“‘Different’? What do you mean, ‘different’?”
“Honestly, Greg, sometimes you’re so oblivious. Look what she did with that pantry.”
“What did she do? She has an interest, a hobby. Would you rather she be like some of these other kids? Don’t you hear people complaining because their children are doing badly in school or hanging around with the wrong types? I admit she has some shortcomings, just as anyone does, but when you consider some of the flighty and immoral teenage girls nowadays … for crying out loud, Dorothy, look what’s going on with drugs.”
“As usual, you manage to distort what I’m saying. There should be more to life than schoolwork.” She turned to Hardy, who felt like leaving them in the classroom and backing quietly out the door. “How could she enjoy working with rats? It gives me the creeps just to think of them crawling over her hands, nibbling out of her palms. It’s so … so unfeminine, don’t you think?”
“Well,” Hardy said, “I …”
“That’s a ridiculous thing to say to a science teacher. Don’t you think there are female science teachers?”
“But a female science teacher would have other interests. Wouldn’t she, Mr. Hardy?”
Fortunately, the bell rang. He slapped his hands together and laughed, grateful for the entrance of other parents. The Wilsons thanked him, but they continued their argument as they left the room.
Dorothy brought the topic home with her, eager to pounce on Lois now that she was armed with the teacher’s testimony. She went directly to Lois’s room that night and confronted her with Mr. Hardy’s statement.
“I have no idea why he said it,” Lois responded. She didn’t look up from her book, because her eyes began to tear immediately and she didn’t want her mother to see that. Why did she have to come home with something negative? Here Lois had achieved all these high marks and great test scores. When would they appreciate her for what she was?
“I’m sure you have some idea,” Dorothy said, walking farther into the room.
‘*Lois finally lowered her book. “Hardy’s an idiot. He teaches right from the textbook. Sometimes his class consists of him reading out of it word for word. I don’t have to attend school for something as simple as that.”
“I’m not interested in Mr. Hardy’s teaching abilities. I’m interested in your relationships with other students, kids your age.” Lois just glared at her. “I’m not going to be intimidated by your expression, Lois. I think this is a serious thing.”
“What is it you want me to say?” Lois asked, pronouncing each word deliberately, through clenched teeth.
“It’s not what I want you to say. It’s what I want you to be aware of.”
Lois realized her mother was about to begin one of her favorite lectures. She considered running out of the room and locking herself in the bathroom.
“I don’t have to imagine how you treat other kids, Lois. I’ve seen you in action. You talk down to people. If they don’t have the same interests you have, you consider them worthless. It’s not a nice trait. You don’t make friends that way.”
“I’m not running in any popularity contest, Mother.”
“Nobody’s asking you to be in a popularity contest.” Dorothy hesitated a moment and then spoke quickly. “Doesn’t it ever bother you that no boys ever call? You’re a senior, and you haven’t been to one school dance. You’re not an ugly girl. You have some very nice features. If you would just do something with your hair,” she said, reaching out to rearrange some strands. Lois pulled back instantly. Dorothy let her hand remain in the air.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Those things don’t interest me.” She felt her throat tighten, but she fought back. She wouldn’t get emotional; she wouldn’t get upset.
“Well, they should. Those things were always important to me, and I wasn’t exactly abnormal.”
“We’re different people,” Lois said in a consciously subdued voice. She was practically whispering.
“It’s not a question of being different. Everyone longs for the same things. You’ll regret the things you’ve missed, believe me,” Dorothy warned. Lois looked at her, her expression softer, sadder. Dorothy was encouraged and continued in a more mellow tone.
“I never told you, but I cried the night you didn’t go to the senior prom.”
“What?”
“It used to be such a big thing when I was in high school, especially for a girl.”
“Why?”
“Why? It’s a memory, a night to press forever in your mind.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have room for that kind of nonsense in my mind,” Lois snapped.
“That’s exactly what Mr. Hardy must mean, that kind of attitude. It’s not normal, it’s—”
“So I’m a freak. Is that what you mean? You’re embarrassed because you have a freak living in your house.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. I know what you think.”
