Misunderstood

by Jay Sherfey

  “All in the bag.” Lydia shrugged her left shoulder to indicate the cabinet to the left of the sink. “We might make better money this time.”

  Frank nodded; then headed downstairs. He left his cup on the table and Lydia to her strategic thinking. He shook his head unable to get rid of the hollow eyes that stared back at him from the shed door weeks ago. The boy had been seriously sick. Frank remembered the dead grass being wet and slippery, as he and Lydia walked across the backyard. She had released the lock. The door swung open.

  “Whoa,” Frank had said, standing at the door with Lydia. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of vomit. “Somebody was sick last night.”

  “Take care of it,” ordered Lydia. Frank handed Lydia the usual two cups of medication, stepped into the shed, passed Jason, and grabbed the bucket. He held it at arm’s length as he crossed the yard.

  “You sick?” Lydia waited while Frank went to dump the bucket in the bathroom.

  “Yeah. Tough night.” Exhausted from retching most of the night, he leaned against the door frame. Jason watched her carefully. She was the one with the key to the lock on the tool shed door.

  “Here.” Lydia held out the usual cups.

  “No!” Jason backed away a step, feeling queasy. “That’s what made me sick.”

  “Hmm.” The corners of Lydia’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Well, the shed’s still standing. That counts for somethin’.” Frank came up from behind. He walked up to Jason and handed him the cleaned bucket.

  “Thanks,” said Jason.

  “Go use the bathroom.” The pills slid into her pocket. She refused to admit that his soft brown eyes, imploring her to take away the pills, made any difference in her decision. His hair had grown a few inches, dark brown and wavy. Lydia thought he was a good looking kid.

  “No pills?” Frank addressed Lydia. “Worth a try, I guess.” She waved him off and watched the boy carefully.

  Jason set the bucket by the door and started across the snow covered yard unassisted. After the exquisite quiet, the familiar mental noise hit closer to the house. Stunned, he stumbled on the porch steps. Frank and Lydia followed his every move. He steadied himself by grabbing the step railing. Two voices screamed and flashes, like snapshots, of fists aimed at his face paralyzed him momentarily. With a great effort Jason took the last two steps as one and entered the kitchen. He used the bathroom without a breakdown and made it back to the shed. The lock clicked, and the annoying buzz in his head faded, as Frank and Lydia walked away. Back on his cot he felt weak but better, he put two and two together. Maybe he wasn’t what Frank called him, he thought, a psycho. To find out for sure, he needed the door left unlocked.

  “You don’t have to feed me or lock me in,” Jason stated the next day; he took the paper bag lunch from Frank. He looked from Frank to Lydia. “I’m OK. I won’t cause any more trouble. I can take care of myself.” This sudden clarity and reasonable request shocked the adults.

  “I don’t know,” said Frank. He glanced Lydia’s way. She looked the boy up and down and considered the risk. An opportunity for extra money rang the cash register in her head.

  “Fine. We’ll give this little miracle a trial run starting,” her foot tapped the ground, “Wednesday. As long as we have no trouble between now and then, the lock comes off.” She turned abruptly and walked back to the house. Frank pushed the door shut, slammed the metal latch into place, and closed the lock. He turned toward the house.

  “Wait,” called Jason through the door. “What day is it today?”

  Frank stopped and glanced back at the shed.

  “It’s Monday,” he yelled; then scooted across the yard to catch up with Lydia.

  Two days of the regular routine dragged interminably. Frank hung around at meal time. He made sure the boy could feed and control himself. At noontime Wednesday, true to her word, Lydia removed the lock. Silent, she tossed him a brown bag lunch, looked him in the eye, nodded, and left. Jason walked out of his prison and around the yard. Taking a deep breath of the frosty air, he settled on the ground and leaned back against the big oak tree next to the shed. He smiled and opened the bag. Peanut butter again but it never tasted so good. He took a big bite and closed his eyes. The feel of peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth made him laugh. Jason worked the lump free, swallowed, and considered what he might do with his new found freedom.

