by Lucian Bane
“I have imagined the worst,” Charlie said, looking at his parents, wanting them to see he had done the mature thing and didn’t need to worry about him. “My dad could die.” He looked at the doctor. “That would be the worst.”
The doctor’s friendly gray eyes smiled kindly at him. “That is indeed a very difficult thing to imagine, dear Charlie.”
But the tone in the doctor’s words caused fear to bloom in the pit of his stomach. Like Charlie had forgotten one other thing to fear. He hurried to think what it could be.
“And I’m sure you all have imagined it,” the Dr. went on, nodding. “So, let’s turn our attention then to the possible success of the surgery.”
Charlie was confused by that. Why did that need dealing with? What was bad about a successful surgery? The moment he thought it, it came. An unsuccessful surgery.
“If the surgery is a success, there is going to be a very complicated road to recovery and that is the business I would like to discuss.” He paused a little, his brows drawn in sudden concentration as he eyed his dad. “And I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to allow the adults to discuss it first.”
The near immediate headshake of his dad loosened Charlie’s stomach. He couldn’t be sent out now, not after hearing that. He had to know everything. He needed time to put things right in his head.
“Unless Charlie wants to, I’d like to do this as a family,” his dad said.
“I want to do it as a family,” Charlie hurried, probably too quickly. He didn’t care if that was right or wrong now. He cared about getting to this new thing, this new fear he missed.
“Are you sure Charlie?” his mom whispered, giving him that look that allowed him one more chance, a way out. It was her hero side; she’d done it with him many times in his life. There to save him if he just said the word.
“I’m sure, mom,” he said quietly, nodding at her, keeping his eyes on hers so she could see he meant it.
She did see he meant it. Her body relaxed a little, telling him so. “Alright then,” she nodded. “Charlie’s nearly a man now.”
Charlie felt bad at hearing it. He watched his mom, studying her body. She wasn’t sure about something. What wasn’t she sure of? That he could or should hear? Or was she the one not sure she could or should hear it? Reading mom was hard when she made it her business to protect him from problems, she thought might hurt him. Her and dad were night and day with that.
“Very good then,” the doctor announced, leaning over the right side of his chair and digging in a black leather bag. He pulled out a folder and stood, handing it to my mom. “We can go over the procedure that will be done, what is involved, and the risks that might accompany Ben’s recovery.”
The doctor’s carefulness was almost all gone, and Charlie was glad. He didn’t like it, it made things foggy in his mind. “I believe Dr. Wong plans on showing you a visual demonstration of the entire procedure so that you all know what is involved. The things we’ll discuss are the risks implicated with that kind of process. As with any operation, there are hazards,” he went on, even sharper now as his mom and dad nodded. “And where some operations have few risks, yours has many. If you could find the page labeled psychological risks, we’ll start there.”
Psychological risks. Charlie’s stomach started flipping out. Since he didn’t know why it flipped out, he imagined his mind had an idea and responded accordingly. Or maybe it was just the not knowing that did it. He’d know soon and was glad. Not knowing was worse than anything.
“There are more than two hundred classified forms of mental illnesses, some more common than others, like clinical depression, bi-polar disorder, dementia, schizophrenia, and anxiety disorders. Symptoms can include changes in mood, personality, personal habits, and or social withdrawals. So, we’ll start with number one. And, I must confess this list is in no particular order of severity.” He suddenly looked at Charlie. “If you have any questions about terms, or you’d like to talk about anything in particular as we go along, you are to stop us, understood?”
His no-nonsense business put Charlie at ease some more. “Yes sir,” he nodded, spying his mom’s fidgety hand again. She was nervous, and he still wasn’t sure why. He remembered what his dad said about her babying him and it was something she needed to do. He scooted over to his mother and put his hand on her lap. She immediately looked at him, hope making the brown in her eyes like melted chocolate. She took his hand in hers carefully and he nodded to let her know it was okay. He didn’t mind if it helped her. And by the way she petted his hand over and over while the doctor got himself situated in the chair, she needed to baby him pretty bad. Like a mother’s habit his dad said. She didn’t know how to stop being a mom even when Charlie didn’t really need her to be.
“The list is divided into categories as you can see and each one has sub-illnesses beneath.”
Charlie sat and listened to the many disorders, realizing he’d already learned the majority of them from the report he’d done on psychopathology in the ninth grade.
The doctor finally stopped and peered over the rim of his glasses. “Any questions?”
A round of murmured no’s then a clearing of his throat and “Very well. I’ll proceed with the particulars. Of course, you are at risk for all of these disorders,” he informed. “For the simple reason we have no idea what might go wrong or what part of the brain it would affect if it did. If it goes right, as we expect, you will still face all the risks listed here. The odds of you not having any issues at all are very, very, unlikely. I don’t say this to cast doubt, but to be realistic and prepare.”
“We understand,” his dad said.
“We knew the risks,” his mom nodded. “Well maybe not the exact ones but…we imagined.”
