The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point (13 page)

“No,” Sam was cold and annoyed.

“Are you sure?” Ceil asked. “Should I
come to your house? Would you like for me to talk with your mother? You need to
make up your mind. We have to go somewhere. It’s getting colder out here. What
do you want me to do? Please make a decision.”

Sam was embarrassed and began crying
again. “I wanted the paints.”

“I understand that you’re disappointed.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to have to go
home and face your mother.”

“When I grow up I’m going to banish the
word
unfortunately
from my life, forever.”

“In a perfect world that would be a
good thing.”

“I’ve asked three times. I think
repeatedly refusing my request is abusive.”

“Not giving you what you wanted as a
gift on a special occasion does not fall under the category of child abuse. If
there’s a reason that you shouldn’t go home, I can get help for you. Otherwise,
you need to go home and straighten things out with your mom. I don’t know your
mother, but my guess is that sooner is probably the better choice in this
instance.” Ceil looked at the children and waited for a response. Neither of
them said a word.

“Come on, it’s time to go home. I don’t
know how you can stand it out here without a proper coat. I’m freezing.”

Sam leaned next to her brother, “I hate
being twelve.”

Ceil shrugged her shoulders and shook
her head, “You’re allowed to be the age that you are.” Neither child moved.
“You’re welcome to come back and visit my tree house another time. It’s been a
long time since this place had visitors.”

“Thank you,” Sam said quietly. Steuart
nodded.

“It’s a wonderful place for a
twelve-year-old and a ten-year-old too, but only in the right weather. This is
not a good time.”

“How do you know I’m ten?” Steuart
asked.

“Lucky guess. Come up to the house and
say hello if I’m here. Right now—you have to go. Can I walk with you?”
Ceil stood with her lantern, held out her hand and reached down to help.

“We know the way,” Sam said. She looked
at Steuart and shrugged, “I don’t know what else to do.”

Steuart looked at Ceil and nodded,
“We’ll go now.”

“Let me share my lantern. Here, let’s
step down. Be careful. Watch for ice.”

Ceil looked at Sam, “I’m sorry that
your day was a disappointment. Better days are ahead.”

“I don’t want to go,” Sam said.

“I understand that, but you have to. This
tree house is closed for tonight.”

Sam and Steuart thanked Ceil for the
lantern and began walking home. Ceil followed behind in the distance.

SIX

The
following week Sam and Steuart sat on either side of their mother in the office
of Harry Klesel, M.D. for an initial consultation and evaluation.
“I need you to help repair my
children,” Olivia explained, “because they—along with ten of my favorite
crystal pieces—are broken.”

The doctor listened. Steuart and Sam
sat quietly; afraid, embarrassed and humiliated as their mother went on about
their intolerable actions. Sam looked at her feet and wiggled her toes. She
avoided making eye contact. Looking at the doctor’s colorful rug she wondered,
Can he read my mind?

Steuart spent his time counting books
and playing word games in his head. He thought of a list of anagrams using the
word
psychiatrist
. His favorites were:
this tipsy car, chair typists, thirsty
aspic,
spits charity,
city harpists
and
sir, it’s patchy.

“
Rat
physicist
,” Steuart said aloud.

“What was that?” Dr. Klesel looked at Steuart.

“Nothing. I’m sorry sir. I was just….”
Steuart’s voice trailed off to a whisper.

The children tried ignoring the
situation. Unfortunately, neither of their activities drowned out the sound of
their mother’s voice.

Wound up and angry, Olivia cried. Dr.
Klesel looked at Steuart and pointed to a box of tissues. Steuart reached for
the box and handed it to his mother. She took a tissue, wiped her tears and
then handed the box to her son. He placed it on the table.

“Dr. Klesel, my children are badly broken.
They are sitting here like two little angels who have never done a single thing
wrong in their short lives, but you’re not seeing their true personalities.”

“Broken is a strong word.”

“You’re not seeing them.”

“What am I seeing?”

“I am a good mother. That’s why we’re
here … because you need to repair the situation. I am hoping and praying that
you can do this. I am at a loss…”

“Meaning?”

“I waited a long time for Samantha Leigh
and Steuart James to arrive. We were on the waiting list with Family Charities
for over five years before Samantha Leigh—two more for Steuart James. The
only reason we got him when we did is because the people next in line had a big
legal issue and had to drop off. I have made these children the center of my
world since before they were mine.”

Dr. Klesel held a brown clipboard and
made notes. He nodded as Olivia continued. “These children have been given the
absolute best of everything. They have every advantage.”

“Specifically?”

“It would be easier to tell you what
they don’t have.”

“What’s that?”

“They don’t have a pony. Other than
that, they pretty much have everything else. I provided them with the most beautiful
nurseries in Atchison Point. Everything matched perfectly. I provided them with
the best toys and educational supplies. I’ve kept them healthy. I’ve kept them
clean. I’ve kept them safe. I’ve kept them perfectly groomed at all times.” Olivia
nodded, “Good grooming is paramount. These advantages, quite simply, have been
given to them because I have seen to everything and I have done this as a
single parent. Most importantly, I have always made sure that they behave
properly.”

The doctor nodded.

“Everything was considered carefully.
We gave them solid, substantial names. We wanted them to have a good start. Steuart
James was named after my great-great-grandfather Congressman James Lewis
Steuart. Samantha Leigh was named after my great aunt, the first female bank
president in our state.”

“Strong names.”

