Brain Child

by John Saul

  All he knew was that something was wrong with him. He was no longer the same as he had been before the accident, and for some reason his parents were upset about it. At least, his mother was upset. His father seemed pleased.

  They had told him about the test results as they drove him home that afternoon, and at first he hadn’t understood what all the fuss was about. He could have told them he’d correctly answered all the questions before they even checked. The questions had been easy, and didn’t really involve anything like thinking. In fact, he’d thought they must be testing his memory rather than his ability to think, because all the tests had involved were a series of facts and calculations, and if you had a good memory and knew the right equations, there wasn’t anything to them.

  But now they were saying he was brilliant, and his father wanted him to go into a special program down in Palo Alto. From what he’d heard in the car, though, he didn’t think that was going to happen. Dr. Torres would see to it that he stayed home.

  And that, he decided, was fine with him. All day, he’d been trying to figure out what had happened at school that morning—why he had remembered some things so clearly, other things incorrectly, and still others not at all.

  He was sure it had something to do with the damage his brain had suffered, and yet that didn’t make sense to him. He could understand how parts of his memory could have been destroyed, but that wouldn’t account for the things he had remembered incorrectly. He should, he was sure, either remember things or not remember them. But memories shouldn’t have simply changed, unless there was a reason.

  The thing to do, he decided, was start keeping track of the things he remembered, and how he remembered them, and see if there was a pattern to the things he remembered incorrectly.

  If there was, he might be able to figure out what was wrong with him.

  And then, there was María Torres.

  She had been in his room when he got home that afternoon, and when he had first seen her, he’d thought he recognized her. It had only been a fleeting moment, and a sharp pain had shot through his head, and then it was over. A moment later he realized that what he’d recognized was not her face, but her eyes. She had the same eyes that Dr. Torres had: almost black eyes that seemed to peer right inside you.

  She’d smiled at him, and nodded her head, then quickly left him alone in his room.

  By now he should have forgotten the incident, except for the pain in his head.

  The pain itself was gone now, but the memory of it was still etched sharply in his mind.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lisa Cochran’s face set into an expression of stubbornness that Kate Lewis had long ago come to realize meant that the argument was over—Lisa would, in the end, have her way. And, as usual, Kate knew Lisa was right. Still, she didn’t want to give in too easily.

  “But what if he won’t go?” she asked.

  “He’ll go,” Lisa insisted. “I can talk him into it. I’ve always been able to talk Alex into anything.”

  “That was before,” Kate reminded her. “Ever since he’s come home, he’s … well, he’s just different, that’s all. Most of the time he acts like he doesn’t even like us anymore.”

  Lisa sighed. Over and over again she’d tried to explain to Kate and Bob that Alex did still like them—and all his other friends too—but that right now he was just incapable of showing his feelings. Kate and Bob, however, had remained unconvinced.

  “If we’re going to go up to San Francisco,” Bob repeated for the third time that afternoon, “I want to go with people I can have fun with. All Alex ever does anymore is ask questions. He’s like a little kid.”

  The three of them were sitting in their favorite hangout, Jake’s Place, which served pizza and video games. While the games had long since lost their novelty, the kids still came for the pizza, which wasn’t very good, but was cheap. And Jake didn’t mind if they came in right after school and sat around all afternoon, nursing a Coke and talking. Today, gathered around a table with a Pac-Man unit in its top, they had been talking a long time as Lisa tried to convince Bob and Kate that they should take Alex along to San Francisco day after tomorrow. Jake, they knew, had been listening to them casually, but, as always, hadn’t tried to offer them any advice. That, too, was one of the reasons they hung out here. Suddenly, however, he appeared by their table and leaned over.

  “Better make up your minds,” he told them. “Alex just came in.”

  Kate and Bob looked up guiltily as Lisa waved to Alex. “Over here!” Alex hesitated only a second before coming over to slide into the seat next to Lisa.

  “Hi. I looked for you after school, but you didn’t wait. What’s going on?”

  Lisa glanced at Kate and Bob, then decided to end their argument immediately. “We’re talking about going up to the City on Saturday. Want to go with us?”

  Alex frowned. “The city? What city?”

  “San Francisco,” Lisa replied, ignoring the roll of Bob Carey’s eyes. “Everybody calls it that. Want to go with us?”

  “I’ll have to ask my folks.”

  “No, you don’t,” Lisa told him. “If you tell your folks, they’ll tell my folks and Kate’s folks, and they’ll all say no. We’re just going to go.”

  Bob Carey suddenly reached into his pocket, pulled out a quarter, and began playing Pac-Man. Lisa, sure he was doing it only to avoid talking to Alex, glared at him, but he ignored her. Alex, however, didn’t seem to notice the slight. His eyes were fastened on the little yellow man that scooted through the maze under Bob’s control.

  “What’s it do?” he asked, and Lisa immediately knew it was yet one more thing of which he had no memory. Patiently she began explaining the object of the game as Alex kept watching while Bob played. In less than two minutes, the game was over.

  “Want me to show you how to do it?” Alex asked. Bob looked at him with skeptical curiosity.

