The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point

by Mike Hopper

  “Steuart—Steuart James DuBoise,” Olivia yanked her son into reality. She had just called him by all three names. No doubt, he was done for.

  “Ma’am?” His voice was barely audible.

  “Are you listening to me? Steuart James, are you listening—are you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m listening.” He felt pain in his heart as he prayed for the ability to travel through time and leave this moment forever. He reached behind his back and readied to hand over the envelope. Prepared to accept his fate, Steuart looked up at his mother and stood tall.

  Olivia stared at Steuart.

  “Stay out of the cookies.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you dare what me, mister. You know better than that. I don’t care how late it is or how tired you are. You know how to behave. And if you can’t be appropriate, be quiet—I’ll tell you what to do. Your grandmother lets you get away with too much. When I get you to Maybell we’re going to have a long discussion about manners and proper behavior.”

  Steuart looked off in the distance. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  “What should you have said?”

  “Ma’am, I should have said ma’am.”

  “That’s better. Remember, exhaustion is never an excuse for being rude or disrespectful. Did you hear what I said to you?”

  Steuart nodded and whispered softly, “Same yam.”

  “I said stay out of the cookies.”

  “Yes ma’am, stay out of the cookies.”

  Olivia turned and walked up the stairs. Steuart didn’t budge. He stood in the same spot and silently counted until he heard his mother’s bedroom door open and close. He imagined jumping from the ambulance, running into his mother’s arms, and offering forgiveness. It’s okay, Mother. You can’t help yourself.

  Relieved, Steuart sighed as he continued leaning against the wall.

  Several minutes later, and certain that his mother was not about to return, he left the stairs and walked into the kitchen. He pulled the step stool from the pantry and carefully carried it across the floor. He placed the stool next to the cabinet and shelves before climbing up and putting his knees onto the counter. He took a short, clear glass from the shelf and set it onto the countertop as he stepped down to open the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of milk, stepped back up and poured his glass—half full. He closed the milk jug, stepped down and returned it to the refrigerator, moved the stool back into the pantry, closed the door and walked partially out of the kitchen before turning around and going back.

  Quietly, Steuart placed his milk onto the counter, opened the pantry and this time carried the stool to the opposite side of the kitchen where he stepped up, reached for the paper towels and tore off a square. He laid it on the counter and gently pressed it flat with both hands before reaching across for the cookie jar and silently helping himself to just one cookie. Using extra caution, Steuart avoided leaving crumbs on the counter. With his glass in one hand, cookie and paper towel in the other, he stepped down and tiptoed up the stairs with the envelope in his pants.

  Back in his room, Steuart laid his milk and cookie on the nightstand, removed the envelope from his pants and placed it on his pillow. He walked to the door, closed and carefully locked it before climbing back into bed where he reached into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a tiny red flashlight. Comfortably munching his cookie and sipping his milk, Steuart paused briefly to consider another story.

  This time he became a grown man and a great politician. He had both the power and wealth allowing him to purchase Point Taken—the grand old antebellum house which belonged to his grandmother—the place he called home. Immediately, he appointed his mother as the Right, Good, and Appropriate Global Ambassador—a lifetime position.

  Olivia traveled from town to town as an official representative, knocking on doors and meeting everyone. She had the mundane and arduous task of querying each individual as she compiled a worldwide birthday wish list. This information was entered into a central database that fed back to Steuart’s main office where a staff worked diligently processing requests twenty-four hours a day.

  Olivia’s job kept her busy enough with little time to do anything other than work. She stayed in contact with the family through weekly mail and visited home once or twice each year. Steuart lived out his days with Ida, Sam, Frank, Caffey and their four new Old English Sheepdogs; Bear, Pal, Buddy and Sis. Life was perfect.

