Misunderstood

by Jay Sherfey

  Mary leaned forward and placed her cup on the table. She rose and left the room; then returned with a newspaper opened to the middle pages. She folded it closed and held it up to display the headline. It was a tabloid found in grocery stores across the country. The headline read, “Miracle at Kearny”. The picture of Jason Sutter with his wrist held by a frail, elderly woman covered most of the front page.

  “We were discussing this when you walked in.” Both men leaned forward, shocked.

  “What does the article say?” asked Downing.

  Chapter 22

  The Dubois foster children watched from the living room windows. Strangers crowded the front of the house like supplicants at a holy shrine. Some knelt on the sidewalk, hands clung tightly in prayer. Others stood with placards held high crying out for help in bold, bright colors, “Save my Henry” or “You are a gift from God, Help Us”.

  Frank and Lydia watched from Lydia’s bedroom window.

  “I’ll kill that fool Will Grossman.” Lydia seethed. “Everything we’ve built here will be blown away with all of this attention.”

  “Can’t blame them,” said Frank, nodding to the people below. “They’re probably desperate.” Lydia stared at him, furious with his stupidity.

  “Shut up, you’re as pitiful as Will. I don’t give a damn about those fools out there. I’m talking about losing everything and going to jail.” She could not believe how difficult Frank had become in the last few months.

  Three weeks passed since the trip to the State Hospital at Kearny. Will followed through as always. The pictures featured on the front page of the Franklin Chase Messenger, an afternoon weekly publication. The words, deprived and damaged kids give back to the community, accompanied the pictures. The article wound up in Will’s offering to his bosses along with an assortment of his pictures. When the unexplained, miraculous cure came to the attention of the tabloids a week later, and their reporters discovered that someone had taken pictures, Will was contacted. He offered up the snapshots willingly. He would not leave five thousand dollars lying on the table. Frank and Lydia got two thousand.

  “Can’t blame Will.” Frank ignored Lydia’s venom. “I wouldn’t have turned down that kind of money either. We got our cut.” With no response from Lydia, he continued, “This will work itself out like those other times. Besides, who takes those papers seriously.”

  “Apparently they do, you jackass.” She pointed to the crowd. “Please god,” she rubbed her forehead. “Don’t let them sing again.” As if on cue, Amazing Grace filled the air. “Oh damn.”

  Lydia’s first impulse, when the first pilgrims found the house, was to drag Jason downstairs to lay his hands on these people at one hundred dollars each. The headache hit her like a sledgehammer and forced her to bed. She changed her approach. “Where’s the boy?”

  “Jason? He’s in his room so far as I know.” Frank listened to the hymn as it began its second verse. He was moved by the feeling in the voices.

  “He’s got something to do with this.” Frank had heard this before.

  “Give it a rest will you. This is all a tabloid created craze.” Frank gave vent to his annoyance. “This is coincidence and nothing more. People will interpret the picture as they need to. These people need a savior. They believe they have found one. I just wish there was some way to let them down easy.”

  “Screw ’em. I tell you, this boy has something to do with it.” Lydia moved away from the window; she sought a calm, quiet place to stop the budding pain. Frank wondered if the miracle at the hospital might have touched his mother.

  * * *

  Jason sat at his small desk surrounded by his latest round of books and stared at two newspapers. One was the afternoon paper. The other showed a photo of Jason firmly grasped by Sally Tillman, their eyes closed. Sally, the desperate child gone wrong, pleading for forgiveness and healing from Jason, the benevolent father. He studied the photo to learn more about what happened when he was off on one of his mind trips. The photograph showed Sally clearly but he looked fuzzy like he was vibrating faster than the film’s ability to capture his image. He heard the singing.

  “Damn. I can’t heal everybody,” Jason said to himself and set aside the paper. “I just got lucky with Sally.” This whole thing gave him a headache. He rubbed his eyes and sat back. His hand rested on a paperback book of historical fiction about a boy, alone, growing up at the turn of the century in rural Canada. He thumbed the pages, having just finished the story. Jason loved it and felt cheated when the final page arrived in under an hour. It was a life he would have cherished, if given the choice.

