Ch. 7

Body and Mind

" You know, the human body is a very fascinating conundrum. On the one hand, there have been those who have suffered atrocious injuries and come out – not only alive – but eventually fully healed. On the other hand, there have been those who received nothing more than a minor blow to the back and days later will either die from it or end up paralyzed, all because they twisted the wrong way or tried to bend to pick up a piece of paper."

Charlie shuddered, nearly dropping his chalk. Larry's words, at least a part of them, sounded strangely familiar. Charlie vaguely recalled thinking along the same lines concerning his own spine, which had yet to finish him off in any way. Still, Charlie did not like thinking on it, and especially did not like being reminded about it.

" It really is amazing how both fragile and strong the body can be. I once heard this story about a man, a construction worker, who fell on some sort of pipe or pole. Pierced him straight through the chest. Yet, miraculously, he got up and even took himself to the hospital. Apparently, it had missed all the major organs..."

Charlie paused in his writing, leaving the pi sign half finished. His side was throbbing uncomfortably, which meant that the Tylenol was wearing off.

Why did I come in today? Charlie thought. If there had been a reason, he had totally forgotten it. All he did remember was his overwhelming desire to come to school, pick up where he left off, and immerse himself in work. It probably had more to do with not wanting to stay home and listen to his dad try to nag him into going to see a doctor. Charlie hadn't counted Larry, with his cryptic innuendos that always started off sounding like inane rambling. Larry was clever about making points, always able to tie in present and real life situations with something either quantum, mathematic, or just plain scientific.

Today, however, his subtlety was a little less up to his standards. Charlie knew what he was getting at, but did not hold it against him. Larry was just worried, and expressing that worry the only way he knew how; deep-minded discussion.

But Charlie was finding it distracting. Since Charlie was behind on the lessons, he had let Amita take today's classes until he could catch up. On top of that, there was his part in a project that needed completion. Not his project, but a combined endeavor begun by the professors in Larry's department. Charlie's only part in it, as a favor though they said he would be credited for it, was to check the math and make sure everything fit. Larry was one of those on the team, but refused to discuss its progress, it seemed, until he had driven home his point.

It had never bothered Charlie before - working formulas while Larry talked. It bothered him now, like two opposing forces pulling at him, tearing him two ways. He wanted to lose himself in the problem, think only of the numbers. He wanted silence and solitude, but not at the expense of being rude to his friend. Irritation kept trying to rise like a geyser, but Charlie kept shoving it back down.

" Larry," Charlie began, glad to hear his voice to be free of any annoyance. Charlie crouched, erasing a prime number to replace it with a lesser prime number. " If this conversation is headed to where I'm fairly certain I know it's heading, let me save you the effort by reminding you that I'm fine."

Charlie could feel Larry staring at him in that analytical, yet troubled, way of his as though studying an usual specimen trapped in a jar. Charlie faltered, nearly dropping his chalk again, as his mind focused on that feeling. It was not simply the feeling of being watched, but that Larry's gaze was actually boring holes into Charlie's head, seeing in and beyond him; all the way to the dream.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

Charlie, hand poised at the board with the chalk an inch from the surface, swallowed nervously, his heart thudding heavily in his chest.

You are a coward, kid.

" Charles..."

Charlie jumped slightly, feeling as though he had just snapped out of a nap. He continued writing.

" The human body may be a fascinating combination of mechanics and biology," Larry went on, " and it may be able to withstand quite a bit, but it has a limit you know. Now, I don't want to be the one to dredge up anything unpleasant, but being out in the elements for three days would have taken quite a toll, don't you think?" Larry always had a cautious way of proceeding once he came to his point, as though the blatant truth was volatile while metaphors were safer. " Dehydration, malnutrition, hypothermia, insects, animals..." Charlie did not have to see to know Larry was ticking off each word with his fingers. " Not to mention damage sustained in the fall."

Charlie began writing faster, chalk tapping loudly and dust streaming down the board. " Larry, I know you're concerned, and I appreciate it. But really, I'm fine."

" I'm just saying, what's wrong with a small checkup? It can't hurt."

Charlie paused again. To Larry, it would only seem as though Charlie were contemplating something concerning the equation. Had he known what Charlie was really thinking, he would have kept hammering in his point.

Why not? Just a checkup. My side does kind of hurt.

The more Charlie thought on it, the more it made him ill. There would be hands on him. He didn't want to feel that. It would linger, everything he was feeling was lingering. The dream, he still felt things from the dream, and was tempted to rub them away; on his arm, his head, his side, and especially his back. The sensation of something on his skin, too small to see but big enough to feel crawling and moving about, would not go away. He wanted to scrub his skin clean of it, but most of all did not want to feel it. He did not want to feel anything outside himself.

Then there would be those doctors that would tell him; these bruises, cracks, cuts (whatever) could not have been made by a fall. Above not wanting to feel, Charlie did not want to hear those words. He knew they wouldn't be said, but he did not want to risk hearing them all the same.