  The cookie was gone. Steuart took one last sip of milk. “It’s time,” he said, preparing for the information. He raised and lowered his eyebrows several times. He looked at the envelope, smelled the thing and examined it from both sides using his flashlight. Carefully, he opened the back flap, reached inside and pulled out a card. It was heavy and flat. Printed on the front in black ink was a name: Laurel Ivy Hood. He flipped the card. It was blank. “Blank,” he whispered. Disappointed, Steuart wondered, who is this person? Why was she arguing with my Mother? He checked the envelope to make sure he hadn’t missed something important. He looked at the card once more and then closed his eyes. Steuart sighed, “All this work for nothing.” He held the card in his hands, curled up next to Sparky, and yawned. Justly muck. Steuart finally slept.

  THREE

  The following morning Sam, Steuart, Ida, and Olivia watched as workers quickly loaded boxes and a few items into a large moving van. The truck was ready right away. “Why aren’t we taking our furniture?” Steuart asked his mother.

  “Because we have all new furniture waiting for us at our wonderful new house. Isn’t that fabulous?”

  “Why do we need new furniture? I want my furniture. I want my things. Why did we need such a big truck if we’re not taking our furniture?”

  “It’s not our furniture. It belongs to your grandmother.”

  “I want my furniture.”

  “I just told you that it’s not our furniture.”

  “You’re making us leave our home. You can at least let us take our furniture.”

  “Our home is waiting for us in Maybell with our new furniture.”

  “I don’t want to go to that stupid place. I want my bed. I want my chair. I want my desk. I want my room.”

  “Steuart,” Olivia shook her head, “That is not possible. We are moving. We are moving into a new house, and we are going to have all new furniture. It will be beautiful.”

  “Why the giant truck?”

  “We’re not the only people moving.”

  “I want my things.”

  “Do you have any idea how spoiled you’re sounding?”

  “I’m not spoiled.”

  “You want to leave your grandmother without furniture. That sounds spoiled and selfish to me. We cannot leave your grandmother without furniture. That would be an awful thing to do.”

  “That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.” Steuart turned to Ida, “I don’t want your things Grandmother. I want my things. Grandmother, you understand, don’t you?”

  Ida nodded. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  “It’s not okay.” Steuart turned back to his mother. “Not okay. I want my bed. I won’t be able to sleep without my bed. I want my action figures too.”

  “Then it’s a good thing,” Olivia said, “that your wants won’t cause you pain.”

  “I want to stay here. Yo ma ye uh tormentor.”

  “Cut the crap Steuart. We don’t have time for your games.”

  “It’s hamster flout!”

  “Save your anagrams for later. We’re finished with this discussion. Now take a final look around and do whatever you need to do. I’m giving you both thirty minutes, not a minute more…” Olivia glanced at her watch, “beginning now.”

  Sam, Steuart, Ida and the pups walked towards the water for a good-bye stroll on the pier.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Sam said, hugging her grandmother. She lifted Frank into her arms.

  Steuart, carrying Caffey on his back, leaned next to Ida and mumbled something unde
r his breath. He felt tears in his eyes and turned away.

  Ida bent down and looked at her grandson, “You can do this,” she said. “We both know you are every bit as strong as any super hero.”

  “I hate this. I hate her,” Steuart whispered. “I want to stay with you. This is our home. Make her let us stay with you. Please, please, Grandmother, don’t let her take us to that awful place. I hate her.”

  Ida put her hands on Steuart’s shoulders, “Look at me. Listen to me carefully. You do not hate anyone or anything. Hate is a strong, ugly word. It destroys people. Every minute you spend in anger is a minute of your life that is forever gone. It’s wasted time that you cannot live again. Do not let anger rule your life, Steuart. It’s not worth it. Focus on the positive things. Everything will be fine.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “I know that, but you can do this. I know this because you are exactly like my daddy. Now, please look at me. Answer my question. Can you do this?” Ida looked at Steuart and waited for his answer.

  Steuart looked down at his feet. “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Are you sure-as-Matt?” Ida asked.

  A smile grew wide across Steuart’s face. Sam joined the two for a group hug. “Yes, we’re both sure-as-Matt,” the children agreed.

