The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point

by Mike Hopper

  “I guess they didn’t teach those things at her school.”

  “I can’t leave Sparky alone.”

  “Why not?”

  “I haven’t told you the entire story.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Sparky was outside under the bushes when I found him this morning.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “He was abandoned. I rescued him.”

  Sam laughed at her brother. “Steuart, that’s really silly. You’re not big enough to rescue anything.”

  “I disagree. I rescued Sparky. He needs me.”

  Sam made a face. “Let me make sure that I understand this. You found a pillow under the bushes in the dirt and now you want to carry it in the car and pretend it’s a dinosaur? That doesn’t sound sanitary to me.”

  “No,” Steuart let out a deep breath. “I discovered a baby dinosaur in the tall grass on the south side of the house early in the day when I was outside working as an explorer. Come on, play along.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? Everything you do revolves around using your imagination. Don’t tell me that you’ve never heard of a simple thing called willing suspension of disbelief.”

  “I’ve heard.” Sam impatiently looked at her brother and waited.

  “You’re not paying attention. I’m trying to tell you. This is important to me. Get it? I need you to understand what I’m saying.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Dry her art.”

  “Stop it with the anagrams. I’m getting annoyed.”

  “You’re being difficult on purpose.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Pay attention, this is what you need to know.”

  “What?”

  Steuart held Sparky and sat beside his sister. “One finds a pillow. One discovers a dinosaur. We are discussing two different things. I discovered Sparky. He is merely disguised as a pillow.”

  “So why is he disguised? Why can’t he just show who he is?”

  “I already told you. You look awake but I suspect your brain’s sleeping. I think you’re off somewhere far away. Wake up, Sam. Listen carefully. Sparky is in disguise so that he can make the move to Maybell. Unless he remains in costume he’ll have to stay behind with all of my action figures.”

  Sam yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Why?”

  “If he isn’t in costume Mother will mistake him for a doll and disapprove. If that happens, she won’t allow him to make the trip. This is the only way he can safely travel. Sparky needs to go with us.”

  Sam nodded.

  “Sparky needs me. He has to play the game. We have to play the game too. It’s not a big deal. All you have to do is pretend he’s a pillow when Mother is in ear shot and be aware that he is really a wonderful baby dinosaur in need of love and attention.” Steuart hugged Sparky. “We’re this guy’s family. I’m responsible for his care and upbringing. Please….”

  Sam cocked her head and threw her hands into the air. “You’re right! Where did I put my brain? What’s wrong with me? Of course you’re a dinosaur. I see now. Sparky, your disguise is perfect. I had no idea. I was totally fooled. Mother will never guess your secret—ever. I don’t think anyone will. I won’t tell.”

  Steuart smiled and hugged his pillow. “Sparky pal, you’re doing a great job.” He looked at Sam, “Thanks. This is exactly what we were hoping for.” Steuart moved to the other bed, relaxed for a few minutes and played with his action figures before becoming upset again. “It’s not right. Kids should never have to hide toys or choose between them.”

  “You’re right.”

  Steuart picked up another action figure and threw it onto the mattress. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

  Ready for bed, Sam felt tired and cranky. She didn’t want to leave her brother until he was feeling better. “What about making up a story?”

  “I told you, I made up a story already. Remember the pirates and the turtle soup?”

  “I’m too tired to remember,” Sam yawned. “I’ve already forgotten. I know you’re upset. I am too, but we need to go to sleep. We’re moving tomorrow.”

  “No! We can’t give up without a fight. Let’s ask Mother to change her mind. Let’s ask her to let us stay here with Grandmother. She can go. We’ll stay here.”

  “That’d be great Steuart, but it won’t happen. Mother won’t allow us to stay here without her.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’re her children. Besides, we’d miss her.”

  “Not really.”

  “I would.”

  “We’d be fine. We’re not even her children.”

  “Don’t say that. Of course we are.”

  “You’re ignoring the truth. Why pretend?”

  “I’m not pretending.”

  “I’m serious. This is the time for mutiny!”

  “Stop it! You’re not helping things.”

  “Why won’t you talk about it?” Steuart threw another action figure at the bed. It missed and landed on the floor. He jumped across the mattress, picked up the figure and held it against his chest.

  Sam shook her head and yawned, “I’m too sleepy to keep talking. It’s not important.”

  “It is important.”

  “It’s late.”

  “So?”

  “We don’t need to talk about these things tonight. I’m tired Steuart. I need to get some sleep.”

  “Then why won’t you just say it? You know I’m right. You know it’s true.”

  “Say what? What do you want me to say?”

  “If you don’t care, just say it.”

  “I’m going to bed. I refuse to have this discussion with you tonight.”

  “You sound like Mother.”

  “Fighting words, Steuart. Don’t go there.”

  “I’m telling you that no one spends more time with us than Grandmother.”

  “Mother loves us.”

  “Grandmother loves us too.”

  “She’s not our mother.”

  “She’s like a mother should be. We love being with her, and we love Atchison Bay. We’re happy with Grandmother.”

