Misunderstood

by Jay Sherfey

  “I can do things.” His wall of insecurity and fear cracked. Words leaked out. “I can do things with my thoughts. I don’t know much about how. I just do things.”

  Before he realized it, Jason’s whole story poured out in Mrs. Lim’s garden. The words gushed like the sea through a failed sea-wall. He gave up his fear and prayed for acceptance from just one person. Jason meticulously ticked off the items listed in his notebook, holding up a finger for each of his demonstrated talents. Eventually, the flood of words ended. It was out. Relief and fear of judgment flooded his mind until he looked up into Chiang’s face. Chiang patted his shoulder, proud that Jason felt safe enough to tell him. Tears suddenly burst from the boy. Finally, he thought, someone. His arms flew around Chiang; he sobbed uncontrollably. Shocked at first, Chiang relaxed and held his friend in silent acceptance.

  * * *

  As the summer days passed Frank and Lydia kept Jason busy running errands, cleaning the house, or doing yard work. It was a twenty minute walk to the grocery store. Jason made the trek every few days. This particular job he enjoyed.

  “Well, I have found our whistler.”

  The next few notes of the Beachboy’s 409 faded from Jason’s pursed lips as he glanced up. A pretty woman in sunglasses grinned at him. The two large cans of spaghetti sauce he held in either hand dropped into the grocery cart.

  “Oh, Miss Thompson,” he said, recognizing her. Jason stood up straight; then pulled his cart to one side which allowed her to pass. “Yeah, it’s a song I heard coming from a car in the parking lot.” He returned her smile.

  Miss Thompson and Mr. Downing monitored his first tests to place him in the right class. No records existed for Jason so the testing would allow the school to place him in the classroom where he would succeed. After his first official day in school, Miss Thompson presented three small gifts to Jason to commemorate the milestone. As he climbed onto the bus she had handed him a notebook and pencils and offered her smile. It was so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise, Jason could hardly speak his thanks. She became his angel.

  “Doing the shopping, I see.” She took a step back and pulled her cart around the corner to join Jason in the pasta and sauce aisle. Dressed for summer, Miss Thompson wore sky blue shorts with a matching top. A large pink purse sat in the child seat in her cart. She reached for her sunglasses and set them back on her curly brown hair like a tiara. Jason noticed that her hair was shorter.

  “Your hair looks good…I mean…you got it cut.” He fumbled, embarrassed. “It looks good.”

  “Why thank you sir.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Most boys your age wouldn’t have noticed.” Removing the sunglasses, she pushed back her hair with her fingers. She held the glasses in her hand. “How is your summer shaping up?”

  “Not as bad as I thought it would.” Jason tucked in his yellow tee shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. It suddenly became important to look more presentable. “With doing chores and helping out with other things around the house, time is going pretty fast. It’s better to be busy.” A week had passed since he divulged everything to Chiang.

  “Well, good.” She looked at him and absentmindedly began to chew on one stem of the sunglasses. “I never did get to test you further. Did I?” Jason did not respond. “You will undoubtedly get tested in middle school. Are you keeping up with your reading?”

  “Some. But I am writing more.” It felt strange to talk to a teacher in the middle of the A&P. Suddenly an idea popped into his head. “Miss Thompson, I need to learn a few things about the world war and genes. Who could help me out with those?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to the library?” She looked at him and slowly shook her head.

  “No. What is it?” He cringed and waited for her shock at his not knowing another simple thing.

  “It’s a gold mine, Jason, a gold mine,” she said with no hint of judgment. “It would probably be best if I took you over there. I’ve got tons of free time right now.” She rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a small book. “Let’s see. How about some day next week at noon? Wednesday, perhaps? I’ll pick you up at your house. Yes?”

  “It should be OK.”

  “Good. It’s a date. Now, to finish my chores for the day.” She grabbed the cart handle and spun, disappearing around the end of the aisle. Jason stared after her. Things were getting better.