" I don't see the need," Charlie blurted. " I managed to walk home, got something to eat, got something to drink, so I couldn't have been that bad off. I feel fine now..."

Charlie unwittingly reached up, stretching to start writing at the top of the board, only to snatch his arm back down and curl into himself with a grimace when the throb in his side flared into all out pain. Charlie clamped his mouth shut to keep from crying out, and did not move until the pain ebbed back into a throb.

" Charles?" Larry asked, and Charlie could hear him shift as he stood.

Charlie let out the breath he did not realize he had been holding, then carefully inhaled as deep as he could, spreading his ribs to test their new limit. His breath caught at another quick stab of pain, so he released the air slowly. Okay, so he couldn't breathe too deep. Pulled muscles tended to do that, not necessarily broken bones.

" Charles?" Larry asked again, and Charlie heard him coming closer. He stiffened, and moved quickly to the other end of the board.

" It's okay, Larry. I just pulled a muscle, that's all. I'm fine." Charlie plastered on a smile and looked at Larry, who was standing with a perplexed expression and his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants.

" Really," Charlie persisted when Larry took another step. Charlie returned to his work, but felt tense enough to snap. Half his mind was on the problem, since it was practically natural for a part of his thoughts to dwell on math. The other half was staying permanently aware of Larry, and listening for footfalls.

Instead, he heard only silence, and felt Larry's stare. Then Larry sighed. " Charles, I know I shouldn't push the matter but..."

Charlie bristled. He did not want to hear it any more. He did not want to do what he did not need to do – did not want to do.

" Then don't!" he snapped, and cringed with a sudden onrush of guilt. Slowly, Charlie turned to look at a now bewildered Larry.

" I-I mean... I'm fine, Larry. Please. I'm fine. I don't need to see a doctor. I just – I'm really tired of people trying to get me to. I just want to forget the whole falling thing ever happened. I tumbled down a hill, okay, big deal. I'm alive, I survived it... Time to move on."

Charlie thought Larry's face could not express even more astonishment, but he was obviously wrong.

" A-Alright, Charles. I'm sorry."

Charlie began twisting the chalk in his suddenly shaking fingers, and momentarily lowered his eyes as he normally did when abashed.

" I'm sorry too, Larry. I didn't mean..." he turned back to the board, " to snap like that. It's just that I'm still, you know, a little disoriented. It was weird, the whole thing was weird, and I would rather just forget it ever happened."

" I understand," Larry replied kindly.

There came a knock to the door, a door Charlie had left open. Charlie snapped his head around to see Don standing halfway inside, appearing more like a lost stranger than his brother who knew his way around.

" Oh hello Don," Larry said.

Don jerked his head in a greeting nod. " Hey Larry. Charlie, you ready?"

Charlie blinked at Don in confusion. " It's time to go?" He looked at his watch, and his heart skipped a beat. It really was time to go. Yet Charlie felt as though he had been at school for only fifteen minutes – at most. Contrary to everything Larry had to say on time and everyone having the same amount of minutes, it certainly did not feel that way.

Charlie set down the chalk. " Yeah, just give me a sec." He wiped his chalk-dusty hands off on his chest, then gathered his books, papers, folders, and laptop into his bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder on the side that did not hurt, yet all the same the movement caused his side to throb a little more viciously.

After shutting off lights, he, Don, and Larry headed out of the room. Charlie locked the door behind him, but paused when he looked into the small window at the empty darkness. For the first time in his life, Charlie found his office, his practical sanctuary, somewhat foreboding in its sea of shadows. He shuddered and turned away. He was weary of dark, cold places.

Charlie said good-bye to Larry and followed Don through the halls. Charlie made a mental note to call Amita and tell her that he would be resuming teaching tomorrow. He would have sought her out since she would most likely be in the classroom or the library, but did not want to keep Don any longer. It was bad enough he had begged for a ride to school like a whiny child, and Don had volunteered.

Why had I done that? Charlie wondered.

Because you really are a coward.

Charlie looked up at Don's back. There was no telling by his stance if Don was angry. He hadn't seemed angry when he arrived. And if Don were angry he tended to express the emotion whether he wanted to or not.

Right now, however, he wasn't saying anything. Charlie picked up his pace to walk beside Don, then leaned forward ever so slightly to look at Don's face. He seemed to be concentrating on something, something that was bothering him. Unease made Charlie's heart beat a little faster.

Charlie cleared his throat, and winced at doing so, since it was always a give away that he was nervous. " Um, Don?"

Don looked at Charlie, and Charlie was relieved to see his older brother's gaze soften. " Yeah?" Then Don's gaze went immediately to Charlie's side, and Charlie realized he had been holding his hand there as though trying to keep it in place.

" You okay?" Don asked. Charlie really was getting tired of people asking him that. He swiftly dropped his hand.

" Yeah, just a little sore. I think I pulled a muscle or something."

" Are you sure you don't want to...?"

