“Concentrate and Ask Again”

My grandparents had always fascinated me. Sometimes they knew everything, and sometimes they were completely oblivious of current events. But always, the Magic 8-Ball was close by. It was a family ritual to have it on the supper table whenever we went for a visit. The goal was to ask a yes/no question and get an answer that made everyone laugh. You got bonus points if you could make milk come from someone’s nose! It stayed in the dining room, but I was permitted to play with it as long as I was “careful and put it back safely”.

I remember playing with it as a child and throughout my teenage years, right up until I moved away for college. I asked it so many yes/no questions: “Will I be pretty?” (Outlook good), “Will Austen take me to the Spring formal instead of Amber?” (Don’t count on it). I crossed my fingers on this one, but he took Amber anyway. As far as I know, they are still together with several kids and grandkids. I was hoping right up until the dance started that Austin was looking for the perfect time to ask me. I didn’t go to the dance, and I cried all night.

The neighborhood nerd, Kolin, had asked me to go with him days before, but I said no, and not very graciously if memory serves me. I heard later that he had excelled in computer programming but had disappeared in his early 20s, and no one knew where he went. Never gave him much thought after that.

Sadly, my grandparents passed away in a car accident when I was 26 years old. Their passing marked the end of a sense of family for me, and I mourned for them for a very long time. Unfortunately, all their belongings were stripped from the house by greedy family members before I could get home. I really would have liked one specific keepsake.

Shortly after their funerals, I heard an early morning knock at the door, and a courier handed me a box. I knew I hadn’t ordered anything, so it was quite unexpected. Even more surprising was what was inside – the Magic 8-Ball! A small note was included that read, “Hello Sarah, Your Grandpa and I wanted you to have this. It holds a lot of our wisdom now, and we are always here for you. Love, Grandma.” I cried and hugged it close for a long time.

Once I regained some composure, I re-read the note. I wondered what Grandma meant about it holding their wisdom – so typical of them. I finally smiled. It was time to try it out again. I shook it gently and then asked my question, “Will I get the new promotion?”. I thought this was a safe question because I still remembered the sting of the Austen/Amber dance thing. I turned over the Magic 8-Ball and waited for the answer to appear. As an expert on responses, I knew what the standard 20 answers are, and this one was not one of them. The polygon floated up, and the message was clear: “Of course, dear”. I dropped the ball onto the carpet, and it rolled a few feet. I don’t know how long I was frozen; maybe only milliseconds, but it felt like time stopped for an eternity. I couldn’t believe what I’d read. I cautiously retrieved it and turned it over to see what would appear. “Concentrate and ask again” rose to the surface, just a standard response. I must have read the first message wrong – yes, that would explain it. What was wrong with me – maybe not enough sleep, too many things on my mind? Something caused me to see something that couldn’t possibly be there!

I put the Magic 8-Ball down and went to work. That probably wasn’t the best idea I've ever had because I could not concentrate. My mind kept wandering back to the message and wondering if I was imagining things because I missed my grandparents so much. That must be it! Of course, it wasn't really magic, that's just crazy!

However, I did pretend I had a headache, left shortly after lunch, and headed home. I had to be sure. I hesitantly picked up the Magic 8-Ball and asked one question: “Grandma, is that you?”. I slowly turned the ball over and waited for the response to surface. It was so clear, “Without a doubt”. I was so happy! They weren’t gone forever; somehow, they could communicate with me. I hugged the ball, and tears of joy ran down my cheeks. Then, a sobering thought entered, and I sat up straight. Wait a minute! That is a standard Magic 8-Ball answer… I had to think of a yes/no question that only my grandparents could answer. I grabbed a pen and paper and composed the best 20 questions that I could think up to prove that my Magic 8-Ball was indeed magical.

Question after question resulted in the same answer, no matter how many times I shook the ball: “Concentrate and ask again”. I had one question left on my list. I took a deep breath and asked, “Should I just believe?”. I turned the ball over and held my breath. The answer floated slowly to the surface, and the words were distinct, “Of course, dear!".

I had only to believe to find the answer. What a miracle. What a comfort. I had so many questions to ask them. Where were they? Was it nice there? Can they see me? Each time, the magic ball answered with a standard answer. Why couldn’t they just give me something to help me understand what was going on? I noticed it was getting hard to read the messages. The living room was bathed in dark shadows; the sun was setting. I had been sitting still for hours. My legs had gone to sleep, and my stomach was growling from lack of food. Reluctantly, I put the ball down on the coffee table and left for a much-needed bio break and sustenance. But my need to know only grew.

Day after day, I sat in my living room and attempted to get another response from my grandparents, but to no avail. I used up all my vacation time and my sick time, and eventually, I was let go from my job. Still, my obsession with making contact made everything else unimportant, frivolous, and inconvenient until finally, I was evicted from my apartment for non-payment of rent, and I was forced to live in my car. The only possession I held onto was my Magic 8-Ball with its connection to my grandparents. I hoped every minute of every day that I would get the response that would let me know they were still there, still tethered to the ball, still tethered to me. Days and weeks blurred together, and I cannot tell you how long I lived like this. Eventually, the local mental health unit came and took me to the hospital. I was forced to surrender my Magic 8-Ball, and during my therapy, I began to see how disturbed I had become. I was fixated on an illusion. I couldn’t distinguish between reality and fantasy. I was wasting away chasing something that didn’t exist. I wanted to get better, so I participated in my recovery, took the medication as prescribed, joined the group discussions, and was open to receiving the help I needed. It was a long journey back to reality.

Finally, at 35, I was released, and I moved into a tiny furnished apartment. I had a long way to go before I could get back on my feet financially. The hospital gave me back the Magic 8-Ball, and I put it on a shelf to remind me of a particularly painful part of my life. Next garbage day, I’m going to throw it away, as I should have many years ago. I don’t need a constant reminder…

Yet, curiosity got the best of me. I should ask one last question. “Grandma, are you there”? I turned over my prized possession and held my breath. The answer came swiftly, “You should have said yes”. My world went black.

The gardens look pretty at this time of the year, although it's hard to see through the wire-enclosed windows. It’s my birthday. I am 57 years old today. Every year, a birthday card arrives for me. The cover always features a pool table, with the balls perfectly aligned, except for the black 8-ball. It is always carved out with nothing but a hole where it should be. The inside carries the same message, year after year: “Outlook not so good”. The signature is a little hard to read, but it looks like Always Yours K.

I wish I knew where my Magic 8-Ball was so I could ask my Grandma if she and Grandpa sent it. It had been taken away from me the first day I arrived at my forever home. I haven’t seen it since.

The orderly who has cared for me since my arrival 22 years ago is kind. Every day we visit the games room and play pool. I don’t know why, but he always removes the black 8-ball, so he never loses.