  * * *

  The following morning, finished with their meditation, Chiang and Jason sat beneath the oak tree.

  “I have considered what you told me very carefully,” started Chiang. “We must move slowly and see where your abilities might go.” He considered Jason; then added, “Will you allow me to guide you for awhile?”

  “Yes.” For once, thought Jason, the load is not on me alone.

  “Given all that we have covered over the last few days, I have a few suppositions based on the data you have provided. First, you cannot use some of your abilities with your conscious mind. This is likely a built-in fail safe mechanism. For example, when you run in your dreams do you find yourself on the floor with a bloody nose having dashed into a wall?” Jason shook his head. “No, of course not. This is probably for your own protection. You must mature, that is to say, grow into your capabilities much like a child who gains fine motor control of his hands as he grows older. How long this will take is anyone’s guess.”

  “And my headaches?” asked Jason.

  “There are two possibilities where one or both may apply. It could be that the maturing process is in full swing. The headaches are a result. That is the best case.” Chiang paused for a second. He hesitated to bring up the alternative. “I am concerned, Jason. You need to know that another possibility is that another like you is trying to attack or break into your mind.”

  Jason uncrossed his legs and hugged his knees to his chest. “Another like me,” he whispered. Suzy and Patti, Russ’s little sister, came to mind.

  “You are surprised?” Chiang stood and gathered his things into his bag.

  “Yes and no. I know of others, but someone attacking me? Why?”

  “Come, let’s walk.” Chiang swung the bag over his shoulder and held out a hand, helping Jason to his feet. Side by side they moved down a path through the undergrowth.

  “Jason, you are unique,” said Chiang. “I am not talking about your abilities. I refer to the person you are at your core. With the limited control you have, you could have done great damage for personal gain. You didn’t.”

  “Well, I don’t want to get hurt or messed with so… why would I do that to anybody else?” He kept on eye on the path where flowing water had undermined part of the path.

  “My point exactly. You have your own lines drawn in the sand of your soul beyond which you will not go. Although you cannot describe it, I would call it a healthy desire to connect with people and do no harm.” Chiang surveyed their surroundings. There was a noise, a small animal perhaps. “There could be people like you without this self imposed limit.”

  Jason reached down and picked up a long stick about an inch thick, a walking stick. It felt good in his hand. He listened to Chiang and wondered what to do. They headed for the small lake at the center of the sanctuary. The water’s surface reflected the trees and sky. Across the lake geese paddled among the water lilies. Others flew in and landed majestically in a whoosh of water and wings.

  “So, now what?” Jason swung his stick back and forth to part the carpet of ferns thick around the lake. He searched for a dry place on the water’s edge where he could stand and watch the geese.

  “To tell you the truth…I don’t know. I have never known anyone like you.” Chiang stood back, watching Jason. “I suggest you use your gifts very little. Keep doing the meditations. Stay out of people’s minds except to defend yourself.” He looked to the horizon and noted the dark clouds, moving toward them. He added, “We should each return home.” He turned, faced back up the path, and stopped. “But before we leave, tell me, do you know the man
who has been following us today?”

  “Yes.” Jason smiled and wondered if Chiang had picked up on their tail. “He’s my foster father. Not much of a father, though.” Jason sensed Frank’s presence prior to the start of their meditation. “He is harmless, I think. Whatever Lydia, my foster mother wants, he does.”

  “They are trailing you because?”

  “I’m not sure.” Jason retreated from the lake’s edge and stood next to Chiang. “You can bet it has something to do with money.”

  “So, they will know about our meetings.” Chiang looked concerned.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. They will not want to upset me since they think I will be good for business. We will see.” They walked away from the lake. Close to their meditation spot they parted company with a happy “See you tomorrow”.

  Jason wondered if he should erase Chiang from Frank’s memory. He decided against it for now.

  Chapter 12

  “No library card! What do you mean no library card?” Mary Tremont slapped the well worn, ink stained blotter on the counter. She looked stern with her strong chin, granny glasses, and short, silver hair. A sturdy woman, she was an imposing figure. “Has this child been made to live in the dark, under a rock?”