  “That’s all I needed to hear.”

  Sure-as-Matt was the strongest promise made in Ida’s family. Matt Prescott, Ida’s father, was known throughout the county as a man of his word. “You’re both going to be fine,” Ida said. “I have faith in you.” She looked at her watch, “I hate to say this, but it’s time to go. Now, before we walk up to the house, I need to see smiles.”

  The children frowned.

  “Smiles please. We’ll talk often,” Ida hugged the children as they walked towards the house.

  “It’s not the same,” Steuart said.

  “We’ll send messages. I write beautiful letters. We’ll find time to visit. I’ll come see you, and you will come see me. I promise. I’ve already asked your mother to bring you down in December.”

  “It’s too far,” Steuart said.

  Ida looked at Steuart and then at Sam. “Let’s adjust our attitudes. It’s going to be okay.”

  “It isn’t the same as living together.”

  Olivia stood next to the car. She waited with the doors open. She looked at Steuart and frowned, “Put that nasty dog down, now. It’s time for us to be on the road. I have no desire to drive my car one thousand miles with you sitting in the back seat smelling like a wet, sweaty dog. Honestly, do you ever think about making use of the brain God gave you? Sometimes I can’t help wondering if you took it out one day and left it on a rock. Is that what happened?”

  “I’m sorry Mother.”

  “Steuart, if we were not in a rush, I’d stop right this minute and send you inside for a proper shower.”

  “No problem, I can take a shower.” Steuart took Caffey from his shoulders and handed her to Ida. “I won’t be long.” He turned and began running towards the house.

  “Stop Steuart. You will do no such thing. Turn around now. Come back here. We’ll let the windows down so you can air out. Come on now, get in.”

  “Wait!” Steuart insisted.

  “What now?”

  “I forgot my valise! I have to go back. Come with me Sam. I left it on the pier. We’ll be right back.”

  “Hurry,” Olivia called out. “We need to get on the road.”

  Running towards the pier Steuart outlined his plan. “This is our chance. Let’s run away before it’ too late. We’ll find a boat. We can sail off to the Galapagos. They won’t find us. Let’s do it!”

  “Oh, would that we could. The wind is perfect.”

  “I wish the pirates would arrive this very minute,” Steuart shouted. “I’d point to Mother and say she’s ready fellows. Take her away.”

  “Where are good pirates when we need them?”

  * * *

  Ida’s voice cracked as she spoke with her daughter. “Olivia, you don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do. “She pulled away and nodded. “Some people actually work for a living.”

  Ida shook her head, “Stop trying to play games with me. I am not a fool. I understand you very well. You’re going. You’ve made up your mind. That is that, and I understand this is going to happen. What I do not understand is why you’re determined to continue creating chaos in our lives. I refuse to stand here and listen to you tell me this is a career move. We both know this is about something much bigger than a job.”

  “We know no such thing. You just want this to be about other things. You are the one who insists on creating chaos in our lives. Listen to me. My career is the only reason for this move. There is no other reason. The time has arrived for me to put myself first.”

  “Seems to me that looking out for self has never been your problem.”

  “Mother, I respectfully disagree.”

  Ida shook her head. “I do not approve of what you’re doing, but this isn’t my call. I only wish you would consider the children. You’ve intentionally kept them from their father. This is the only home either of them remembers. They’re happy here—happy, safe, and secure. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? They need the stability.”

  “It’s always about someone else, isn’t it?” Olivia glared at her mother.

  “I guess we could ask your late night visitor.”

  “You have no right to say that to me,” Olivia looked for the children and shouted, “Steuart James, Samantha Leigh, we have to go—now.”

  Ida bit her lip. She watched as Steuart and Sam walked slowly towards the car. Steuart put his arms around Ida. “Grandmother will you be okay?”

