The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point (23 page)

Olivia shook her head.

“The encouraging news is that parents
can be trained.”

“Oh, great. Here we go again. I don’t
know what you’re getting at. I continue to tell you that I do not need training.
I do not need to be taught how to be a good parent. I am a good parent. You
talk about training. You want to teach me things that I already know. For some
incomprehensible reason you not only refuse to prescribe medications for my
children, but you also think that dolls are the answer to our problems. I don’t
get it.”

“What’s confusing you?”

“Dolls—dolls are confusing me.
Dolls are not going to fix our problems. I don’t understand why you encourage
my children to play with those ridiculous things.” Olivia pointed to her chest,
“It’s my responsibility as their only participating parent to choose the toys
that my children play with. Why do you continue wasting my valuable time and
money with dolls?”

“You’ve not been charged for the dolls.
You know that. I’d like to know why you find the dolls so repulsive.”

Olivia stared towards the door.

“If you were here more frequently, we
could talk about this in greater depth. These are issues that we need to
address and explore.”

“They’re repulsive.”

“What do you find repulsive? Why are
you so focused on the dolls?” Dr. Klesel stared at Olivia, “What is it about
them that upsets you?”

“I’m not upset. I don’t like them. Is
there a written rule that says I have to like everything?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“So, I do not like the dolls. That’s it.
I don’t like them.”

“Why don’t you want your children to
have relationships with anyone other than you?”

“What? Where did that come from?”

Dr. Klesel reached for the water bottle
on his side table. “It appears that you may not want your children to have
relationships with anyone other than you.” He unscrewed the cap and took a sip.

“Who
are
you? Where do you get off saying these sorts of things to me?
Of course I want my children interacting with people. We’re not talking about
people. We’re not talking about relationships. We’re talking about stupid,
dirty, disgusting, nasty toys. Toys and people are not the same thing. How do
you make the leap?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“I am not upset!” Olivia balled her
fist and began to shake as she put it against her teeth and bit down. “I’m
asking that you do something other than provide toys for my children—toys
that I do not find appropriate, or stimulating.”

“Why do you feel so strongly about the
dolls?”

“I don’t know.”

Dr. Klesel waited.

“I don’t like them.” Olivia looked
away.

“What do you dislike about them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your reaction seems a bit intense not
to know.”

“I don’t like them.”

“If you knew, what might it be?”

“That is a ridiculous question.”

“Not when you’re blocking—I think
you know.”

“I don’t.”

“Olivia, the dolls allow your children
an opportunity to practice relationships with others. They need the experience.
This is safe and healthy for them.”

“I can teach my children how to behave.
I can teach them how to interact with others. They do not need dolls for that.
My handbook teaches everything they need to know about functioning properly in
our society.”

“Handbooks don’t provide practical
experience. The dolls provide Samantha and Steuart with an opportunity to play,
practice, and apply ideas. They need this.” Dr. Klesel took another sip of
water, looked at Olivia and asked, “Don’t you want your children to have
relationships with people other than you?”

“Dr. Klesel, you are insulting me.”
Olivia looked at her feet, “Of course I do.”

“Then, what is your problem with the
dolls?”

There was a long silence before he
repeated his question, “What is your problem with the dolls?”

“I don’t like them.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “You don’t like
them. Tell me the first thing that comes to mind. What exactly do you dislike?”

“I, I, I,” Olivia stuttered. “They’re extremely
unattractive.”

“What else?”

“They look rough around the edges. The
workmanship is poor. I prefer handmade items that are perfectly crafted, finely
crafted. I want my children to be exposed to fine quality. Perfection is our
goal in all that we do. We are intended to strive for perfection.”

“Who defines perfection?”

“
Right,
Good and Appropriate
. It’s all there. You should read it. When I create
something for my children, I make sure that everything is perfectly matched and
perfectly stitched. I’ve told you all of this before. If I make something and
it is not one hundred percent right, I will take it apart and begin again. I do
not take it partially apart—I am telling you that I take it completely
apart. I handle everything in my life the same way whether I’m at home or at
work. No matter what I’m doing, I continue until I have an end product that is
perfect.”

“This is a recurring theme with you.”

Olivia nodded.

“It’s very important?”

“Certainly,” Olivia relaxed. “I believe
it is impossible to live life properly unless one follows all the rules. We get
one shot at this. There is no room for error. Perfection is my personal
benchmark. It dictates everything that I attempt. If I take on a responsibility,
or accept an assignment, I do it only after I am certain that I can do it
correctly. I’m doing my best to pass this philosophy along to my children. Those
dolls are an insult to my value system and to all the things I hold dear. There
is nothing uniform about the dolls.”

“Life is not uniform. People are not
perfect.”

“Of course, I know that, but these
dolls are beyond imperfect.”

“What do you mean?”

“They remind me of something my mother
would make.”

“What about your mother?”

Olivia stiffened, “We’re not going to
talk about my mother today.” She shook her head, “No, I’m not going there.”

“Why not?”

“You are not about to make this all
about me. I know where you’re heading.”

“Where’s that?”

“This is an attempt to pressure me into
scheduling extra appointments.” She raised her voice, “Listen to me. Hear what
I am saying to you. I am not here to pay for your new sports car, nor am I here
to finance your next exotic vacation. I am here because of my dear, troubled,
children. I am here because I want you to help them.” She looked towards the
clock, “Is our time up?”

“We have a few more minutes.”

“I say it is. Dr. Klesel, our time is
up for today.”

