Sound Mind and Sound Body
Chapter Three: Trying to be fine
"Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, riding through the night/Soon every lupin in the land will be in his mighty hand," Charles sang and signed the Monty Python song to his smiling brother as their father drove them in the car. "He steals from the rich and gives to the poor. Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore."
Will shook his head but laughed as he glanced at the road. "Charles, if you memorized your studies as well as you memorized every Python sketch, your teachers would recommend you for a Rhodes scholarship."
"Yeah but they're more fun," Charles groaned as he continued the song. He got many of the words mixed up in the signing and found that signing song lyrics wasn't near as easy as spoken words because of their speed, but he didn't think David really fully understood the meaning behind the signs yet anyway. He just seemed to like his brother's exaggerated facial expressions and the way that his fingers moved as he spoke. Like a hearing baby, David sort of understood but was still trying to put the meaning into words (or in his case gestures). Both his dad and the sign language teachers said that Charles was a natural for sign language because he had such an "expressive body anyway." He supposed that David picked up on that too. David laughed making small gestures with his infant fingers that seemed to convey, "Dada" and "Brother." "Is it like he's trying to say 'Da da?'" Charles once asked.
"I guess that's his way of doing it," Dad replied. "He doesn't quite get the hang of it yet, but he's beginning to use the signs on his own rather than just mimicking us."
Charles neared the end of the song as his dad turned the car towards the park. "He steals from the poor and gives to the rich. Stupid-"
"-I think that's enough," Will interrupted. "I rather your brother wait a few more years before he has to learn words like that hmm?"
"But I don't know words like that in sign language, Father," Charles said making his voice as innocent as he could sound. Charles then folded his hands and smiled so angelic a smile, that Will could almost imagine the heavenly choir and the beatific halo glowing over Charles' head, that is if he couldn't also picture the mischievous devil horns lurking underneath.
Will smirked. "Now I'm certain that was you or was it someone who looked like you during the end of the last class talking with those other kids your age and seem to be having quite a laugh?"
"We were just talking and signing," Charles offered.
"I find that hard to believe," Will replied.
" They were showing me that they knew how to sign certain words and I told them I know all the bad words in Swahili and Afrikaaner too," Charles reminded his father.
Will blushed as he parked remembering where his son learned them. He cleared his throat. "Here we are, let's get out and enjoy the day, boys." The father and sons emerged from the car as they gathered the pram, luncheon basket, and other items from the boot. It was a beautiful day, one of the few fine days of beautiful weather so there were many people out and about in the park enjoying their time. It was nice to get away on Will's day off and on a weekend so they could enjoy their time together.
David shifted in the pram moving his arms up and down in a forward motion. His father made a swinging movement with his hands and then gathered him up. "I'll take him on the swing for a bit, then we'll have a sit down alright?" Charles glanced at the ice cream van nearby. There was also something else or rather someone else that caught his eye; a tall blond girl in a cotton white tennis uniform. "Can I go get some ice cream?" he asked.
Will reached inside his wallet and pulled out a fiver. "Alright, go ahead," he told him. "Be back here soon, so we can have our lunch and don't overeat, right?"
Charles nodded in agreement and walked over to the van and the girl. He stood behind her and strutted in a way to appear cool and calm. Yes, that was him Charles Carton, Mr. Joe Cool. He snapped his fingers and tried to strut forward only succeeding in bumping into her.
"Uh, excuse me," he said.
The girl turned around. She was taller than him and already had a developed body. She glanced at Charles through her heart sunglasses. The young boy could see pink gloss on her lips. She smiled. "No, that's alright," she said. "You come here a lot?"
Charles was about to say something witty and charming like, "If I had I would have remembered someone as lovely as you," but he couldn't the only thing that he managed was a stammering, "Uh yes..uh Charles, my name is um Charles."
The girl smiled condescending. "Well, Charles my name is Violet." The line moved forward as Violet requested a small lemon cone.
This was the perfect time, Charles stepped up. "I'll pay for it," he offered.
Violet laughed as though Charles were a five year old doing something darling. "Oh, what a gentleman," Violet cooed. Charles ordered a chocolate and vanilla swirl for himself and paid for both his and the girl's selections. "So, Charles are you here all by yourself?" Violet asked.
