One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories(43)

“We met on the platform of the train station in Spencer, Ohio, exactly three hours and one minute after I got on the train, and we kissed for eleven minutes. They were the best eleven minutes of my life.”

The girls and even a couple of the boys in the class applauded. The best-looking boy in the class, Tyler, made eye contact with Amanda, the best-looking girl in the class, and they both mouthed Awwww together, as though the two of them together had somehow had something to do with this.

Maybe Amanda wasn’t the best-looking girl in the class. Maybe she was just the blondest.

“Wasn’t it two guys in the textbook?” said one of four kids in our class named Matt. “Not, like, a guy and a girl?”

“I changed that part. I thought if it was a man and a woman, kids would get distracted and not focus on the math. Two men was a simpler thing back then. And anyway,” said the man, “haven’t you ever heard of artistic license? The point is, it’s my life and my story. And it’s my problem.”

“It truly is a beautiful problem,” said Mr. Hunt. “I mean, the math problem—not your problem. Your problem, we all hope you resolve it and get what you deserve.”

“Thank you.”

“But just in case,” said Mr. Hunt, “look around at this classroom. Look. Generations of children have learned math from what you did, generations are a little bit smarter because of what you wrote. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It’s nice,” said the old man. “But shouldn’t I be paid for it? If people are well paid for reality television and cotton candy and dunking a basketball, why can’t they be well paid for changing young minds? I mean, wouldn’t more people do it? Bright, selfish people? Nothing wrong with being selfish. If more people thought they could make a fortune curing cancer, wouldn’t more people be trying to do that?” He turned to Mr. Hunt. “You, I don’t need to explain this to you. You’re a teacher.”

Mr. Hunt smiled, a private type of smile that we all could see.

The old man made a lot of sense, except for the cotton candy reference. What was that about? Could you really make a lot of money that way? Maybe he knew someone who made a lot of money in candy. Or maybe he was just old, and you just had to ignore a few of the things he said to get to the wisdom.


I had an idea and raised my hand. I knew my idea was so good I didn’t even wait to be called on.

Bright Ben, they sometimes called me in name games at the beginnings of school years.

Maybe it had affected me.

“Do you still have it?”

“Have what?”

“The train stationery.”

“Maybe somewhere,” said the man. “Why?”

“You could use it to prove you came up with the problem,” I said. “Plus, you could even maybe sell the original to a museum.”

Mr. Hunt murmured something to himself that sure sounded to me like “Bright Ben.”

The old man coughed to clear his throat, even though it didn’t sound like there was anything to clear. “Yes, it’s in a shoebox. Or I think it is. I definitely know which one it would be in, anyway.”

He acted like there wasn’t anything more to say about this, even though there obviously was, so I spoke again, this time without raising my hand.

“Could you check?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe I could. That’s the box where I put … Where I put … Letters, you know. That’s where I put …” There were now longer and longer pauses between each word. “Pictures … that’s …” Then that change in voice again: “June.”

Then just breathing for a while.

“You know, I did go through the box once. And it wasn’t there. But I didn’t look very carefully, though. I didn’t even really look at all. Just put my hand in there and took it out. That’s not really looking.” He paused again. “But I’m not looking again. But maybe it’s there. You know, maybe I’ll look again. That’s not a bad idea.” But he said all of this like he knew he never would.

“Where do you live?” asked Mr. Hunt, gently. “Are you going to need any help getting back?”

“I live in Columbus. I told you that. I have my whole life. I figured I’d start out on the East Coast and then work my way back across the country. See with my own eyes just how big this problem is. Your class is my first stop, actually.”

“You came here straight from Columbus, Ohio?”

“Yes.”

“All the way to Massachusetts? All by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“That’s pretty far,” said Mr. Hunt with concern. “How long did it take?”

“Nice try, nice try,” said the old man. “You want your class to know how long my train took, you gotta pony up.”

Everybody laughed at once, and the laughter seemed to surprise, and then lift, the old man.

“It is … I guess what you said before, it is nice seeing that you all know it,” said the old man. “It’s a reward. Not the only reward, but … you take what you can get. I’ll try to get more, but you take what you can get. It’s done so much good for the world that I do feel like I deserve more. But, yeah, that’s a good thing.”