* * *

Trista was napping comfortably on Sam’s
bed when Olivia burst into the room. “I’m going to have a talk with that girl.”
Olivia turned off Sam’s bedside lamp. “Maybe I should insist she pay for
electricity.” Ed sat on the windowsill watching the snowfall. Olivia watched
Trista, “Dr. Klesel may be brilliant, but he has no idea what he’s talking
about as far as you go. I know what you are, but I don’t understand what he’s
trying to do. Doll therapy is a joke. How dare he suggest that I have issues
with my mother.” Olivia picked Trista up, waved her around and then pulled her
in close. “That man has no idea with whom he is dealing.”

Olivia stared at Trista. “You are,
without question, the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life and you do look
like some pathetic piece of garbage that my mother would throw together.” She
dropped Trista onto the bed. Trista didn’t move. “Why does he want my children
to have dolls like you? How can you make anything better? I have a child in the
hospital with a broken arm. You stupid dolls did nothing to keep that from
happening.
Practice relationships with
dolls
? The last thing they need is to practice relationships with trash.
You should be locked away.” Olivia looked at Trista, “
ick
.” She reached down, picked the doll up again and squeezed
tightly before drawing back, and, with full range of motion, throwing her into
the bathroom. Trista hit the tile and screamed on impact. Olivia stood shocked.

Ed sat helplessly as Olivia rushed into
the bathroom. Trista’s head was crushed—the entire left side of her skull
was broken. Olivia sank to the floor, “What have I done now?” She looked at the
mess, “I broke you stupid doll. I was correct about your crappy construction.”
She took a deep breath, “My daughter will be a wreck.” Olivia began picking up
the pieces, “I can do this. I’ll repair you.” She studied the mess. “No, I
can’t. Mother could do this.” Ed sat stunned.

“Pull yourself together,” Olivia lectured
herself. “You’re upset and emotional because of Steuart’s accident. I can’t
believe that I did this. What’s wrong with me?” She sat on Sam’s bed and stopped
herself as she began to cry. She took another deep breath and began again.
“Pull yourself together. This was an accident. You didn’t do it on purpose. Who
are you kidding?” She shook her head as she spoke to Trista, “This wasn’t my
fault.” She took a deep breath, stood in front of the bathroom mirror, pulled a
tissue from the box, and wiped her eyes. She studied her reflection. “Stupid
doll. This is about Steuart’s accident and your visit to Dr. Klesel.” She
looked down at Trista. “I think that man has a lot of nerve upsetting me on
such a stressful day. He should have been supportive. He put me in this frame
of mind. This is his fault—not mine. I’ll see to it that Samantha Leigh
understands. All I’ve done is make the world a neater and cleaner place.”

Olivia forced another deep breath,
turned sideways, and straightened her clothes. She straightened her hair. “It
was a doll of no value—a silly, useless, toy.” She checked her hair once
more, “What is Dr. Klesel going to say?” She checked her teeth, “Why do I even
care what he thinks? It serves him right. What would
Right, Good, and Appropriate
advise?” Olivia sighed, “It would tell
me that
I
am the mother in charge. Crap.
I hope Harry doesn’t try to charge me.” She picked at her teeth, “Just let him
try. I’ll have a word for him. I’ll fire him. It was a toy. It was an accident.
I don’t care what he says. He works for me. The point is that I can fire him
anytime I decide it’s in the best interest of my family. Maybe that’s what I
should do. Fire Dr. Klesel—it was just a doll.”

“She wasn’t just a doll,” Ed whispered
through his tears.

Olivia went into the kitchen and
returned with a dustpan and broom. She swept up the broken pieces and dropped
them into a plastic bag. She laid the bag on Sam’s dresser before leaving for
the hospital.

Ed wept.

* * *

Ceil
walked into Steuart’s hospital room. “Hey you, how are you feeling?”

“Ceil, I broke my arm. I had an
operation.”

“I know.”

“They put metal pens in my arm,”
Steuart pointed to the spot.

“That’s what I heard.”

“You knew? How did you know?”

“I ran into Mr. Felphul at the grocery
store. He told me about your accident. That must've been scary.”

“I don't know. It happened too fast.”

“How does it feel now?”

“It hurts bad sometimes, but not so
much. It’s already feeling better.”

“I brought you a surprise. I hope you
like it. I tried to find something extra special.” Ceil handed Steuart a wrapped
box that he quickly opened.

“Captain Crandall Comics! This is
great. He’s my favorite! Did you know that Captain Crandall is the greatest
superhero of all time?”

Ceil smiled, “I think I heard that
somewhere. You’ll let me read it when you’re finished?”

“Of course I will. I’ll be happy to
share. I’ll even read it to you if you like.”

“Perfect,” Ceil looked around the room.
“Where’s Sam? Where’s your mom? Are you here alone?”

“Mother had an appointment. She’ll be
back in a while. Sam’s here, but she’s off exploring.”

“That’s okay. You’re the person I came
to visit. I’m so sorry to hear about your accident.”

“Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your
fault.”

“Because you’re my friend and I never
like seeing bad things happen to the people I care about.”

After a while, Ceil stood up to leave,
“I’m sorry that I missed your mother and Sam. I’ll try to get back over here
tomorrow. Do you know when you’ll be going home?”

“Maybe tomorrow but they said it
depends….”

“On what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry about any of that. You
just need to concentrate on feeling better. Can I get anything for you before I
leave?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I think
I’m going to sleep for a while before I read my new comic books.”