  * * *

  The crack of the bat echoed around the field the day after Jason’s dinner with Russ’s family. The ball sailed over the left field fence and the Shiller’s Saloon Bulldogs took a two run lead over the Jackson Used Car Rockets. Russ, wearing the white with red striping of the Rockets, threw his catcher’s glove down in disgust. A cloud of dust erupted around home plate.

  “Explain what just happened,” requested Suzy. She, Jason, and Rachel sat in the bleachers along the third base line.

  “That kid,” said Rachel. She pointed at the boy who rounded third base, “just hit a homerun, a homer.” The boy in the gray with green pin-stripes of the Bulldogs made a cross-eyed face at the third baseman as he passed.

  Frank Dubois sat quietly two rows up. He looked around; he searched for a face in the crowd. Harry and Peg Wyatt sat with him. They tried to start up a conversation with Frank, but his one word answers told them he would rather be left alone. They focused on the game.

  Jason only half listened to Rachel’s explanation; he breathed deep the fresh air and enjoyed the day’s warmth. The sun stood high in a cloudless sky. The mild, late April weather got people out of their houses to do yard work, enjoy a picnic, or come to a baseball game. Jason controlled the mental chatter even though he sat surrounded by raucous fans. The exercises Russ and Suzy forced on him helped.

  Chapter 4

  Months earlier, as the winter cold loosened its grip, Suzy sought out Jason in the playground. It was Jason’s first full day of school.

  “So, how did it go?” she asked. She came up short when the flame haired boy stepped from behind him. “Who’s this?”

  “A new friend,” said Jason. “Suzy, this is Russ.” He placed his hand on Russ’s shoulder. “Russ, Suzy.”

  “Hi,” said Russell. “That pink blouse looks kinda nice on you.” He winked at Jason; then broadcasted his winning smile at Suzy.

  “Hi.” Happy with the unexpected compliment, she mumbled, “Thanks.”

  Both turned their attention to Jason.

  “Well?” asked Suzy.

  “OK,” he said. “I need to tell my only two friends in the world some stuff about me. We only have about ten minutes before the buses load up. Listen carefully. You have got to promise never to tell anyone else, ever. If you do, well, our friendship is over. You understand right?” He looked at both with a stern expression to make his point.

  They nodded. Jason launched into a detailed description of all he could remember of his psychic abilities and how he stumbled into them. His arms and hands punctuated his words, as he laid out his painful rise from the ashes of a drugged existence to his current state of self-awareness.

  “I knew it!” screamed Suzy, grinning ear-to-ear. “I knew there was something. I knew it.”

  “Calm down Suzy,” said Jason. He looked around to see if anyone noticed her outburst.

  “So you’re saying you have powers like Sue Storm of the Fantastic Four?” asked Russ.

  “Fantastic Four? What’s that?” asked Jason.

  “Oh man, how can you not know the Fantastic Four? How about Spiderman or the X-men?” Jason shook his. Russ stared in disbelief. “You’ve been living under a rock.”

  “OK. OK.” Jason brought his hand to his forehead. Weariness began its slow assault. He needed to sleep. “Let’s not make too big a thing out of this. Tell me what they are.”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” Russ reached into his book bag and pulled out a comic book. He handed Jason the latest Fantastic Four edition. On the cover, a woman in a blue costume with the number four emblazoned on her chest used her mind to throw a
force field around another blue costumed character. It protected him from a blast of light energy. Russ looked over his shoulder. “Can you do that?”

  “I have no idea.” Jason studied the picture and wondered.

  “What can you do?”

  “It’s like I told you, not much. It’s hard just to get the noise level down. You have no idea how much you are hitting me with right now.” He pointed to Russ. “It’s hard work to stop it.”

  “What do you get from me Jason?” asked Suzy.

  “Well, that’s the strange part.” He turned to face her. “I don’t get anything. Maybe that’s why it’s easy to be near you.” Suzy beamed. She threw her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

  “Suzy?” said Jason through clenched teeth, “I can’t breathe.” She let him go and stood back. Jason rubbed his arms and stared at her. “You’re strong for your size.”

  “Hey, where does that leave me?” demanded Russ who stood there with his hands apart, his palms facing up. “I’m not gonna hug ya.”

