Charlie was sitting at the dining table, writing - A lie of omission is still a lie and I will not do it again - and getting increasingly frustrated with the mindless, repetitive task. He let some of the frustration out and hit his fist on the table. Alan sighed as he looked up from the paper he was reading and raised an eyebrow. Charlie scampered back to his lines, not daring to look Alan in the eyes, his moment of bravado gone. Alan sighed again and continued reading.
Writing, especially on paper, and something repetitive was not something Charlie would ever choose to do. That's why it was an effective punishment. But that was also why his hands were starting to hurt and his head had been hurting since he wrote the very first line. He didn't even notice the quick calculation as he figured he had 176 lines to go. Charlie couldn't help but start thinking about the special properties of the number and soon the lines were replaced by number arrangements.
Alan was pleasantly surprised that Charlie had settled down and was accepting his punishment but then he snorted to himself, put his paper down and walked over to where Charlie was sitting. As he had expected (but hoped wasn't the case for once) Charlie was engrossed in some math stuff, the lines long forgotten. Charlie looked so peaceful and happy, the complete opposite of how he was around Alan most of the time these days, Alan almost decided to let him be. But his strong sense of duty of raising the kid right wouldn't let him do that. He stepped away and said, "So Charlie, how many lines have you finished so far?"
Charlie was in a trance as he immediately responded, "I'm working out the co-primes of 176. I think I have an idea for a robust encryption algorithm with only 16 characters unlike the RSA."
Alan wished he understood or was able to communicate with Charlie in a way that would keep his baby boy smiling and not have to deal with the angry teenager who would come out soon enough. He inhaled deeply, hoping to gather all the strength he could find and held Charlie's writing hand. Charlie looked up, confused; not scared. He had likely forgotten the whole lying incident altogether. So much for the eidetic memory. Alan wasn't sure he could find it in himself to be angry with the child for this though. Maybe it was just his brain, working differently. But then he remembered the advice of every psychologist they had spoken with, the best thing for Charlie was for him to treat him like he would treat him without the special abilities. No special treatment. For the millionth time he wondered whether that was the right approach. He could physically feel his younger child going away from him most of the time these days. And his older one, despite having turned out to be responsible and dependable, wasn't interested to be home either. He questioned, where had it all gone wrong.
Alan pointed to the last sentence Charlie had written, the 24th one. He could see the realisation dawning on Charlie as the child couldn't hide his emotions for the life of him. Which broke Alan's heart when he had to punish him, each and every time.
"Daddy, I just got distracted. I'm sorry. I'll get back to the lines right away." Charlie looked at him with those puppy dog eyes. If he agreed, he would likely get a happy, co-operative kid for the rest of the day at least. And if not, the sadness and anger would come back and escalate. Alan would never need math to predict Charlie's reactions. And still the outcome would never be what Alan yearned for.
"Not acceptable. Get up and bend over the table." Saying the words to that already whimpering face made his heart ache.
"But daddy, please no. It hurts. My hand and head already hurt. Please don't make it hurt more. I have realised my mistake and learnt my lesson. I will not do it again. So you don't have to punish me." Charlie had found some of their parenting books early and read them. And then he started saying all the right things that would make them let him off the hook for almost 2 weeks till Margaret figured out what had happened. So from then on, the psychologist had advised them to look at actions and not words for understanding of faults and improvement. And to maintain consistency as much as possible. So Alan couldn't back down.
"You have until the count of three else I'll do it myself and you'll lose your pants." Charlie looked at him, a tear leaking from his eye and nodded slowly. He got up, reached across the table, but wasn't able to reach the end yet, and squeezed his eyes tight. Wanting to get it over with, Alan gave him 6 sharp smacks all over his bottom. Charlie had been crying from the first one. Alan put his hand on Charlie's back and before he could move it to rub, he heard the voice breaking through the sobs, "May I please get up, sir?" "Yeah Charlie you may. Come here my boy" "Is that a part of my punishment? Because I'd really rather not" Charlie said while trying to get the breathing and crying under control and angrily wiping at his tears. Alan was at a loss about what to say. When Charlie was younger, at least he would accept comfort after a punishment and well that comfort worked both ways. Alan's heart was still in one piece thanks in no small part to those post spanking cuddles. The independent Don also always seeked comfort after a punishment. But not this teenaged Charlie. The teenaged Charlie refused any further touch or talk and just did what he was asked, wiping tears from his eyes throughout. Today Alan didn't have the strength to see that.
"No, you may go back to your lines. I'm making tea, you want some?" Charlie had spotted this strange pomegranate tea on a rare supermarket trip and insisted on buying it. Margaret, who has always been so good with the child, said that Charlie had to pay for it from his own allowance and he had to drink it with one other person, not alone. Charlie quickly agreed and since then tea time had become a ritual between mother and son. Alan worked up a taste for the strange liquid to be able to spend some happy time with them but since Margaret got sick, that had also stopped. "No sir" Alan couldn't help but wonder when he would hear the next, "Yes, please dad." He sighed and went into the kitchen.
Charlie sat down gingerly but couldn't find a comfortable spot and kept fidgeting, which in some ways made it worse. He was writing with one hand and wiping his eyes with the other while also holding and pressing on his head. The sight made Alan stop in his tracks. To buy some time to think, he took another sip of his tea. He kept his distance as he said, "Hey buddy, do you want to lie down for some time? I think a nap will do you good." Charlie wanted to immediately say no thanks but his head was getting heavy. But he couldn't say yes right away. Father and son had done this dance many times before. "Will I have to write the lines after I wake up?" Alan knew that if he said yes there was a chance that Charlie would refuse the nap, no matter how much he needed it. So he said, "Yes, you will be completing your punishment after you wake up and right now I want you to go lie down, not a choice. Go."
Charlie wanted to argue but his head ache stopped him. He left the table as it was and went into his room. Alan could soon hear sobbing from the room and couldn't help but get up and start walking towards the room. But he knew that if he went in, Charlie would just pretend that everything was okay and it sounded like he needed the release. So Alan hardened his heart and sat back down. Soon he couldn't hear any more noises from Charlie's room and when he dared to peek in, he found the child sleeping peacefully, looking so much younger. Alan enjoyed the rare moment to smoothen the child's head and went back to the living room with a little lighter heart.