  He felt trapped by the people on the curb in front of the house, but there was nothing he could do. Down deep, however, he desired to run out and promise to heal everyone at the hospital. He fought this impulse; it felt like a dangerous thing to do.

  A chemistry textbook stood at an angle, opened; it leaned against the wall. The section described covalent bonding between atoms. Jason ran his finger over the words for the umpteenth time. He failed to capture the meaning and its relationship to what he read in the genetics text. What was the connection to the wad of ribbon he observed through Mr. Downing’s microscope? Something escaped his ability to comprehend. He could not grasp how the molecules held together.

  Pounding foot-steps on the stairs interrupted his focus. He turned to face his door. As it got louder, he braced himself for the inevitable knock. He would not go down and face those people.

  “Jason!” called Suzy. She banged on the door frantically. “Come quick, it’s Russ. Something’s wrong with his sister, Patti!”

  He bounded to the door and threw it open.

  “He’s in the shed out back waiting.” Suzy ran after him. He shot down the hall, took the steps two at a time, and rushed through the kitchen. Before the screen door slammed he was across the yard.

  In the shed, Russ paced. When Jason got there the tear tracks were still fresh on his face. He grabbed Jason’s arm and started dragging him out. “Something’s wrong with Patti. The doctor can’t get there ’til later today. You gotta come and help. This has to do with what you do. Come on.”

  “Wait,” said Jason and pulled back. “I can’t go out there. I’ll be mobbed. Tell me what’s goin’ on while I think of what to do.” Russ started to argue but instead collapsed onto one of the stools exhausted.

  “Last night really late, she started crying out in pain. I mean screaming.” Russ rubbed the tears off his face. “She stops for awhile; then it all starts up again. It’s awful. It’s killing my parents ’cause they can’t help.” He straightened up, feeling better that he would soon bring help.

  “OK. Suzy, how do I get away from here?” Suzy stopped worrying about Russ and thought. She smiled. “I’ve got just the thing.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Russ and two girls from the house walked down the side of the house from the backyard and talked loudly about going to the candy store near the A&P grocery. The people chanting on the street continued while some watched them carefully. They recognized the boy who had raced into the backyard earlier. They didn’t recognize either girl, not the one wearing jeans with the pigtails nor the other one in the long, blue, gingham dress with the rosy cheeks under a wide-brim summer hat. They wanted “the boy”; they lost interest in the kids walking down the street.

  “We’ll shoot back around to your house, Russ, in a few blocks,” whispered Jason. He glanced back. No one watched. “You better let me have my clothes to change before we get to your house.”

  “Yeah, good idea.” Russ wore two pairs of jeans and two shirts for the getaway.

  Jason nearly tripped a few times on the dress’s hem. Fortunately, his worn out sneakers did not show. “Suzy, can you get this make-up off me?” She nodded.

  Behind a line of bushes a few blocks over Russ stripped off his top set of clothes.

  “Are your older sisters home too?” asked Jason. He stepped into his jeans; then pulled the dress over his head.

 
; “No. Their each spending the night at their friends’ houses. It’s just my mom and dad, me and Patti.” Russ handed him the shirt. Jason balled up the dress and handed it to Suzy for their return journey. He put on his shirt; then sat on the curb. Suzy joined him. She licked a cotton handkerchief, wiped the rouge off his cheeks, and eyeliner from around his eyes.

  “OK,” she stated, looking at her handy work. “You’re done as best as can be expected.” The three children dashed the remaining distance to Russ’s house. They heard the screaming from the Wyatt front door.

  “Russ,” said Mr. Wyatt who opened the door, “there’s nothing Jason can do here.” Wyatt’s father looked worn out with dark circles under his eyes. “This is an adult situation that…” Mr. Wyatt stopped in mid-sentence and led the children upstairs. Russ leaned in close.

  “Work your magic man,” insisted Russ. He knew Jason controlled his father. “Work your magic.”