Charles blushed, but tried once again to retain a cool demeanour. After all, how adult was it to tell her that he was alone? After this they could go anywhere! "Yeah," he said.
"Charles," Will called waving his hand forward. "I found a place to sit down. Do you want your coke in your Dr. Who thermos or do you want it in a cup?"
Charles blushed embarrassed. At almost 11 years old, the gawky boy knew one thing: being signaled out by your parents in front of a beautiful girl was not cool. However, the next thing that he did was even less cool. In the split second that he turned towards his father, Charles lowered his ice cream cone all over Violet's blouse. The young boy looked at the very large white and brown stain that smeared all over the once spotlessly white outfit.
"Uh, I'm sorry, that will come off in the dry cleaners won't it?" Charles laughed dryly but the girl's frozen but angry face told him that this was not a conversation that he should continue so Charles darted away from her and towards his father.
"You all right, son?" Will asked as he and Charles walked towards the picnic table.
"Yeah just great," Charles said bitterly, very embarrassed as he slumped towards the picnic table behind his father and baby brother.
After a few more minutes of eating and talking, Charles got over the monstrous embarrassment long enough to enjoy himself. He laughed and joked with his family as they ate their lunch and enjoyed the day. On days like this, Charles could almost forget his mother's absence, almost. She was still in the mental hospital undergoing treatments. Will visited her often once a week. He wouldn't say what went on in their meetings, but his long face and the almost tears in his eyes indicated to Charles that it was never good. At first Will tried to bring David with him, but apparently it made Emma more upset and reclusive, so he stopped bringing him and left him with Charles or Mrs. Becket, their new housekeeper, when he went to visit her. He allowed Charles to make his own mind whether he wanted to come or not, but Charles always refused. He just couldn't bring himself to see his Mum in the hospital and knowing that in his own small way he caused it. Every night, Charles gave a small prayer to God that his Mum would get better and come home. He would then whisper, "I'm sorry, mum," hoping that she would forgive him but the tears in her Mummy eyes combined with the sharp fists and slaps of the Mother hands would haunt him and he was never sure whether she would come home or even (and Charles felt guilty about this) whether he wanted her to or not.
Charles was broken from these somber thoughts by David's grunts and soft sighs. He then moved his little hands forward and back mimicking swinging. Will chuckled and sighed. "Swinging again?" he teased. "My goodness." He was about to get up and take him, when Charles held him by the hand.
"I'll take him, Dad," Charles offered. He looked around to see if Violet would be watching. He couldn't see her anywhere. Thankfully, she wouldn't see him doing something as daft as taking his baby brother on the swings.
"Alright, if you insist," Will said. He leaned back on his chair. Charles could see that his father's eyes were closing through the lenses of his sunglasses. Charles shrugged and wheeled the pram towards the swings.
While watching his son through his sunglasses, Will thought of the conversation that he had with Madge shortly after he hired Mrs. Becket. Since he and Madge started at the hospital about the same time, they had gotten to know each other rather well having a brother-sister relationship that consisted of friendly teasing banter, continual support, and the occasional heart-to-heart chat. The nurse listened as Will explained that Mrs. Becket was another student in the sign language class trying to learn to communicate with her granddaughter. She moved in with her daughter's family from Portsmouth and needed to earn some extra money so Will hired her to come in three times a week to keep house and look after the boys.
"Three times a week," Madge said. "Charles must be thrilled about the three days off from baby sitting."
Will shrugged. "Actually, he wasn't. Apparently, Mrs. Becket told me that he kept following her the first few days criticizing everything she did towards David. 'That formula isn't warm enough.' 'He's only supposed to get his teddy bear at nap times.' That sort of thing. He's let up though on that, thank goodness."
Madge nodded as the two walked through the hospital corridor. She chose her next words carefully. "Will, that's not normal with a kid is it?"
"Well, I always told Charles that he isn't a normal boy," Will joked lightly but he turned serious. "What are you driving at, Madge?"
The nurse thought. "Well when I asked my Winston to do anything, particularly with his brother, Marcus, he would usually sigh, pretend he hadn't heard me until his father or I put a few more decibels around it."
"Well I'll tell Charles then that since Madge is so concerned about him, the next time I ask him to do something he should be lazy about it then," he said. "Madge, he's 10 years old, he's had to go through a lot that would mature most kids. I suppose that he's had to grow up too fast. He's had to wear a lot on his shoulders so it isn't easy for him to hand responsibilty over to someone else."
