Genius

by Clare Nonhebel

CHAPTER 35

  'I'll have to stay in bed this morning,’ said Eldred when his mother came to call him on Monday.

  Mildred placed a hand on his forehead. ‘Is it flu?’

  'I'm tired,’ he said.

  'You don't feel like you've got a temperature,’ Mildred said.

  'I'm not ill,’ said Eldred. 'I'm tired.’

  'You've had all weekend to be tired,’ said Mildred. 'If you're not ill, you have to go to school.’

  'Why?’ said Eldred. 'I don't learn anything.’

  'Come on, Eldred,’ said his mother. 'Don't be difficult. You know children have to go to school.’

  'I just want one day off, that's all,’ said Eldred. 'I'll go back again tomorrow.’

  'I'll call your father,’ Mildred threatened. Eldred sighed and turned to face the wall.

  He heard his father come into the room and felt his weight as he sat on the end of the bed. There was silence. It was unusual for Edgar to have nothing to say. Eldred was surprised. It reminded him of the day his father had come to see him in the hospital, out of breath after tackling the stairs - the day Eldred first talked. Well, he wasn't going to talk today.

  Edgar took a deep breath. 'This Terry fellow,’ he said. 'Is that what's bothering you?’ More silence.

  'You're not afraid I'll be angry with you, son?’ Edgar said. 'Look, I know I can be a bit hasty. We worry about you, your mother and I. It's only natural. And perhaps we don't understand you as well as we would if you were more ... well, more like other children.’

  Eldred pulled the duvet over his head.

  Edgar, quite gently, tugged it back. 'You don't have to say anything if you don't want to,’ he said. 'But I want you to listen to me. We love you. All right? Now, I don't find that easy to say, Eldred. You know me. I'm not one to wear my feelings on my sleeve. But we care about you. We're your parents.’

  Eldred made a muffled response.

  'What?’ said Edgar, but Eldred didn't repeat it. After a pause, his father continued, 'Everyone has problems, son. But there's nothing so bad that it doesn't get better if you talk to someone. Can't you talk to your dad?’

  He laid a hand on the top of Eldred's head, tentatively, as if expecting to be shaken off. This unprecedented act melted Eldred's defences, where the words had not. He sat up and caught hold of his father's hand.

  'I would talk to you,’ he said, 'only you don't seem to listen. I only say one thing, then you come in with all the answers and then the subject is closed.’ He waited for Edgar's rebuke.

  Edgar bowed his head. 'I'm sorry,’ he said.

  Eldred's eyes widened. He hunched up his knees, gripped his father's hand in both his own and began to talk with urgency, looking into Edgar's eyes anxiously to gauge his response. Edgar looked back at him. Mildred, peeping round the door, withdrew quickly and left them to it. When Edgar came downstairs Mildred had his toast and tea ready on the table but her husband went straight to the phone. She heard him phone the office and say he'd be late, and then phone the school and leave a message that his son was indisposed and would not be in today.

  When he sat down at the table she sat opposite him and waited. She reflected that Eldred, alien though he seemed to both of them at times, was like Edgar in one way, at least. You got more information out of either father or son by waiting till they were ready to tell things in their own way than by asking questions.

  'I've been talking to Eldred,’ said Edgar finally. Mildred, who knew this already, nodded.

  'He hasn't been having an easy time,’ Edgar said. He looked at Mildred for confirmation.

  'No,’ she agreed.

  'We've always been careful not to treat him as any different from other children,’ Edgar continued. 'We could have ended up as doting older parents, thinking their only child was something special. And then, with what happened before he was born ...’

  Mildred nodded again. Tears were in her eyes, but she kept her gaze on her husband.

  'Tell me, Mildred,’ said Edgar, 'do you think we've done the wrong thing by him? Tried to make him too normal?’

  'You've always done what you thought best for him, dear,’ said Mildred, 'so how could that do the child any harm?’

  'But maybe it's not enough to be well-meaning,’ said Edgar earnestly, lowering his glasses to peer at her. 'You can want the best for a child and cause him suffering. It's terribly easy to make a child suffer, Mildred.’

  Mildred reached across the table and took his hand. 'And it's easy to make a child happy,’ she said. 'All he needs is to know that we're on his side. Then he'll cope with everything. He's stronger than us in some ways.’

  'In most ways,’ said Edgar ruefully. 'I've been so afraid he'd get laughed at, you see. I've thought, if we take him seriously he'll think it's all right to be himself with everyone outside this house and then he'll get crucified. Best to make him toe the line early on in life and then he'll survive.’

  Mildred said nothing.

  'I was wrong,’ he said, 'wasn't I?’

  Mildred poured a cup of tea, sugared and stirred it for him and pushed it towards him.

  'After all,’ said Edgar, 'if we, as his parents, aren't proud of our own child, all we're teaching him is that the world is right to make him ashamed of being himself. And what kind of lesson is that, to prepare him for life?’

  Mildred got up, walked round the table, and kissed him. 'Did he tell you what Louise Palmer had to say?’ she asked.

  'Yes,’ Edgar said. 'He told me everything. I hope it was everything. I was listening.’

  'I know you were, love,’ Mildred said.

  'What do you think of the idea of Eldred appearing on television?’ Edgar asked.

  'I've got a few doubts,’ Mildred admitted. 'But if it's the only way for him to get to a private school where they'll help him to be who he is...’

  'Did you know,’ Edgar interrupted, 'that his class teacher fiddled the end-of-term marks so he wouldn't come first every time?’

  'Yes,’ said Mildred.

  'It's wrong,’ Edgar said. 'That's all wrong, that attitude. It's playing God.’

  'I suppose she thought the other kids would get discouraged, if Eldred was always ahead of them,’ said Mildred. ‘And the other parents aren't happy if their child has no chance of coming first.’

  'What about Eldred getting discouraged?’ said Edgar. 'He's bored stiff there, day after day. He finishes his work in five minutes and he's given nothing to do while the other kids work - just has to sit there and stare into space for hours. He's told off if he asks too many questions, he's told off if he calls out all the answers, he's told off if he daydreams and switches off - what is he to do?’

  'I know,’ said Mildred.

  'It's not good enough, Mildred,’ Edgar said. 'We're not going to stand for this. If he was subnormal, or dyslexic, or blind, he'd get special education to suit his needs. It's insulting to make a child sit all day pretending to learn what an atom is when he spends his free time inventing industrial machines.’

  'Yes, dear,’ said Mildred.

  'Mildred,’ said Edgar, 'I've been blind. I've been a fool and I've been a coward. But now the worm has turned. We're going to fight.’

  'Right, dear,’ said Mildred. She smiled.

  'We're going to help Eldred to do what he wants to do, and we're going to be proud of our son,’ Edgar said fiercely. ‘Am I right now?’

  'You're right,’ said Mildred. 'And Edgar - you may be blind and a fool, if you say so, dear, but I'm proud of you too.’

  Edgar picked up his cup and sipped it hastily. Mildred couldn't be sure but she thought it wasn't just the heat of the tea that was making him blush.