“It’s not just me. Your father is worried about you, too.”
“So you both think I’m weird. So what?” She turned away.
“Why must you twist everything? All I want is for you to be happy. You don’t relax enough and enjoy your youth. When you get to be my age, you’ll wish you had. I was in such a happy daze. High school was a continous roller coaster of emotions. You shouldn’t be afraid of it.”
“I’m not afraid of it!” Lois shouted. The veins in her neck strained against the skin. Dorothy stepped back. “I don’t care about it! I don’t care! I don’t care! Do you understand? Do you?”
“What is it? What’s going on in here?” Gregory Wilson stood in his daughter’s doorway and looked in. Dorothy stood with her hands clenched against her bosom, staring at Lois.
“Get out! Get out and leave me alone!” Lois raised her fists in the air and brought them down on her thighs. Dorothy turned quickly and walked out, brushing Gregory aside.
“I think you’d better calm down, young lady. Just calm down. Your mother’s only interested in your welfare.”
“Is she?” Lois said. She turned away. “Or is she just worried about her own image?” She looked at her father. “Am I as much of an embarrassment to you, Daddy?”
“I never said anything like that, and I’m sure your mother didn’t, either.”
“She didn’t have to. Aren’t you at all proud of my work? You used to be so interested in my projects. We’d talk about them all the time. Why don’t you ever ask me about my work anymore?”
“Of course I’m proud of you.” He offered a short laugh. “You’re brilliant, doing brilliant work, I’m sure. In fact, a lot of it is already beyond me. The only point here,” he said, taking on a more serious demeanor, “is that you should try to develop some other interests as well. That’s all. No big deal. Nothing to get hysterical about.”
“I’m not hysterical.”
“Good,” Gregory said. “We’ll talk about these things when we can all be more rational.”
The moment he left the doorway, Lois got up and slammed the door closed.
Protected by solitude, she permitted herself to think what she considered more mundane thoughts. Her mother was wrong if she thought Lois never thought about boys. She had even begun to develop some interest in going to the senior prom. She had rationalized that interest by telling herself it was a sociological event. She would go more as an observer than as a participant. There was a boy she felt she could manipulate into taking her: Arthur Kotin. Like her, he was considered a brain and wasn’t very popular. But before she could begin to work on him, she had been victimized by a practical joke that had turned her off the prom idea completely.
The sadistic prank was engineered by Marlene Bockman, Berle Brustein, and Bonnie Diller. They coaxed Gerson Tavorowitz into asking her to the prom. Gerson was seventeen but read on a third-grade level. During his early years he had been in a confined classroom, but when he got up into the high school he was mainstreamed. Although he was p
laced in a nonacademic tract, he was mentally years behind almost everyone else.
Gerson came from what was known as a poor white trash family. His father worked on a chicken farm and his mother was a chambermaid at one of the smaller hotels. He had five brothers and sisters, and the family lived in a shack reminiscent of an Erskine Caldwell novel. He was often the butt of jokes because of his academic retardation and his poor hygienic habits.
As the prom date drew closer, the three girls, all of whom had had dates right from the start, sat around in study hall and giggled while they imagined what Lois Wilson would look like in a prom gown.
“She couldn’t wear a strapless because of those bony collarbones of hers,” Bonnie said.
“Maybe she’d come in a fancy lab robe,” Marlene said. They roared and were nearly sent out for making too much noise.
“It’s too bad no one has asked her to the prom,” Berle said. I wonder how she would look and act. I’ve never seen her at the movies or at a dance.”
“I saw her once. She went to see The Hellstrom Chronicle,” Bonnie said. “I think she took notes during the movie.”
“Oh, God!”
The girls grew quiet. It was Marlene who first noticed Gerson in the corner, picking his nose. The idea made her turn red with excitement. When she revealed it, the other two quickly agreed it would make a great prank.
“How do we get him to do it?”