“Right,” the doctor said. “I will of course be giving you a quick reference manual that contains each disorder with its symptoms. When the time comes, you’ll have it as a reference should Ben start displaying behaviors you find unusual. You call me first and immediately of course, but if you can’t, you can locate the symptom in the index and it will give you the corresponding disorders he may be experiencing along with the various instances such disorders might occur, like from birth, diet, trauma, poisoning, or operation—which would be his case.”
His mom nodded. “Got it.”
“I can help,” Charlie said. “I can make a chart. Keep a diary.”
“Very good!” the doctor said, getting animated before widening his eyes. “This reminds me of an important assignment I have for each of you. I have developed a very in-depth questionnaire for all of you to fill out. It will be for his memories. He is to read it after the operation to help reacquaint himself to his past. You will do a written one, an audio, and a video, which would cover the major modes of learning.”
“That’s a great idea,” his mom said, smiling.
“The memory part of the procedure should take care of it, but it doesn’t hurt to have all the extra resources we can to ensure its complete success.”
“Agreed,” his dad said. “So how many days before the actual operation again?”
“Unless things have changed, it’ll be next Thursday, I believe. But don’t quote me, Dr. Wong would need to verify.”
Charlie did the math quickly. It was Sunday. That meant five more days.
“He said unless my condition worsens, it was on schedule. But I forgot what the schedule was. Oh, I remember,” dad said. “After he… after he…”
Charlie’s stomach tensed, watching his dad struggle.
“It’s okay,” mom whispered, touching his arm. “Don’t strain.”
“I…it’s like words just…leave from my mind, like…there’s a hole they slip through.”
“I see,” the doctor said. “I think we should take a break anyway. We’ve covered a lot.”
“I’m not tired, I can go on. There’s nothing hurting, it doesn’t hurt,” he told mom.
“Good, but…I’m kind of hungry,” she said, turning to C
harlie.
“Me too,” Charlie nodded, worried. “But I can wait,” he said, not wanting to upset his dad.
“Two against one,” dad said, sounding like his old self, easy to please.
Mom leaned in and kissed his cheek and Charlie’s stomach loosened a little. He was glad they were kissing more. He hadn’t really noticed they’d stopped until they started again. Then he realized it and wondered over it. Was it the sickness? He hoped not. It wasn’t Dad’s fault being sick. But then maybe dad was the one who stopped. He didn’t know. But he was glad they seemed to be in love again.
****
“Come on, we have to,” Cheryl cooed, climbing on the bed with the camera, videoing him. “Say something that you’ll want to remember, that you never want to forget. Liiiike how pretty you think I am? And sexy?”
His mouth spread with a smile at her. Then it hit him.
“Uh, oh, what’s that look?” She lay on the bed next to him, aiming the camera at his face still. “You don’t think I’m that seeeexxxyyy?”
He stared into the camera. “I never want to forget that…you’re good at hiding your true feelings and I need to ask you questions so you can’t hide from me. And I’m sure that if I were to get fifty head transplants, I’d never forget that I love you more than anything in this world since the moment you gave me a piece of gum at church when we were barely teenagers. But just in case, I especially never want to forget that you love pleasure and you need a lot of it, and it’s my job to give it to you. Cheryl…”
She sat up, wiping the tears from her face. “What?” she barely quipped.
“Don’t… let me forget those things, okay? Everything that’s important to you, make sure I know it. I don’t want to take any chances.”
She nodded as she leaned in, kissing his lips carefully. “I’ll make sure.”
Five seconds of her lips then tongue, and he was winded. “I’m sure once you kiss me it’ll all come back to me,” he whispered, stroking her face then grimacing on a shard of pain.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, pulling back.
“It’s…not you, please,” he strained, hating that she blamed herself.
“Should I call Dr. Wong?”
“No…it’s gone. Just like a flash of lightening.”
“Is it new? Remember he said to tell him if you had new pains?”
“I remember.”
“I’m only saying it because you could lose your memory.”
“I remember that too.”
“Can you lay down? You should try to sleep. I will make it all up to you in recovery. I promise. You will be sick of sex after the first week that you’re able.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” he said, laying carefully on his right side. It was the only side he could lay on.
“What did you think of the other doctors?”
Ben took in a deep breath, preferring not to think about it.
“I had no idea Dr. Rama… Ramaldy? Is that her name?”
“I have no idea,” Ben said, honestly. He’d not been able to retain a lot of what they’d talked about and he was glad Dr. Wong did most of the talking for him.
“Anyway, I had no idea she was so pretty.”
Ben’s eyes slowly opened to Cheryl next to him, her eyes on the ceiling.
“Don’t you think?” She looked at him and narrowed her eyes after a few seconds. “I know you’re not blind.”
“I am blind,” he whispered. “I have Cheryl vision, you’re all I can see.”
The smile she gave him made him grin back. “Come here,” he whispered. “I want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”
She scooted over and put her back against his chest and tangled her legs in his. Then untangled them, then re-tangled them differently. Then repeated the amusing leg shuffle.
“Cheryl,” he mumbled, curious.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
“If you’re not tired, you can get up.”
“It’s not that, it’s…” She slid her legs all over his. “I can’t stop wanting to feel you. I miss touching you. I miss feeling you. I never remembered your legs feeling so good.”