  Chapter 23

  Jason sat cross-legged, meditating. Patti’s screaming stopped moments after he started. Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt, who remained steadfast by their suffering daughter since the early, morning hours, relinquished their youngest child with a sudden, desperate need to sleep. Jason injected the insatiable need. Fear for their daughter generated countless questions; it slowed Jason’s rescue. He needed them out of the way, and both went hand-in-hand to their own room. After they left, Russ and Suzy sat on the bed with Patti who was wrapped in her white summer blanket. She slept, her arms clinging to a large, brown and white, floppy eared, stuffed dog. Her features earlier crabbed and stressed in pain, now relaxed in a deep, forgetful sleep.

  Focused on Patti neither of Jason’s friends saw the blood trickle from Jason’s nose. Only when he settled on the floor and fell back against the wall with a thud did they notice anything wrong with him.

  “Jason!” screamed Suzy, running to him. She knelt and wiped the blood from his upper lip; then patted his cheek. “Jason, say something.” He did not respond.

  “Oh Jeez,” said Russ who knelt at his side. “There’s blood coming out of his ear too.” He gently pulled Jason’s head to the side so Suzy could see his other ear.

  “Yeah, it’s there too.” She started to cry. “What should we do? We can’t just leave him like this.”

  “Let’s stretch him out of the floor and raise his legs. He may be in shock or something.” Russ put his arm behind Jason’s shoulders and leaned him forward enough to turn him so he could lay flat on the floor. Suzy grabbed a couple of pillows and put them under his feet.

  “Now we gotta wait,” insisted Russ. “There’s nothing more to do. At least I can’t think of anything.” He sat on the floor at Jason’s head and leaned back against the wall so he could keep an eye on his sister too. Suzy took up a post between Jason and the bed, resting her arm on the mattress. They waited in silence.

  An hour passed before Jason showed signs of coming around. Suzy and Russ had drifted to asleep. Jason’s cough brought them to full alert. He opened his eyes and took a deep, desperate breath, as though drowning in a raging sea. Eyes wide in terror, he looked at Russ and Suzy. His mouth moved, but no words came; his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious again.

  Suzy controlled her fear and stated calmly, “He’s healing himself.”

  Russ nodded. “Yeah, he’s on automatic like those other times.” Neither he nor Suzy felt as confident as they sounded. Both went back to their positions to maintain their watch. Scared for Jason and Patti, they did not doze off.

  “Whatever it was, he’s fighting back.” Suzy unable to sit still any longer got up and paced. She wanted to say something or wanted Russ to utter the right words to make their waiting feel like the right thing to do. Jason never showed such vulnerability before.

  Thirty minutes later he moaned and rolled onto his side, facing the bed. His eyes opened. “I can’t see.”

  “Oh, Jason,” cried Suzy relieved. She went to her knees next to him. She put her hand on his shoulder. “We thought you might be really hurt.”

  “Glad to hear anything from ya, man.” Russ stood up and walked around to kneel next to Suzy and check on his sister. Patti slept undisturbed.

  “Gave us a scare,” he said, looking down on his friend.

  Another few minutes passed until Jason raised himself on his elbow. He sat up; then waved his hand before his eyes. He slowly got to his feet. Unsteady, Suzy supported him with her hand on his arm.

  “My vision is back but pretty blurry,” he said. “My legs feel weak. I’m gonna need some help getting around. How’s Patti?” He stooped like an old man and struggled to get his legs in motion and face the bed.

  “She’s OK,” said Russ. “You saved her.”

  “Good.” Jason nodded. “I have done all I can. Help me get downstairs. We need to talk.” He stopped, stretched, and rubbed the back of his neck. His muscles complained, as if he had hauled heavy cases of ammunition to the front lines while dodging enemy fire every step of the way. “She needs to sleep now.” Jason turned toward the door and hobbled out into the hallway with Suzy’s support.

  “So, what happened?” asked Russ, following behind.