"Are you sure that there isn't something deeper with him," Madge inquired. "Something more that's troubling him?"
"Besides the obvious of having a deaf brother and an unstable mother, I can't imagine what else could be troubling him," Will countered rather more sharply than he intended. Really he was getting tired of Madge's incessent questions, mostly because these were questions that he had been asking himself in his mind. "Madge, I make it a point not to worry about Charles if I don't have to. I have enough on my mind with David, and Emma, and my patients here, that the last thing that I need to be anxious about is my 10 year old son when there isn't any problem with him. He has been a great help to me. The only thing that is wrong with Charles is that he's had to endure too much in the past year and hiring some outside help should relieve that burden. Charles is fine." He repeated that to himself almost making it a mantra so he could convince himself. "Charles is fine."
Will broke from the memory as he watched his 10 year old son remove his little brother from the pram onto the swing like a parent who was well practiced in holding a fragile infant. "Charles is fine," Will said to himself hoping that it was true.
Charles strapped his brother in and made the gestures for "Baby" and "swing." Since they were so similar and there was almost a rhythm to it, Charles turned it into a song, "Swing, baby, swing baby." He continued to sing as he took David out of the pram and strapped him in the baby swing. David began smiling as soon as Charles strapped him and made his unusual baby sounds and odd laughter. He was so caught up in the song and motions of swinging his brother, that he didn't notice the three larger boys watching him and mimicking his movements.
"Hey Mum," one of the boys snickered. "Are you pushing the babe?" The other two laughed.
Charles glared at the boys but ignored them as he continued to push his baby brother, but he did stop singing.
"Awww, is Mummy going to tell the baby a story then?" "Are you going to breast feed him?" "Mummy looking after the baby!"
Charles took out the hand-held booklet on sign language and signed to his brother, pointedly ignoring them. He blushed embarrassed and glared but continued to sign. One of the boys noticed and laughed at his friends. "Why are you doing that- Oh," he said. "Hey lads, I think we have ourselves an idjit on our hands!"
"Which one, Mummy or the Babe?" one of the others laughed.
"Both," the original one said. The three boys chanted "Idjit," "idjit," "idjit," and also "retard, retard, retard" for variety,causing some other nearby children to chant right along with them. The children that didn't chant just laughed at the fray pointing at them including Charles cringed with embarrassment, Violet. She whispered to one of her girlfriends giggling with delight at the ensuing battle. Charles could clearly see the remnants of the ice cream still stained on her white blouse.
Charles stopped David's swing holding both chains with his hands so tight that his knuckles turned white. He turned to the boy who started the chanting. "Actually, my brother's quite smart. In fact, I'd say he's smarter than you because he knows enough not to make fun of people!"
Some of the other kids stopped chanting and laughed at Charles' comeback. The larger boy then pushed Charles to the ground. "What'd you say, idjit?"
Charles' head and his heart were dueling inside himself for supreme control. His head was reminding him that these boys were larger than him and the wisest course would be to unstrap David and run for it with his baby brother in tow, but his heart was saying, 'They started it, you can finish it.' Charles chose what he thought was the best course of action.
"Obviously, since you didn't listen, you only proved my theory," Charles remarked dryly. "I said that you're the real idjit!" He was about to get up again when the larger boy growled, his face red with anger and he raised a punch so hard on the younger smaller boy's face that it sent Charles falling to the ground and his glasses flying off his face. As soon as Charles fell, he knew that he chose poorly. Before Charles could even get up, the other boy punched him to the ground and straddled on top of him beating him. Charles screamed while the other boy's friends chanted and laughed.
From the baby swing, David had stopped laughing and smiling as soon as Charles stopped pushing him. He was confused but even more distressed when he saw his big brother on the ground under the larger boys. Something was wrong! He screamed at the top of his lungs and began to cry.
From the picnic chair where Will had been resting his eyes, he arose startled at the sound of his youngest son's screams and the loud yelling from other children. He looked towards the swing set where a small group of children had gathered. Some adults had ran to the side. Alarmed, Will ran towards the fray, where a tall boy had been beating up a smaller one, he didn't have to look closely to see the smaller boy was Charles! Will gently pushed back from a large man, who had grabbed the other boy, obviously the kid's father and pulled him aside. Will grabbed on to Charles by the shoulder and helped him rise. At first Charles was stunned, but then stopped upon seeing his father. Will gently picked up his older son's glasses which had broken in the struggle and held him close.