“Exactly.” Olivia took a deep breath before
continuing. “When Samantha Leigh and Steuart James were little, I made all of
their clothing by hand. If a single stitch was not perfect, even on the
underside, I ripped it out and began again. Do you have any idea how much time
it takes to create a French hand-sewn garment?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“I’m not talking about throwing
something together the way most people do when they sew. What I am talking
about is the delicate precision of hand sewing the finest garments using only
the highest quality fabrics, threads, and trims. All of this work, and now we
are here. It’s embarrassing.” Olivia sobbed, “Can you teach them how to act
properly?”

“How are children supposed to act?”

“They’re supposed to behave and follow
the rules. How difficult is that?”

Dr. Klesel raised an eyebrow and
continued to make notes.

“I had no way of knowing when we
adopted Samantha Leigh and Steuart James that the three of us would be deserted
before Steuart’s second birthday. I was young. I had no idea that I would find
myself a single mother trying to raise them on my own.” Again, Olivia cried.
Steuart reached for the tissue box and handed it to his mother. She took a
tissue, wiped her tears and handed Steuart the box. He placed it on the table.

“This is not easy.” She looked at each
child, and then paused for a moment before starting again, “Especially when you
have rescued children from…” Olivia cleared her throat, took a deep breath, looked
away and continued talking as if her children were not in the room. She whispered,
“…especially when you have rescued them from God only knows what.” She cleared
her throat, smiled and looked nervously at Steuart. She took a deep breath,
frowned and looked at Sam.

“I cannot believe the way these two
have been behaving since we moved to Maybell. I know little about their true
backgrounds if you understand what I mean.” Olivia raised her left eyebrow and
frowned again. She shook her head and continued in a deliberate voice before
breaking into sobs. “I should have known better. This is not what I planned.
This is certainly not what I expected. I’d like to know why these things always
happen to me?”

“What things?” the doctor asked.

Olivia shook her head in distress. Dr.
Klesel looked at the tissues. Steuart reached for the box and handed it to his
mother. She took a tissue, wiped her tears and once again returned it to her
son. He placed the box on the table.

“There is nothing I can do about
biology,” Olivia said.

“Do you believe...?”

Olivia interrupted, “I do the best I
can in all situations. Believe me, I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong here.”

“Is someone suggesting that you’re done
something wrong?”

“Of course not, why do you ask that?
You hear me, but it appears that you’re not listening. I’m more than a good
parent. I’m a great parent, but that doesn’t matter. No matter what I do, or how
hard I try, this is what I end up with.” She turned, looked at both of the
children and then back at Dr. Klesel. She spelled the word in a soft, but
distinctive whisper, “b-r-o-k-e-n. Do you understand?”

“Please try to be less provocative.”

Olivia nodded.

“What do you want me to understand?”

“Fill in the blank, repair, I said.”

Dr. Klesel looked puzzled.

“Beyond fill in the blank,” Olivia
threw her hands in the air. “How can I tell you if you won’t allow me to tell
you? This is frustrating.”

“What?” Steuart asked.

“Quiet Steuart. It’s Mother’s turn to
talk.” Olivia let out a sigh, opened her arms and nodded, “See?”

Dr. Klesel made notes. He looked up at Olivia.

“I asked for them. I am responsible. I
wanted children. I did. They’re my responsibility and I do not take my
responsibilities lightly. No. I’m not ready to give up—yet.” Once more,
she turned left, and then right, this time looking at each of the children
sternly before turning back to the doctor. “Something has to be done.” She put
her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. “Can you help me? Samantha
Leigh and Steuart James are completely out of control.” Olivia cried. Steuart
reached for the tissue box. He handed it to his mother. She took a tissue and
wiped her eyes. She handed the box to Steuart who, this time, decided to hold
the box ready.

Looking over the top of his glasses Dr.
Klesel asked, “Ms. DuBoise, what are you looking for me to do for you?”

Steuart had a sudden vision of his
mother jumping up and going for the doctor’s neck, ripping him from his chair, throwing
him against the floor and screaming loud enough to crack the windows throughout
the building.

Instead, Olivia raised her voice, “I
keep telling you—fix my children. F-i-x. Are you not listening?”

“I’m listening.”

Steuart handed Olivia the tissue box.
She took a tissue and wiped her tears. She handed the box to Steuart. This time
he refused. She handed the box to Sam. Sam held the box ready.

The room became quiet. Dr. Klesel
looked at Olivia. He leaned forward, looked at the children and nodded. “I
think this would be a good time for me to take a few private minutes with Sam
and Steuart.”

“No,” Olivia responded. “Absolutely
not,” she shook her head. “I disagree. It’s too early. This is our first
session. I’m not comfortable with that idea.”

Dr. Klesel nodded and leaned back in
his chair. He looked at the children and asked each of them a question. Neither
Sam, nor Steuart found an opportunity to speak as their mother monopolized the
appointment. She talked, she whined and she cried. She told the story about the
white gloves and the handbook. She talked about Steuart’s behavior on the day
of the move. She talked about Sam’s unacceptable behavior on her special day and
about how Steuart joined the mutiny. Tears flowed. Sam handed Olivia the tissue
box. She took a tissue and handed the box to her daughter. Sam refused. Olivia held
the box and whined, “This is what I go through daily with my children. I cannot
even depend on them for something as simple as a facial tissue.”

“They’re children,” the doctor
responded. “This is more than a tissue issue.”

Olivia put her head in her hands
repeatedly; her elbows on either side of the tissue box and asked several more
times, “Why do these things always happen to me?”