  “You? You’re even worse at this than me.”

  Alex slipped a quarter in the slot, and began playing, maneuvering the little man around the maze, always just out of reach of the hungry goblins that chased him. But when the goblins suddenly turned blue, Alex turned on them, gobbling them up one after the other. He cleared board after board, never losing a man, racking up an array of fruit, and an enormous score.

  After ten minutes, he took his hands off the controls. Instantly, Pac-Man was gobbled up, and a new one appeared. Alex ignored it, and in a few seconds it, too, was devoured. “It’s easy,” he said. “There’s a pattern, and all you have to do is remember the pattern. Then you know where all the goblins are going to go.”

  Bob shifted in his chair. “How come you could never do that before?” he asked.

  Alex frowned, then shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “And I don’t care,” Lisa declared. “What about going to the City? Do you want to go with us, or not?”

  Alex considered it a moment, then nodded his head. “Okay. What time?”

  “We’ll tell our folks we’re going to the beach in Santa Cruz,” Lisa said. “I’ll even pack us a lunch. That way we can leave early, and we won’t have to be back until dinnertime.”

  “What if we get caught?” Kate asked.

  “How can we get caught?” Bob countered. Then, his eyes fixed on Alex, he added, “Unless someone tells.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lisa assured him. “Nobody’s going to tell.”

  Kate drained the last of the warm Coke that had been sitting in front of her most of the afternoon, and stood up. “I’ve got to get home. Mom’ll kill me if I haven’t got dinner started when she gets home from work.”

  “You want us to come along?” Lisa asked. Though none of the kids talked about it much, they all knew about Mr. Lewis’s drinking problem. Kate shook her head. “Dads still sort of okay, but I think he’ll have to go back to the hospital next week. Right now he’s at the stage where he just sits in front of the TV all the time, drinking beer. I wish Mom would just kick him
out.”

  “No, you don’t,” Bob Carey said.

  “I do too!” Kate flared. “All he does is talk about what he’s going to do, but he never does anything except get drunk. If I could, I’d move out!”

  “But he’s still your father—”

  “So what? He’s a drunk, and everybody knows it!”

  Her eyes brimming with sudden tears, Kate turned and hurried out of Jake’s Place, Bob right behind her. “Pay the check, will you, Alex?” Bob called back over his shoulder.

  When they were alone, Lisa grinned at Alex. “Do you have any money?” she asked. “Or do I get stuck with the check again?”

  “Why should I pay it?” Alex asked, bewildered. “I didn’t eat anything.”

  “Alex! I was only kidding!”

  “Well, why should I pay it?” Alex insisted.

  Lisa tried to keep the exasperation she was feeling out of her voice. “Alex,” she said carefully, “nobody expects you to pay the check. But Bob was in a hurry, and he’ll pay you back tomorrow. You and Bob have always done that.”

  Alex’s eyes fixed steadily on her. “I don’t remember that.”

  “You don’t remember anything,” Lisa replied, her voice edged with anger. “So I’m telling you. Now, why don’t you just give Jake some money, and we’ll get out of here?” Then, when Alex still hesitated, she sighed. “Oh, never mind. I’ll do it myself.” She paid the check, and started toward the door. “You coming?”

  Alex stood up and followed her out into the afternoon sunshine. They started walking toward the Cochrans’, and after a few minutes of silence, Lisa finally took Alex’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad.”

  “That’s okay.” Alex dropped her hand, and kept walking.

  “You mad at me?” Lisa asked.

  “No.”

  “Is something else wrong?”

  Alex shrugged, then shook his head.

  “Then how come you don’t want to hold hands?” Lisa ventured.

  Alex said nothing, but wondered silently why holding hands seemed so important to her.

  Apparently it was yet something else he didn’t remember. Feeling nothing, he ignored her outstretched hand.

  Carol Cochran climbed the stairs to Lisa’s room, and found her daughter stretched out on the bed staring at the ceiling as the thundering music of her favorite rock group seemed to make the walls shake. Carol went to the stereo and turned the volume down, then perched on the edge of the bed.

  “Want to tell me what’s wrong, or is it too big a secret?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Lisa replied. “I was just listening to my records.”

  “For three solid hours,” Carol told her. “And it’s been the same record, over and over, which is driving your father crazy.”

  Lisa rolled over onto her side and propped her head up on one hand. “It’s Alex. He’s … well, he’s just so different. Sometimes he’s almost spooky. He takes everything so seriously, you can’t even joke with him anymore.”

  Carol nodded. “I know. I guess you just have to be patient. He might get over it.”

  Lisa sat up. “But what if he doesn’t? Mom, what’s happening is terrible.”

  “Terrible?” Carol repeated.

  “It’s the other kids,” Lisa told her. “They’re starting to talk about him. They say all he ever does is ask questions like a little kid.”

  “We know what that’s all about,” Carol replied.

  Lisa nodded. “I know. But it still doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “For whom?”