"You alright?," Will asked looking his son up and down.
Charles nodded and swallowed trying to valiently hold back the tears that were emerging from the beating but not really too successfully. From the swing, David was continuing to wail his face red from the exertion and probably confusion. "They called him some nasty names," Charles swallowed. "Like 'idjit' and 'retard'. I defended him but-"
Will gently held onto his son and rocked him back and forth. "Shh, it's alright," he said."Let's get you cleaned up.I have an ice pack in my first aid kit." He let Charles lean on his shoulder while he unstrapped David from the swing and released him. He held one son by the crook of his arm letting him lean on his shoulder, while he perched the other son on his hip holding him by the waist. Both boys cried onto their father. Will was slightly uncomfortable sitting in a squatted position on the hard ground and his leg was falling asleep, but he didn't care as he continued to hold onto both his sons. "I think we've had enough excitement for one day. We'll go home as soon as you are ready, alright?" Charles nodded as Will held him tightly, and gently helped his sons to rise. He placed David in his pram and walked the two over to the table that still held their things and took out his first aid kit.
The small family entered the sitting room and greeted the short woman with salt-and-pepper gray hair. "Hi, Mrs. Becket," Charles said tried to smile but was still holding the ice pack to his face. The pack had begun to melt and water started dripping from the bottom.
"Hello boys, Dr. Carton," she said in her rural Southern England voice. She signed the words along with her speech. She clicked her tongue at the state of Charles' face but did not ask questions. If he wanted to tell her what happened, either he or Will would offer information, otherwise she didn't ask.
"I did your washing up and oh Dr. Carton," she leaned forward. "Bethlem left a message. They wanted you to call back right away, said it's urgent."
Will started and removed the ice pack and placed another one in his first aid kit. "Charles, why don't you go upstairs and rest your eyes for a bit. Go in your room, lie down with the ice pack over your face and the lights off. You can use your spare glasses for now until we get you some new ones right?"
Charles was about to object, but his stomach sank because he knew that his father also had an ulterior motive so that his son would leave the room in case it was bad news about his mum. He slowly walked upstairs.
"He got into a bit of a fight with some boys in the park," Will explained to Mrs. Becket. "Could you take him while I take care of this?" He indicated David. The housekeeper happily obliged wheeling David into the sitting room already signing to the baby and talking sweetly to him. "Have fun with daddy?" she smiled as she wrapped her hand inside his fingers. David smiled.
Will offered a sad smile and then dialed the number. He listened to the receptionist. "Dr. Roderick Sydney, please." He waited for the extension of Emma's psychiatrist to beep before he spoke.
Charles listened from the top of the stairs. He opened the door a crack and heard his father offering some non-committed, "yes," "I see," "I understand," "When?" There was a long pause and then he heard. "I'll be there then."
Charles could hear the click as his father returned the phone to the hook and his footsteps leaving the area. In a panic, Charles closed the door, ran right to his bed and closed the bedsheets over his body and face feigning a light slumber.
Will opened the door a crack and lightly tapped. "Charlie?" As he entered, he felt something cold brush against his toes. He looked down and saw that the ice pack lay on the floor. Will wryly picked it up. "I suppose there's no point in telling you since you probably heard everything, but I'm going to tell you anyway. They said that your mother passed her last evaluation and her behavior has improved and, well, they're going to release her. She'll be coming home!"
Charles looked up stunned. He felt pale as though someone had slapped him. "Oh that's great," he said flatly.
"Well don't sound too excited about it," Will said dryly.
"No Dad," Charles said. "I'm really happy! I am, when?"
"Sunday," Will answered. "I'll come by to get her and I'll be taking her home!"
Charles recovered from the shock and then ran to his father delighted. He gave him a great big hug! "I can't wait to see her, Dad!"
"I know me too," Will said returning the held his son and told him, "Everything is fine." He wanted to believe it. He just had to. They laughed delighted, but Charles felt that his laugh was forced. As they cheered, he wondered, did he want his mother to come home or not?