“Mmm,” he said softly, engaging in the leg-locking back. “I do know. You feel so good.”
“You sound tired,” she whispered.
“I am.”
“Are you usually tired?” she wondered.
He heard the worry in her tone. “Usually, yes.”
“Okay. I like Dr. Bambi. Do you? Isn’t that a cute name?”
“Almost as cute as Dr. Cockrans,” he murmured.
Cheryl snickered. “He reminds me of Uncle Leroy.”
“Oh God, you’re right,” Ben said, pressing his mouth into her hair, smelling her.
They were quiet for a while and Cheryl whispered. “I wonder what Uncle Leroy and them are up to? Do you think Charlie’s okay?” Cheryl suddenly wondered.
“I think he is,” Ben mumbled, as Dr. Wong’s night-night juice coated his muscles in warm, soothing silk. “I really like Dr. Wong,” Ben said.
“Me too,” Cheryl cried softly. “And his wife, she’s so super sweet. And they are so in love, I really like that.”
“Mmm hmm,” Ben barely managed.
“Sooooo,” Cheryl whispered. “Your head is getting here tomorrow.”
Ben gave half a “Hmm.”
“Are you going to…want to look at it?”
Ben tried to think about her words and what they meant. It was hard to remember them in the order he heard when he was this fucking high.
“I hope you don’t mind that I don’t look. Charlie wanted to see it. That boy is stubborn,” Cheryl whispered. “I think it’s a bad idea, like…seeing the bride before…oh God that’s a dumb example.”
Ben smiled, hearing only the last sentence. “Bride of Frankenstein,” he slurred.
“Honestly, I kind of feel like a celebrity. I know that’s super weird to feel, but I just want to be open and honest about things. Ever since we…turned a corner, I feel like I want to tell you everything, not keep anything from you, you know?”
Ben pulled her closer, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out with a soft moan. “Love you,” he murmured.
She grabbed hold of his hand in both of hers and put it at her mouth, kissing it repeatedly. “Three more days,” she whispered. “Three more days and you get a new life.”
****
A crackling noise broke the silence, startling Charlie. “Charlie, Charlie, come in Charlie. It’s me Alice.”
Charlie scrambled out of his bed and fetched the walkie talkie Alice had given him. He pressed the button, smiling. “I’m here.”
“You’re supposed to say roger that Alice in Wonderland.”
He climbed back in bed and turned on his side. “Roger that Alice in Wonderland.”
She let out a giggle. “Good, Charlie Brown. What are you doing?”
“I was going to sleep, what are you doing?”
“Counting dragons.”
Charlie stifled his laugh. “Is that like counting sheep?”
“It is, only more interesting. Sheep make me sleepy. They’re all fluffy and white.”
Charlie liked Alice more each time he hung out with her. She was peculiar. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Not for me, Charlie Brown. I told you, I’m not normal. I don’t like sleep and I don’t need it. I do it because my mom and dad worry, I’ll die if I don’t. So, I sleep for them. I’m more awake at sleep time than I am during the day.”
“Maybe if you learned to sleep you might be more awake during the day.”
“Now you sound like my parents.”
“Sorry. But sometimes parents are right, I’m just saying.”
“Tell me more about America, Charlie Brown.”
He thought it was funny that she called him that and wanted him to call her Alice in Wonderland. He hated the Charlie Brown nickname, but because she loved the Peanut Gang and had tons of collectibles—Charlie Brown being her f
avorite—it made it acceptable. He might even like it, coming from her. Funny how that worked out. The advantages of not being tainted by society and its useless trends, thanks to her homeschooled education—which she hated. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about school. Is it fun?”
“Not at all,” Charlie assured.
“What!?”
Charlie grinned at her shock. He could see her face in his mind. Her mouth in that perfect circle and her dark eyes lit up. “Mostly because the other kids are jerks.”
“Jerks? Like not nice? How?” she wondered.
“I can’t believe you don’t know.”
“Well, I would if I could,” she said, sounding offended.
“I mean I can’t believe you got out of having to go to real school. I’m glad you did, and I’m glad not to be going.”
“Well…we can school together,” she suggested, sounding hopeful.
He liked that idea. A lot. “That would be cool.”
She gave a giggle. “Charlie Brown said cool. You have your father’s eyes,” she said out of the blue.
“So do you.”
She sucked in a breath. “I do not!” she whispered making Charlie laugh.
“You do too.”
“Are you being mean to me? A jerk?”
He chuckled, flipping on his back. “No, I’m not being a jerk, I’m telling the truth. Don’t you like your dad’s eyes?”
“I don’t want to have boy eyes,” she complained.
“But your dad’s eyes are…” Great, this was going in a bad direction.
“Are what?”
“Pretty,” he released, cringing.
She giggled then giggled some more until she was full out laughing. “I wonder what he would think of having pretty eyes?”
Charlie’s stomach loosened, glad that was over.
“But you have your mom’s nose and mouth.”
So much for being done with looks. Was she talking about it on purpose? With her, probably. “If you say so,” he said, ready to change the subject.
“I do say so. Are you scared, Charlie Brown?”
“Scared?” Charlie’s heart sped up at the question. “About what?”