“Let’s get him to think Lois likes him,” Marlene said, “and she’s waiting for him to ask her. He’ll believe us.”
“It’s worth a try,” Berle said, and they moved to Gerson’s table. He looked up with surprise as they surrounded him.
“How you doin’, Gerson?” Berle said. He looked from girl to girl and shrugged.
“If you have any trouble with your homework, we know someone who would love to help you,” Marlene said.
“You do?”
“Sure. Wouldn’t she, girls?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah.”
“She talks about you a lot,” Bonnie said. “I think she likes you.”
“I know she likes him,” Marlene added, taking on a very serious expression. “She told me so.”
“Who?” Gerson asked. “Who? Who?”
“We thought you knew,” Berle said. “Oh, maybe we shouldn’t have said anything.”
“We shouldn’t have,” Bonnie said. She looked guilty.
Gerson’s eyes widened. “But you already said something, so ya gotta tell me.”
“He’s right,” Marlene said. “It wouldn’t be fair to Gerson.”
“In that case,” Berle said, “it’s Lois Wilson.”
“Lois Wilson?”
“But don’t you dare tell her we told you anything,” Marlene said.
“You could sure get good grades with her as a girlfriend,” Bonnie pointed out.
“But she’s really waiting for you to ask her to the prom,” Berle said.
“She said she’d even pay for everything,” Marlene added.
“The prom?”
“The prom, the prom. Don’t you know about the prom?”
“I know about it,” Gerson said indignantly.
“Well, she’s not going to go with anyone else,” Marlene said. “If you don’t ask her, she won’t go.”
“Almost all the girls are going,” Bonnie said, looking at Berle. Berle nodded. “It would be too bad if Lois was the only one who didn’t.”
“I feel sorry for her,” Marlene said, letting an intensely serious expression wash over her face. Gerson was impressed.
“Don’t you want to go?” Bonnie asked in a very aggressive tone of voice. Gerson started to shrug and stopped.
“It’s going to be the absolutely best ever,” Berle said.
“I don’t have a car,” Gerson said quickly.
“Oh, Lois can take care of that. She can get her father’s car. Didn’t you ever wonder why she’s always standing near you in the hall and why she sits not too far from you in the cafeteria?” Marlene said.
“What d’ya say, Gerson?”
“I don’t know. I guess I could. …”
“Just ask her,” Bonnie said. “Just go up to her table today in the cafeteria and ask her. Say, ‘Would you like to go with me to the prom?’ That’s all there is to it, you’ll see.”
“Couldn’t you do it, Gerson?” Marlene said. “We feel so sorry for her.”
He thought for a moment and rubbed the side of his head.
“Maybe I will,” he said. “Yeah, I will.”
“We’ll see you at lunch,” Marlene said. The girls left the table, muffling their giggles until the period bell rang and they were safely out in the halls. They passed the word quickly, spreading the story from class to class. By the time the senior-high lunch period had arrived, almost everyone in the cafeteria was aware that Gerson Tavorowitz was going to ask Lois Wilson to the prom.
But it looked as though Gerson had forgotten the entire study-hall conversation. He settled at his usual table, one down from Lois’s, and began eating quickly. And as usual, Lois opened a book before her and started to read as she ate. The noise in the cafeteria was slightly subdued as the crowd waited in anticipation. Marlene got Larry Sanders to direct Gerson’s attention toward the three girls, who made frantic gestures indicating Lois and encouraging him to approach her. He nodded, remembering.
When he stood up, the cafeteria became silent. All conversations ceased; even plates and silverware were held quietly. Lois didn’t notice the change. She was oblivious of all surrounding sound. Gerson tapped her table with the knuckles of his left hand, a comical gesture that produced a few giggles. Lois looked up quizzically. When Gerson saw her face, he nearly panicked. He looked back at the three girls, who nodded and tried to look uninterested.
“So, listen,” Gerson said, “you know there’s a prom here, so why don’t you go with me, OK?”
“Huh?”
“He’s asking you to the prom,” Larry Sanders shouted, and the entire cafeteria broke into hysterics. Gerson stood smiling stupidly.
