---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Three Things” Down in the Dirt, v186 (the August 2021 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Lockdown’s Over the Down in the Dirt May-August 2021 issues collection book		get the 420 page May-August 2021 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Gallium

James Bates

    I stifled a yawn and looked over at my friend Ronnie. He grinned at me and made an almost imperceptible drinking motion with his right hand. It was our signal for ‘Are we going to get together, swipe a couple of beers from our parents and hang out after school?’ I shook my head, mouthed a silent ‘No’ and yawned. ‘Too bad’ he mouthed back to me. I yawned again and turned my attention to the front of the classroom. Our chemistry teacher had just walked in.
    “Good morning, class,” he grinned at us.
    In spite of my distain for authority in general and school in particular, I didn’t mind chemistry. Mr. Benson sometimes did experiments in front of the class and they were a nice diversion from his dry and somewhat complicated lectures. Right now, we were studying about metals and valence bonds and melting points and, to be frank, I was pretty lost.
    Plus, I was tired. Yesterday, when Mom got home from her job, she’d gone through the mail and quickly opened the letter from my big brother Craig.
    When I’d walked in from school, she was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a Marlboro and crying her eyes out. She showed me the letter and I read it. Mom, sorry to have to write this but I’m in a hospital in Sardar. I’ve been wounded, but I should be okay. I’ll write more later. Love, Craig.
    When I was finished, I sat down and tried to comfort her. “It’ll be okay, Mom. At least he’s alive.”
    “He could’ve been killed, Eric. He could’ve been taken from us forever and then what?”
    Well, Mom, at least I’d be here, that’s what, I thought to myself. I mean, I counted, right? But Mom was on a roll. My brother had been her ‘Rock’ as she put it, when Dad left ten years ago, and they were close. I was the tag-a-long youngest who always was in the background.
    We didn’t have much money, so Craig couldn’t go to college after high school. Instead, he joined the Marines. That had been six years ago. He was now on his third tour of duty in Afghanistan and everyday he was gone was like a knife in my mom’s heart.
    “Mom, it’ll be okay,” I said, again. I didn’t know what else to say. Touchy feely stuff was not my strong point.
    She snubbed out her cigarette. “I know,” she smiled at me. “I know it’ll be okay.” Then she added, “At least I’ve got you, right?”
    I was shocked. And unprepared. She’d never said anything like that before. I managed to say, “Um, sure, Mom. I’m here for you.”
    She smiled and hugged me. “I know you are, Eric. Thank you.” Then she lit another cigarette.
    Later that night I lay in bed trying to make sense out of what she’d said. I came up with nothing other than maybe with Dad gone and my brother gone, Mom only had me to depend on. I had no clue. But, maybe that’s why what happened in chemistry the next day had such an impact on me.
    After he greeted us, Mr. Benson busied himself at his work station. I craned my neck to get a better look and watched with interest as he boiled water on a hot plate and poured it into a coffee mug. Then he added some instant coffee, picked up a spoon and was about to stir the mixture when he looked up and asked, “So, who’d like to help me?”
    There were thirty-one students in class and no one raised their hand, a common occurrence whenever he asked for volunteers. I was interested, though. I looked over at Ronnie. Even he was paying attention. I turned back to Mr. Benson. I thought of my mom, and I thought of my brother in the hospital in Sardar, and I thought to myself, Why not?
    I raised my hand.
    Mr. Benson smiled, “Ah, a volunteer. Thank you, Eric. Why don’t you come on up here?”
    I was conscious of a few giggles. I was never the best student, believe me, and most everyone knew it. Why, I could picture them thinking, was he doing this?
    I was with them. I had no idea. But I left my seat, walked up to Mr. Benson and for some reason said, “Reporting for duty, sir!”
    The class burst into laughter. Even Mr. Benson smiled. He gave me the spoon and said, “Thank you for the comedic interlude, Eric. Now if you could please just give the coffee a stir, I’d appreciate it.”
    “Sure.” I turned to the class and grinned. I was enjoying this.
    Then I focused on the mug and stirred the coffee. It was kind of boring. No explosion or anything. I could picture the crystals dissolving in the liquid and wondered what the big deal was.
    After a few moments Mr. Benson said, “Okay, that good. You can remove the spoon.”
    “Sure,” I said, and lifted it out. “What theÉ.”
    The class exploded in laughter. I looked at Mr. Benson. He smiled at me and said, “That’s chemistry for you. In this case it’s metal magic.”
    It was. The spoon had disappeared.
    “How’d that happen?” I asked.
    He took the handle from me and said, “Go on back to your seat and I’ll tell you.” I turned to go, and he added, “And, Eric, thank you.”
    “You’re welcome,” I told him. I sat down, feeling different, like not only had I been part of a cool experiment, but that it had changed me somehow.
    Mr. Benson explained that the spoon was made out of a metal called gallium. When it was put in the hot coffee the melting point of the metal was achieved and it dissolved. For a change, I actually understood what he was saying. It was a pretty exciting moment for me. The easiest way to explain it is that I became interested in school and in learning.
    From that day on I focused on my course work and my classes. I still hung out with Ronnie, but not as much. I studied more. I helped Mr. Benson with experiments and ended up going to college and getting a degree in science. These days I work as chemist for a manufacturing company here in Minneapolis. I’ve been with them for twenty-one years.
    I’ll never forget that day in chemistry class. Who knows what would have happened to me if I hadn’t seen that spoon dissolve? But I’ll tell you this, I’m pretty sure whatever it might have been, it wouldn’t have been good. Ronnie and I were heading down a slippery slope, that’s for sure. What’s that they say about hind sight? Well, I’m a believer.
    I’m also glad I raised my hand that day. So is my mom. She’d much rather I was home working at a job I liked rather than at war. Me, too. Speaking of which, my brother made it home just fine, to the relief of all of us.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...