  Lisa seemed startled by the question, then flopped onto her back again. “For me,” she whispered. Then: “I just get so tired of trying to explain him to everyone all the time. And it’s not just that, anyway,” she added, her voice suddenly defiant.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’m not sure he likes me anymore. He … he never seems to want to hold hands with me, or kiss me, or anything. He’s just … oh, Mom, he just seems so cold.”

  “I know about that, too,” Carol sighed. “But it’s not just you, honey. He’s that way with everyone.”

  “Well, that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Carol shook her head, considering what to tell her daughter. Lisa sat against the headboard, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, as her mother continued. “I’m going to go right on treating Alex the way I always have, and try not to let my feelings get hurt if he doesn’t respond the way he used to,” she said. “And he may never respond the way he used to. It’s a function of the accident. In a way, Alex is crippled now. But he’s still Alex, and he’s still my best friends’ son. If they can get through this, and Alex can get through this, so can I.”

  “And so can I?” Lisa asked, but Carol shook her head.

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know if you should try. You’re only sixteen, and there’s no reason at all that you should have to spend your time explaining Alex to anyone or trying to deal with his new personality. There are lots of other boys in La Paloma, and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t date them.”

  “But I can’t just dump Alex,” Lisa protested.

  “I’m not saying you should,” Carol replied. “All I’m saying is that you have to make certain decisions based on what’s best for you. If it’s too difficult for you to go on spending so much time with Alex, then you shouldn’t do it. And you shouldn’t feel badly about it, either.”

  Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. “But I do feel bad,” she said. “And I don’t even know why. I don’t know if I don’t like him anymore, or if I’m just hurt because I’m not sure he still likes me. And I don’t know if I’m getting tired of having to defend him all the time, or if I’m mad at everybody else for not understanding him. Mom, I just don’t know what to do!”

  “Then don’t do anything,” Carol told her. “Just take it all day by day, and see what happens. In time, it will all work out.”

  Lisa nodded, then got up from the bed and went to the stereo, where she changed the record. Then, with her back to her mother, she said, “What if it doesn’t work out, Mom? What if Alex never changes? What’s going to happen to him?”

  Carol rose to her feet and pulled her daughter close. “I don’t know,” she said. “But in the end, it really isn’t your problem, is it? It’s Alex’s problem, and his parents’ problem. It’s only yours if you make it yours, and you don’t have to. Do you understand that?”

  Lisa nodded. “I guess so,” she said. She wiped her eyes, and forced a smile. “And I’ll be all right,” she said. “I guess I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

  “And for Alex,” Carol added. “I know how much you want to help him and how bad it feels not to be able to.” She started toward the door. “But there is one thing you can do,” she added before she left the room. “Turn that awful music down, so at least your sister can get some sleep. Good night.”

  “ ’Night, Mom.” As the door closed, Lisa plugged in her headset, and the room fell silent as the music from the stereo poured directly into her ears.

  Alex lay awake late into the night, pondering what had happened at Jake’s Place and on the way home afterward. He knew he’d made a mistake, but he still couldn’t quite figure it out.

  Lisa had wanted to hold hands with him, and even though he didn’t understand why, he should have gone ahead and done it anyway. And she had been mad at him, which was another thing he didn’t understand.

  There was so much that just didn’t make any sense.

  At the beginning of the week, there had been the strange memories, and the odd pain that had gone through his head when he’d first seen María Torres.

  And beyond those things, which he was sure he would eventually figure out, there were the other things, the concepts he was beginning to feel certain he would never understand.

  Love.

  That was something he couldn’t get any kind of grasp
on. His mother was always telling him that she loved him, and he didn’t really doubt that she did.

  The trouble was, he didn’t understand what love was. He’d looked it up, and read that it was a feeling of affection.

  But, as he had slowly come to understand as he read more, apparently he didn’t have feelings.

  It was something he was only beginning to be aware of, and he didn’t know whether he should talk to Dr. Torres about it or not. All he knew so far was that things seemed to happen to other people that didn’t happen to him.

  Things like anger.

  He knew Lisa had been angry at him this afternoon, and he knew it was a feeling that she got when he did something she didn’t approve of.

  But what did it feel like?

  He thought, from what he’d read, that it must be like pain, only it affected the mind instead of the body. But what was it like?

  He was beginning to suspect he’d never know, for every day he was becoming more and more aware that something had, indeed, gone wrong, and that he was no longer like other people.

  But he was supposed to be like other people. That was the whole idea of Dr. Torres’s operation—to make him the way he’d been before.

  The problem was that he couldn’t remember how he’d been before. If he could remember, it would be easy. He could act as though he was the same, and then people wouldn’t know he was different.

  He was already doing some of it.

  He’d learned to hug his mother, and kiss her, and whenever he did that, she seemed to like it.

  He’d decided not to act on any of the things he seemed to remember until he’d determined if his memory of them was correct.

  And after this afternoon, he’d remember to hold Lisa’s hand when they were walking together, and to pay a check if Bob Carey asked him to.

  But what about other people? Were there other people he used to borrow money from and loan money to?

  Tomorrow, when he saw Lisa, he’d ask her.

  No, he decided, he wouldn’t ask her. He couldn’t keep asking everybody questions all the time.