“Go sit down,” Lois commanded. She did it with such authority and vehemence in her eyes that Gerson simply turned away stunned. Lois didn’t blush or leave the table, but she saw that Arthur Kotin had watched the entire event. That convinced her not to pursue him, and she wrote off the entire idea.
Now her mother, and even her father, had the audacity to suggest that she was weird because she didn’t exhibit interest in such things. What did they know about how she was abused? Nothing; and yet they accused her of abusing others. She bit her lower lip in frustration and anger. The tears that came felt as though they sizzled on her hot red cheeks.
The day would come when they would appreciate her for what and who she was, she vowed. She chastised herself for reacting emotionally. Whenever she was so disturbed, she would turn more enthusiastically to her work. She slammed the door on her emotions as she had slammed the door of her room. Both actions rejuvenated her spirit; and with the enthusiasm of a patriot going to war, she turned back to her scientific inquiries, submerging herself in the data as a way of escaping from a world she was growing to despise. She looked forward to victories her mother, and perhaps even her father, would never understand.
2
Gregory Wilson owned and operated the only pharmacy in Sandburg. The hamlet actually consisted of only two streets: a long Main Street lined with a fruit and vegetable store, a luncheonette, a bar and grill, a fish store, a bakery, and a grocery; and a street called Post Hill Road that joined Main Street at its center to form a T. Post Hill Road contained the post office, a dairy, another luncheonette, Wilson’s Pharmacy, a butcher shop, a barber shop, and a hardware store. There used to be a department store, but it had closed down when the owners retired.
For ten months out of the year Sandburg had a rural quality to it, and its stores reflected the simplistic world. The pace was easy, almost nonexistent; but during the summer season, the hamlet became hectic and maddening. All of
the stores were cluttered with stock, for it was their owners’ main opportunity to make the year’s income.
During the past few years the Wilsons had taken in more and more goods, making the pharmacy into something akin to one of the big chain drugstores. The added efforts and responsibilities had increased the already overburdening work load. Dorothy’s contribution was minimal. She worked the cosmetics counter and did a little stocking and arranging and some maintenance cleaning; but most of her time in the store was spent conversing with customers. She was more like a hostess.
During the off season it was a marginal operation, but in the summer Gregory had to hire two counter-boys. Lois generally resisted working in the drugstore. During the early years she found it more convenient to volunteer to watch over Billy on weekends when he wasn’t at day camp. She had always been a precocious child, mature, sensible, trustworthy. Lois’s early maturity gave Dorothy Wilson freedom from the house and its responsibilities. Lois could cook, clean, and care for the needs of her younger brother.
So, as time went by, Dorothy didn’t object to Lois’s reluctance to work in the drugstore. Instead, she took advantage of it. If Lois was more comfortable being a homemaker and a surrogate mother to Billy, so be it. When she did come to the store to help out, she wasn’t much good anyway. She disliked waiting on customers, hated small talk, and spent most of her time discussing the relative psychological and emotional side effects of different drugs.
Gregory enjoyed his daughter’s inquisitive mind. He found her intelligent questions a welcome relief from the doldrums that accompanied the long, monotonous summer hours he spent trapped in the store. In fact, he saw something of his younger self in Lois’s curiosity about things scientific. There had been a time when she revived some of his early interests and he had actually enjoyed sitting with her and discussing her laboratory projects at school or the experiments she developed at home. He saw nothing wrong with her converting the old pantry into a small laboratory.
But he couldn’t believe the vivacity with which Lois attacked her readings. He took great pride in her academic achievements, as any parent would, but even he began to find her rate of mental growth more than remarkable. It was frighteningly abnormal, and although he rejected Dorothy’s criticisms out of hand, he quietly found more and more validity to them. Since Lois had begun school, she had been the highest-ranked student in her class. Her cumulative school average was one of the best ever for Garnertown Central Schools, and all of her standardized test scores placed her in the top one percent of the national percentiles.
Brain Child Page 2