  “I know, but it’s complicated. We can’t just tell Mother to go by herself. She needs us.”

  “This is the only home that either of us can remember.”

  “That’s true, but it doesn’t mean that we won’t like the new house.”

  “Why does Mother have the right to force us to leave our home?”

  “Hush, Steuart.”

  “I refuse to hush. Mother’s too busy for us. I doubt she’d miss us. I want to stay here and live with Grandmother.”

  “Mother’s busy, but she would miss both of us. We’re her family.”

  “She never has time for us.”

  “She’s busy working hard to make money to support you and me so that we can go to the best schools, become well educated, and have good futures allowing us to lead happy lives as productive, contributing members of our society.”

  “Whoa! That’s impressive. When did you memorize that one?”

  “Stop it.” Sam rolled her eyes, “Mother takes care of us. She has an important job. We’re not the only people who depend on her.”

  “I know she’s busy. That’s exactly my point. Maybe she’s too busy to be a good mother.”

  “But, she is a good mother.”

  “A good mother wouldn’t make us move.”

  “She got a better job.”

  “A good job is not the most important thing in the world. Grandmother has time for us. Grandmother loves us. We should stay here with her.”

  “Grandmother can do all the things she does because she doesn’t have to worry about money.”

  “Mother doesn’t either.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know Grandmother gives Mother money.”

  “Steuart, you’re being stubborn. It’s useless. Children don’t make the rules.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, that is the
understatement of my entire young life.”

  “I’m tired of arguing with you. I’d rather stay here too, but we can’t change things. Like it or not, we’re moving tomorrow.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Let’s count our blessings and be thankful for what we have.”

  “And that is...?”

  “We’re together. That’s something, right?”

  “Whatever,” Steuart huffed. “I’m going downstairs for a snack.”

  * * *

  Steuart paused at the top of the stairs and looked down. Dim lamplight illuminated the front hall, living room and kitchen. Flickering gaslight streamed in through the transom and sidelights that surrounded the heavy front door. The remainder of the first floor was bathed in quiet shadows as a heated conversation took place between Olivia and Ida. Interested in knowing more, Steuart raised his hand, placed his index finger next to his lips, and rubbed his mouth. He considered his options and thought about what he should do. He also thought about what he wanted to do. He considered turning around and returning to bed. He deciding he would, but only after a bit of investigation. Perhaps his grandmother was going to insist that he and Sam stay with her. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

  Steuart walked down three steps. Listening hard, he bent down, cupped his hand behind his ear and pulled it in the direction of the living room. From the higher stairs, the voices were muffled. Again, he moved down. Again, he put his finger to his mouth and contemplated turning back. Straining to hear what was being said, he moved further down the stairs and found himself both surprised and curious by the realization that one of the voices was unknown to him. He was not hearing his grandmother. Holding the banister, Steuart pulled himself up so that his feet left the stairs. Leaning across the railing he looked back towards the living room, cupped his ear again, and this time lost his balance. Three steps from the floor, Steuart caught himself on the other side, dropped quietly onto the rug, and continued his spy activities.

  The voices grew louder. Who’s she talking with, he wondered? As his mother’s voice rose, Steuart considered running up the stairs. Instead, he ran behind the living room sofa and quickly ducked. Stealthily, he began following his mother and the visitor from room to room. Making out a handful of words, Steuart listened intently to shifting voices; raised one minute, low or muffled the next.

  While hearing the argument was difficult, moving about was relatively easy. He was small for his age and made no sound jumping from carpet to carpet across the polished wooden floors. Not only curious, but also determined, Steuart moved forward into the study where he crouched low behind a wing chair and listened. The women continued arguing in hushed, harsh voices. At his mother’s insistence, the visitor moved into the foyer and stood near the front door. That’s when Steuart heard the intruder say, “You must return them. They do not belong to you.”

  Olivia turned away and walked into the study where she stood at the front window and watched. Ignoring the woman’s request, she began with a soft voice that became only louder and more annoyed as she spoke. “A cab is on the way. We have an agreement.”

  “Coercion is not an agreement,” the woman said.

  “I want you out of my house.”

  Steuart peeked from behind the chair and watched as his mother looked out the window. Standing beside the front door, the stranger wore a red floral scarf around her head. The room was too dark for Steuart to see her features. Thinking he might get a better view of things from the other side of the house, he elected to move. He silently counted to three, popped up, and made a dash for the rear study door. He raced through the living room, and into the hallway where a misstep from carpet onto wood caused him to slide, accidentally pushing a magazine out of a basket and across the floor. Fearful of discovery, he quickly stood, dashed towards the kitchen, and through the butler’s pantry, moving towards the dining room which stood on the opposite side of the entryway and—unfortunately offered no adequate cover.

  The women continued arguing. They noticed nothing. Steuart reversed his route. He moved from the dining room, through the butler’s pantry, and into the kitchen. He crossed the hallway, picked up the magazine, replaced it, and then ran into and through the living room before successfully moving into the study where he stood silent, straight, and tall, this time hidden by the heavy draperies. He peered through the curtains, calming himself and catching his breath while remaining as still and watchful as the twin Magiscopes guarding the study mantle.