  “Don’t waste your worry on me,” Ida said. “I’ll be fine as long as I know the two of you are keeping your promises. Make this time count for something great. Follow your words and colors. Whatever you put into this is what you’ll get out. Enjoy your adventures. Most of all, sweet babies, be happy.”

  “Voile You.” Steuart hugged Ida.

  “And I love you too.”

  Sam reached out and held her grandmother’s hand. “Are you sure Grandmother?”

  Ida stood tall, held her tears, and looked at Sam. “Yes sweetheart, I am. I am sure-as-Matt.” She gave both children one final hug as they got into the car. “You have no idea how much excitement awaits you. The Midwest is beautiful, especially now. You’re going to have incredible adventures. Put your best foot forward every day.” She looked at Olivia, “Take care of yourself and take care of our babies.”

  Olivia nodded. She started the car and pulled out the winding drive as Ida stood in front of the house and waved.

  * * *

  Olivia drove up the road making her way towards the main highway.

  “Nothing is better than living on a road where the houses have names,” Steuart said, “and the names have a point.” Staring out the window, he watched houses and began reading aloud, “Beside the Point, Point Lost, What’s Your Point, What’s the Point, Point of View, Point of it All, The Pointers…”

  Sam joined her brother, “Pointless, Pointed, Last Point, Resting Point, Point of Reason, Old Point, Victory Point…”

  “Match Point, Final Point, To the Point…” Steuart spoke through his tears. “Mother, you’re being unfair. This is not fair.”

  “Who needs fair? Fair is where people wait in long lines to pay outrageous prices for cheap thrills and fried butter.”

  “You’re making my life completely miserable.”

  “Then I’m doing my job.”

  “What?”

  “I’m doing you a disservice if I make your life easy. I don’t want you to become a hopeless cripple.”

  “We’d like to stay here with Grandmother,” Sam said.

  “You’re a hateful and mean mother,” Steuart shouted. “We’ll never, ever, forget this not even if we both live to be one thousand and twenty-six years old.”

  “Cut it out, Steuart.
Don’t say things you’re certain to regret.” Olivia looked at her children in the rearview mirror. Right, Good and Appropriate encourages growth. It is sensible and healthy to try new things. We’re trying something new. You will adjust.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “Everything will be fine. You’re upset because you’re too young to understand these things. You’ll get over it and then you’ll feel bad for being so cruel to your dear, sweet mother. Straighten up now and behave. We have a long way to go.

  “What about your dear, sweet mother? What about her?”

  “I’ve had enough of this bad behavior,” Olivia snapped. “This is going to stop. Your grandmother is sixty-two years old. She has lived her life. Now, it’s time for us to live ours.”

  Sam’s jaw dropped.

  Steuart slammed his fist against the back seat. “I need my grandmother. Turn this car around. I want to go home!”

  “That’s enough. Don’t make me pull over and stop.”

  Steuart frowned. He took a deep breath, “Who’s Laurel Ivy Hood? Did you take something that belongs to her?”

  Olivia pulled onto the highway, “I’m not interested in your games. Settle in now. We’re playing the quiet game. I don’t want to hear another word.”

  Sam looked at Steuart and whispered, “We forgot Point Taken.”

  FOUR

  Three miles less than one thousand, veering slightly northeast, driveway-to-driveway, sat the new house. After two days on the road, Steuart, Sam and their mother reached Maybell in time for brunch.

  The late September move was a colorful surprise for two children who had never experienced the wonders of autumn. The city was ablaze with fall color. Maybell was beautiful. Olivia was correct. Sam and Steuart were stunned by the beauty of the season. However, it was Sam who found the colors most captivating. Everywhere she looked there were new colors to add to her collection. “Grandmother knew,” she whispered. “This must be what she was talking about.”

  Walking inside, the children found a new house that was furniture store perfect; everything matched with a Sunday flier sort of feel. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Olivia exclaimed. This was in contrast to Ida’s house, which felt more like a long loved, well worn, often read novel. The new house was pretty, but it wasn’t Point Taken. It felt cold, impersonal, and lacked character.