  “We’re friends and we have to help each other. I’ll help you with your problems. You help me with all the things I don’t know but should if I had been in school. How’s that?”

  “Pretty slim to my way of thinking. What you need is a manager.” Russ stepped forward and put his arm around Jason’s shoulders and waved his other, palm out and invited Jason and Suzy to share his vision. “Someone to run interference for you. A good talker. An idea man.”

  “What now, idea man?” asked Jason. He laughed.

  “Don’t know yet but I’ll work something out.”

  “OK. You’re the manager and Suzy helps me learn more about what I do.” He threw one arm around Russ’s shoulder and the other arm around Suzy’s. From now on they would be a team. He dropped his hands to his side. Russ stepped away, bursting with energy.

  “Wait, wait! I got an idea,” said Russ, excited. He faced them. “How about you practice what you already can do. Ya know, so you can do it better.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows.

  “That’s how I got this far,” stated Jason. It felt good to be around Suzy and Russ. He wasn’t so alone anymore.

  “You need to do push ups and sit ups,” said Russ. He waved his arm to dismiss Jason’s objection. “Like my old man always says ‘you wanna get stronger, you hav’ta work at it’.”

  “Oh, I think I get it,” said Suzy and nodded at Russ.

  “Like you just said,” followed Russ. “You’re working hard now to keep the noise from my brilliant thoughts getting too loud in your head.”

  “Yeah.” Suzy continued his line of thought. “Let in all the thoughts. Let the noise get loud; then shut it off the best you can, as fast as you can.”

  “Do that, my man, ten times, rest, then do it again.” Russ grinned and pointed at Jason. “You’ll work up a good sweat. That’s what I am getting at. Work up a good sweat.”

  For weeks Jason did exactly that to near collapse. Suzy and Russ drilled him ruthlessly.

  Chapter 5

  Jason sat in the bleachers and watched the game while the random thoughts of hundreds of people barely registered. He could be a regular guy and enjoy a game.

  Baseball amazed Jason. Everything here was a new experience. When he entered the stadium the intense green of the grass surprised him. His gaze gravitated to the perfect field, as he moved with the crowd into the stands. The wind brushed the field with its soft, warm breath. It felt good to be in this place of such ordered ‘greenness’. He just wanted to lie back in the new grass and feel it against his bare skin.

  The town’s people called the field Amber Stadium, but it was more a ball field with walls along the outfield perimeter and bleachers along the base lines to accommodate a few hundred people. No changing rooms or showers, the kids came in their uniforms or suited up in the parking lot. One section of the lot catered to the food vendors who hawked hot dogs, beer, popcorn, and more.

  “The board says two outs,” said Jason. He nodded to the scoreboard over the center field fence. He thought for a moment and scratched his head. “So, that was the first two guys who batted. One got tagged at the first base and the other guy missed the ball too many times. Right?”

  “Jason, under what…?” Rachel looked shocked that a boy could know so little about baseball.

  “I know. I know. Rock.” He shook his head. “I get a lot of that. But when did I get a chance to learn? Ya, know?” Jason glared at her.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” She paused and looked out over the field. “Sorry.” She turned back and said, “When you swing and miss the ball three times, it’s called a strike out.”

  All focus returned to the field; the game resumed with the next batter.

  “Hey,” said Frank. He stood in the aisle next to Jason, “I’m goin’ to the concessions. Stay out of trouble. I’ll be right back.” They nodded stunned for a second. They forgot he was there.

  Another crack of the bat and everyone’s attention sailed with the ball. The outfielder back peddled and snatched the ball; he banged into the fence. The green wooden wall bowed with the contact. The fielder held up his glove to show the caught ball. The crowd applauded the catch; it ended the fourth inning. .

  “OK,” said Rachel, turning to her two students, “any more questions?” Jason and Suzy had many. Patiently, she answered them.

  Earlier, before the game started, at two o’clock Saturday afternoon Russ, his parents, no sisters, Frank, Suzy, Rachel, and Jason ate hot dogs and drank sodas in the parking lot. The carnival atmosphere infected everyone. Even Frank, a constant worrier, enjoyed himself. He even pulled out his brown wallet and offered to contribute to the costs.