  Headlights moved along the drive, flickering through the brush, and making their way towards the house. “Get out of my house,” Olivia said opening the front door and ushering the stranger onto the porch. “You need to leave.” As she approached the door, Steuart saw the woman drop an envelope onto the carpet. Olivia, too busy watching the stranger, noticed nothing.

  With her face in the shadows, the woman turned back and spoke, “Even you know that you’re wrong.” She turned, and made eye contact with Steuart.

  Fearful, Steuart remained still. He tried not to blink. The woman looked away, looked at Olivia, and then got into the cab. Steuart watched the car as it exited the driveway. He listened as his mother closed and locked the front door. He continued to hide, but began feeling calmer with his focus now shifted from the stranger to the envelope. Steuart waited curiously for his opportunity.

  Olivia turned, watching to make certain the car was gone. “This house needs an alarm.” She checked the lock and secured the deadbolt. She looked towards the drive and let out a deep sigh. She turned and leaned against the door, not noticing the envelope that laid mere inches from her feet. Closing her eyes, she sighed again. “Why do these things always happen to me?”

  Steuart continued watching the envelope. He waited for his mother to walk up the stairs. Instead, humming an unrecognizable melody, she stepped across the thing and moved towards the kitchen. Steuart remained quiet in the study as he waited for just the right moment. He watched and listened until his mother opened the refrigerator. Feeling safe, he dashed silently into the hallway, dove onto the floor and scooped up the envelope. The refrigerator door closed. Quickly, tucking the envelope into the back elastic of his pajama bottoms, he began walking up the stairs—too late.

  Olivia rounded the corner, making her way towards the staircase. Thinking fast, Steuart did a one-eighty as his mother approached the bottom step and began her climb. Now midway up, her son was stepping down. “What are you doing up?” she asked. “You’ll be a pill tomorrow. Come on now. You need to be in bed.”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “I have no desire to spend my day driving with a cranky, difficult child in my car. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

  Steuart persisted. His heart raced. “I’m thirsty. I need something to drink.”

  “You don’t need anything.”

  “I want something to drink.”

  Olivia reached down, put one hand on Steuart’s head and the other on his bottom. He held his breath as she pivoted him in the opposite direction. “You should be dreaming. Let’s go.”

  Steuart turned. He backed against the wall and looked up at his mother. “I can’t sleep. I heard a noise.”

  “I don’t know what you think you heard, but we’re safe.”

  “I need to check things out.”

  “There’s no reason to be scared. It’s too late for a young man your age to be awake.”

  “I’m going to the kitchen. I’m thirsty.” Steuart was sweating.

  “You have water in your room.”

  “I prefer a little glass of milk. Care to join me Mother dear?”

  “No, thank you. Go ahead. Just make it quick.”

  “I won’t take long.” Steuart looked down at his feet and silently prayed, please make her leave—make her go to bed.

  Olivia climbed one step before stopping again. She turned around and looked down at her son. “No funny business. Understand?”

  Steuart nodded, “I understand.” He cleared his throat,
“No funny business.”

  Olivia smiled and extended her arms, “Step up here. Mother needs a hug.” Steuart’s heart pounded. He nervously stepped up. “Don’t stay up long. I’m quite serious. Tomorrow will be an exhausting day for all of us.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Alright then, I’ll see you in the morning.” Olivia released her son and started up the stairs towards her room. Steuart continued walking towards the bottom step until his mother stopped again and called to him in a sharp, insistent voice, “Steuart James.”

  Steuart froze. He half turned, and looked up. “Ma’am?” he whispered.

  “Steuart James, turn around now. I want you to turn around and look at me.”

  Steuart stopped.

  Olivia repeated herself. “Are you listening to me? I want you to turn around and look at me. Come on. Look at me.”

  Certain that his mother knew about the envelope, Steuart worried that his heart was about to explode. Looking towards the wall he whispered, “Why?” Steuart knew not to question his mother.

  “Turn around Steuart James. Look at me now. What in the world is wrong with you? You know better than to ask me why.”

  Steuart slowly turned and faced his mother.

  “Look at me.”

  He looked up at Olivia. She stared down at her son. Certain of his mother’s parental x-ray abilities, Steuart accepted that she could read clear through his body and into his soul. His heart beat harder. It raced faster and faster. He felt hot. He felt clammy. Stars twinkled in front of his eyes as he briefly thought he blacked out. His breathing quickened. Even with his backside turned away, Steuart knew for certain that his mother could see the envelope through his clothing. Life as he knew it was coming to an end—forever.

  Steuart had a brief fantasy and imagined himself on a large gurney being taken out to an ambulance after a massive heart attack. His mother ran behind the paramedics crying and pleading for his forgiveness, If only I had known how fragile you were, Steuart, Steuart, oh, my little darling Steuart, I would never have been such a terrible, awful, overbearing parent. Steuart! Come back to me. I beg your forgiveness. I love you Steuart. Stay with me. Don’t leave me. We don’t have to move.”