  Books and magazines piled high like a great wall covered the long, mahogany counter. Louise Deloro joined Mary, and the two old women looked down over the published parapet to judge the capabilities of the boy brought to their attention.

  “It is a long story, Mrs. Tremont,” said Miss Thompson. “Jason is a mystery on many levels.” He blushed unable to look any of the women in the eye. Earlier, Miss Thompson picked him up in front of his house. She wore a yellow cotton skirt and peasant blouse which he thought looked good on her. Her perfume reminded him of Mrs. Lim’s backyard. His words failed him while they drove to the library. Miss Thompson did not give any indication that she saw her effect on the boy.

  “What do you think, Lou? Can he handle it?” Mary Tremont pulled a piece of paper from a drawer below the counter and handed it to Miss Thompson. She gazed at the boy.

  “Don’t know Mare.” She considered the child skeptically, her arms folded. Smaller and thinner than Mary, Louise projected a quiet strength and confidence in her realm of books. She looked at Miss Thompson. “What do you think? Is this subject,” she placed her hand on a thick textbook and nodded toward Jason, “something he can handle?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Deloro.” Miss Thompson smiled, delighted with the find. She finished up the paperwork for Jason’s library card. “It would be best, of course, if a primer on basic biology might also be provided. He may need some basic definitions not provided in the text.”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” said Mary. She tossed another smaller text on top. “Now, is there anything else we can do for you young man?”

  “Well…,” started Jason.

  “Come, come boy. Out with it.” No one described Mary Tremont as a patient person. Get right to the point, or you were better off not bothering her. Louise smiled benignly curious about the forthcoming request.

  “I need something on World War II.” Jason spoke fast. Before Mary could start interrogating him to narrow the scope of the search, he added, “Something on the B-17s or something like that.”

  Louise cupped her chin and looked around the room deep in thought. She came out from behind the counter and disappeared into the rows of tall shelves. Mary, her eyes closed, lightly touched the books stacked on either side of her. Suddenly, she took off in the opposite direction. In minutes, they returned. Mary bowed slightly to Louise, intimating that she should go first. Lou nodded.

  “This one just came to us. It is called Night Fighters. I have not read it. I will look to you for a review. Can you do that for me?” She handed Jason the book.

  “Sure,” he said excited. He studied the cover of the book. It showed a Spitfire in a night sky with machine guns blazing.

  “This book,” stated Mary rather formally, “has been out for awhile. Published in 1943 to be exact. It’s about the twenty five missions of the Memphis Belle.”

  Jason grasped the proffered book. He stared at the sky-blue cover with the B-17 bomber flying and smiled. Mary arched her eyebrow; then broke into a big grin. “My nephew flew in one of these. He thought this book was pretty fair considering it came from the Air Corps.” At last Jason would discover some things about his best friend’s dad and not feel so stupid.

  “Well, Miss Thompson,” said Louise, “this young man will be busy for a long time working through these.” She pointed to the books cradled in Jason’s arms. “So, let’s give him four weeks to get them back to us for renewal.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Deloro. That is most kind.”

  “I think,” said Mary, “that for the time being you may sign for his card. I trust that would not be too burdensome.”

  “No trouble at all.” Miss Thompson handed back the completed page. Lou handed Jason a temporary library card.

  “Come back in four weeks young man and we will renew your books for another four weeks.” Mary and Louise, satisfied that they brought another young soul into the light, started arguing about creating a unique designation for fictionalized history.

  Outside on the sidewalk Jason cradled his books anxious to get to his room and start reading.

  “I didn’t know you were interested in war history.” Miss Thompson fished in her purse for her car keys as they walked side by side.

  “Russ’s father was in the war. I didn’t know anything about it. So…” Jason watched amused as she argued with her orange purse.

  “Did you know,” she extracted her keys victorious in matching wits with the maze of her purse. “Mr. Downing is our resident history enthusiast. You might want to speak to him.”