  “I thought I was getting a headache with all those people in front of the house begging for help. I was wrong about that.” Jason’s feet dragged on the rug; he stumbled. Russ caught him around the waist. With effort he righted himself and started down the hall again.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “Let’s get you downstairs in the kitchen,” said Russ. With Suzy on one side and Russ on the other, they navigated the stairs and made it to the kitchen without Jason collapsing. His legs regained their strength as time passed.

  “I can see things better now.” Jason dropped into the nearest chair at the kitchen table. Suzy took a dish towel and soaked one end in water; then rubbed soap on it.

  “You want me to wipe the blood off you?” Suzy stood and looked down at Jason. Taken aback by his pale face and shrunken eyes with dark circles. She stepped closer.

  “Blood?” he asked, shocked. “What blood?”

  “Take a look.” Russ handed him a small mirror, he took from a utility drawer next to the fridge. He turned back, pulled a glass from a cabinet, and filled it from the tap while Jason examined his face. Russ’s hand shook when he set the drink in front of him.

  Jason took the towel from Suzy and ran the soapy end over his face and ears; then used the dry end to clear away the soap. He set the towel down in front of him.

  “It was an attack.” Jason picked up the glass. “Patti was under attack.” He gulped the whole glass; then got to his feet, grabbed the towel, and shuffled to the counter where he set both down. He arched his back. His bones cracked. Through the window the Wyatt backyard looked the same with the trees, garden, and picnic table. How could that be? Nothing would ever be as it was. Weariness took hold of him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head.

  “Oh, Jeez,” worried Russ with his hands flat on the table; he leaned forward. “Attack from what, from who?”

  “Well,” said Jason after a moment, “it looks like I am not the only one who can do what I do.” Jason raised his head and stared out of the window. A summer breeze gently swayed the trees. He reached over the sink, unlatched the window, and raised it. The clean, warm air brushed by his face. It felt good. He breathed deep. “I guess some of those people are not very good.”

  “You mean dangerous,” stated Suzy, scared.

  “Yeah, very dangerous and very strong.” Jason ran his hand through his hair and wondered what he should do. He turned around and leaned back against the counter.

  “When I entered her mind it was like hammers pounding. The force and pain were more than a child could survive. I threw up a shield construct.” He grinned for a second; he remembered Russ’s Fantastic Four comic. “That’s when she stopped screaming.” He closed his eyes, shuddered, and remembered the pain. “Then the force of the attack doubled. The only way to save Patti was to throw myself in the way.” He shoo
k his head and remained silent. Suzy and Russ watched him intently and waited. The room tensed. After a time he continued. “I could do nothing. I had to take it, blow after blow. It was like…like getting in the way of an oncoming car to protect a little kid who stepped into the street. But the driver kept backing up and trying again. It was attempted murder. I’m lucky I made it through.” He came back to the table and sat down.

  “For now, it’s all fixed… but at a price.” Jason shook his head slowly. He felt horrible. It was the only thing he could think to do. “She had to look dead.”

  “What?“ Russ’s lower jaw dropped as his hands curled into fists.

  “I had to wipe part of her memory, Russ. I had to take away that part of her that does the mind stuff.” He paused to collect his thoughts.

  “If I stayed in her mind, she was safe. But… I couldn’t do that forever.” Jason looked at Russ for understanding. Russ did not register that he got it. “Her talents, like mine, made this attack hurt her. Regular people don’t feel anything. People like me with these abilities only get a headache because we protect ourselves. Patti’s too young and couldn’t do that.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Why her? They musta known it was just a kid. Right?” Russ felt confused. He watched Jason carefully.

  “I don’t know, Russ.” Jason looked away afraid of the implications in his friend’s question.

  “Then,” continued Russ, “how come they came here?”

  “I believe it had something to do with what I did to help that old lady. ’Course, I’m not sure.” Jason folded his arms. “I picked up a few hints.”

  “Like what! What has happened to my sister! Did you help her or not!” Russ’s anger, born of fear, rushed out. He could not comprehend what Jason said. “Tell me what happened!”

  “Let’s all calm down,” said Suzy. She laid her hand on Russ’s arm and looked at Jason “Jason came to help.”