" Yes, Don!" Charlie snapped, already regretting it, then lowered his voice. " I'm sure."

They headed outside into a sunny, warm, but humid day. The campus still swarmed with students either coming or going, standing still in clusters or rushing to their next class.

Large crowds of the kind that press in and seem to fill up every iota of space – jostling, blocking, and making taking another step near impossible – had always made Charlie nervous, even panicky. The campus was not even close to being that crowded and still Charlie felt the rising discomfort and urgency he normally felt in packed places. He did not like being around so many. It was making him feel oddly... inadequate, unwelcome, and lost. It was a familiar feeling, one he had had for most of high school, having always been the odd one out and despised for it. He had felt it again after their mother had died and he had finally emerged from the garage - worn, sick, confused, and hating himself for what he had done. Alan had said very little to him, absorbed in his own grief and preparations for the burial. Don had said nothing to him, only looked at Charlie with eyes that spoke a single question. Why? And when the question was not answered, Don expressed nothing but disgust. Charlie had felt like an outcast then too, out of place and not welcome. But that had been worse than high school, and worse than now. Charlie had actually wished himself dead, and yet not along the lines of suicide. He had just wanted to vanish out of existence.

Right now, he just wished he were invisible. But was it because of all the people, or because he was outside? Among his myriad of feelings there was one that was in itself the odd one out; the feeling of being exposed.

Why am I feeling like this? There was always a reason for feeling like this. There shouldn't be one now. I'm fine. Every thing's fine. Nothing's wrong.

They came into the parking lot, and Charlie hurried to the car. He tried the handle but the door refused to open.

" Hey Charlie!"

Charlie looked up through the windows to a worried Don who was holding up the keys. " Gotta unlock it first. Slow down, buddy. Relax."

Charlie looked away in embarrassment, feeling heat rise into his face to make it flush. Once Don had the doors unlocked, Charlie quickly scrambled in, dumping his bag in the back seat, snapping on his belt, slamming the door and letting out a relieved breath that took the tension with it. Charlie glanced over at Don, and felt the heat return to his face on seeing his brother staring at him in a penetrating but concerned way. Charlie braced himself for a barrage of questions. Instead, Don just looked ahead, starting the car then pulling out.

" Maybe you shouldn't go in tomorrow, Charlie," Don said. " You're lookin' a little pale there, pal. You really should take it easy. Just take a day, Charlie, sleep in. It'll help clear your head."

Charlie turned to look out the window, and rested his forehead against the glass. He wanted to get back into teaching, get back into routine. He was certain that would clear his head and help him forget. The problem was, no one else was trying to forget, and in turn they were causing him to remember. They needed to drop this already.

Charlie blinked slowly. He did feel tired though, despite having slept like a rock through the night. He had skipped lunch, but only because he had no appetite for it. He had barely eaten breakfast despite the growling of his stomach and the food his dad had made. Food had now become an unpleasant prospect to him, and the thought of eating made him ill.

I'm probably getting sick, he thought.

Charlie sighed. " Maybe I will, just a day."

" Trust me, Charlie. A day'll do wonders. You'll be back to teaching before you know it."

Charlie nodded. They were crawling past the school, and Charlie let his mind drift as he watched the trees and people go by. A man leaning against a lamp-post suddenly straightened when the car neared. He stood with his hands in his jean pockets and a cap shoved far down his head. When the car passed, the man tilted his head up, and Charlie's heart slammed into his throat.

Time seem to slow when the two made eye contact, and the familiarity of the face flashed in Charlie's brain like lightning. Leon smiled, touching the bill of his cap in greeting, then gradually shrank away into the distance as Don drove on.

Charlie's brain froze and his heart dropped into his stomach.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no...

A dream, a dream, he was a dream, just a dream, it was all just a dream, a freakin' dream!

Charlie tore his gaze from the window to look straight head, sitting rigid as a pole, clutching the edge of the seat hard enough for his finger-nails to leave imprints. He started shaking, and found it hard to breathe.

Tired, I'm just tired. I'm seeing things, I'm just tired.

Charlie managed to force his eyes to roll up and look into the review mirror. He saw the lamp post fading away behind them, but no Leon standing there, watching. Gradually, bit by bit it felt like, Charlie's stiffened muscles began to relax, and his shaking subsided. He almost laughed out loud, while at the same time wanted to cry. He felt so strange, as though he were wallowing through a dream, trying to force it to conform into coherence and in so doing making it worse.

Leon could not have been real. He would not have been so foolish as to come out into the open just to tip his hat at Charlie, not if the cops were after him. It made no sense.

So the only logical conclusion was that Charlie was seeing things. And because of that, his brain could not determine whether laughing was in order, or all out sobbing. So he just sat, still and silent, trying not to think at all.

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A/N: Sorry, Amita fans, for lack of any Amita in this chapter. She will be in this story, but probably not for a while. And I'm telling you now, don't expect any romance. I'm not the romantic-writing type. Sorry.