  “No, no. My treat.” Mr. Wyatt waved him off. Frank nodded his thanks.

  “Look,” said Russ who helped Jason doctor his hot dog. “It’s like this. Do you like mustard, ketchup, relish? What?”

  “A…,” said Jason, shrugging. He looked at the dog in the bun, then at his friend. “What’s the yellow stuff most have on theirs?”

  “That’s mustard.” Russ grabbed a yellow squeeze bottle turned it over and spread a line on Jason’s. “You eat it like this.” He took a large bite from one end.

  Jason followed his example. “That’s good” came out as “thass gud”. Mustard coated his upper lip. Russ laughed.

  “You got a load of yellow on your mouth.” Russ wiped his hand across his mouth. He pantomimed what Jason should do.

  “Thanks.” Jason wiped his mouth and smiled. His equally mustard yellow teeth showed. Russ shook his head and chuckled.

  The fifth inning of the game started with the Rockets at bat. Russ led the batting order.

  “No hitter! No hitter!” yelled the catcher, squatting behind home.

  “No hitter, my butt,” said Russ calmly. He took a few practice swings; then smacked the first pitch into short centerfield for a base hit. A wall of noise erupted. The Rockets were thought to be outmatched by the Bulldogs. The underdogs could count on support from the crowd. The first base coach whispered into Russ’s ear, as he tossed his batting helmet to the side and put on his red cap. Russ nodded; then took a lead off the first base bag.

  Jason leaned over Suzy to ask Rachel a question. “What was that discussion all about?”

  “He probably told Russ to wait on the long ball and then tag up.” She leaned toward Jason but never took her eyes off the field. “If the ball is hit on the ground make it hard for the other team to make a double play.”

  “How does he do that?” Jason watched the next batter, a big kid, as he stepped to the plate.

  “He runs to second and gets in the way of the second baseman’s line of sight to the first baseman, if he can,” said Rachel in a loud voice.

  The batter swung at the first pitch. It thwacked into the catcher’s glove for a strike. He connected with the ball on the next pitch. The ground ball streaked up the middle of the infield across the second base bag into the outfield for a stand up single. The centerfiel
der rushed the ball. Russ ignored the third base coach who signaled him to stop at second base. Russ charged and rounded second base for third. The centerfielder picked up the ball and threw it to the short stop who hesitated. He fired the ball to the third baseman. Russ slid into third base, stirring up a cloud of dust. The ball came in high.

  “Safe!” called the umpire.

  Russ jumped up and knocked the dirt and dust off his uniform. Everyone jumped to their feet and clapped. Shrill whistles echoed across the stadium. Russ took off his hat and held it high to thank the fans for their support. He put it back on and focused.

  “You’re next!” Russ screamed at the opposing catcher. “Comin’ right at ya!” The crowd enjoyed Russ’s play. The loudest applauds and screams came from Jason and Russ’s parents.

  “Hey! Lansing!” Russ called to the Bulldog’s pitcher. “You still wearin’ your sister’s pretty pink underwear for luck?” Laughter erupted in the stands. The pitcher ignored him; the next batter came up. Russ continued to razz the pitcher and the other players to throw off their game. Jason, distracted, stopped laughing.

  At the end of the bleachers on the other side of the field Frank and a tall, thin man in a dark jacket spoke. Jason watched the two interact several hundred feet away. The man gestured wildly with his hands. Frank held his hand to his head. It looked like he received some very bad news. Trouble for Frank meant problems for the whole Dubois house. This meeting could not be good.

  Jason focused on the man in the jacket. He tried to read his body language. There was no way he could get into someone’s mind so far away. Jason blocked out the game, the cheering crowd, and focused on the drama across the field. He put his hand behind his ear as though he might hear something. Suddenly, like shooting through a tunnel at high speed, Jason flew into Frank’s mind. He looked at the slim guy over Frank’s shoulder.

  “…agreed to it but the Philly bosses are not happy, Franky. Not happy at all,” said Sly. “Up to now this venture has been low volume but high profits with little or no costs. The profitability isn’t there now.”