  Jason frowned at the prospect of spending time with Mr. Downing. He remembered the testing earlier in the year and the grumpy old man’s snide comments.

  “Idiots,” Jason had heard Mr. Downing whisper curtly. “We are teaching idiots these days. I could do this in second grade.”

  “I am sure, Mr. Downing, the children are not idiots.” Miss Thompson had fired back forcefully.

  “Well… it’s all too easy these days. Too easy I tell you.” Jason saw in a brief flash, a child held over a desk and a yard stick coming down.

  The last thing Jason desired was to spend time with Downing.

  “Yes, yes he does take himself a bit too seriously,” she said. When she saw Jason’s woeful look, she added, “But he’s a good guy when you get to know him. Besides, he could get you back on par on all the things you have missed or do not remember from social studies.” They reached her car. She inserted the key in the door; then looked at Jason over the roof. “I bet he would even be able to help with some of the genetic material from a historical perspective. Will you give him a try?”

  “Yeah, alright.” Jason melted under her sweet gaze. He could not say no to her. “You gotta, sorta set it up for me. OK?”

  “Done!” In the car Jason gasped with the summer heat; she broke out her notebook. “Thursday evening looks good. I’ll let you know.” She started the car and let it idle.

  Jason wondered how she set an appointment for Mr. Downing without checking with him and if his foster parents would give their consent.

  “Mr. D and I have already spoken about you and…since I snatched you away from your house today,” she tossed her notebook into her bag, “Thursday evening will not be much of a problem.” Shocked, Jason just sat there nodding. “What did you think of our library ladies? Quite a team, aren’t they?”

  “A little scary at first.” Jason frowned.

  “Yes.” Miss Thompson laughed. “They tend to have that effect at first but they’re really very sweet.” She threw the car into gear and started to pull away from the curb. “They’re sisters, you know, and run the library as volunteers. They keep up the stacks and add new books with money out of their own pockets. Fairly wealthy from what I can deduce.�
� She reached into her bag, pulled out her sun glasses, and put them on. “Even the University professors go to them for support. They are the local information experts.”

  A cool breeze blew across the front seat. Jason inhaled Miss Thompson’s scent. He couldn’t describe how he felt at that moment but he did not want it to end.

  “Then,” she continued unaware of her effect, “if you ever get the chance to see them together, you will find out that Mrs. Tremont has feelings for Mr. Downing.” Jason could not imagine such a thing. “It’s quite touching in its way. Mr. D oblivious as most men are about such things. He’ll get it eventually.” She laughed. “Back to the house to read or out to lunch?” Miss Thompson took a right at the first corner and headed for the nearest diner, as if she could read his mind.

  “Lunch!” Jason never turned down an offer of better food. The prospect of more time with Miss Thompson, of a full stomach and, later, a good book brought a satisfied grin to his face.

  * * *

  Late Saturday night Frank roused Jason from a deep sleep. He had spent the day moving furniture from the basement to the detached garage. Exhausted, he skipped dinner and tried to do some reading in bed but fell asleep on the genetics textbook.

  “Com’on kid.” Frank pulled him up from his bed. “It’s show time.” The last page read by Jason stuck to his face. He still wore the clothes he worked in.

  “Showtime?” asked Jason. He yawned and peeled away the page; he stretched aching muscles. Bleary eyed he closed the book, and got up. Frank pushed him toward the door. “What do you mean?”

  “Never you mind,” commanded Frank. “Just get downstairs. We have something for you to do. Someone to meet.” In the hallway, Frank walked ahead and trotted down the stairs, two steps at a time. Jason heard his voice. “He’s up and coming.”

  What now? He rubbed his eyes and stretched again at the top of the steps. Slowly he clumped down the stairs to the landing. Lydia and Frank stood by the front door. Lydia pulled back the shear curtains, looking through the etched glass windows on either side. Jason sat on the lowest step and leaned against the wall; he shut his eyes and drifted off.