Chapter Two: Happy Mother's Day

Subtitled, A MESSAGE FROM MOM

By Hemel Lassie, Sylvia M. Bartlett

Readers, I apologize, but this should be the last rewrite of this chapter. It just didn't feel right or complete, until now. Post this, the only amendments I foresee would be, editing for spelling or grammar errors. So, once more into the breach, dear friends. Alas…it turned out I neglected to include an incoming transmission Don received from his mother. So here it is. SMB 05-13-2007

Don stared at his younger brother. After over two hours of fighting the nausea, the dizziness, etc., Charlie had finally fallen asleep. His sleep was restless. His face still twisted in pain occasionally and he often tensed as a wave of nausea hit him. Even in sleep, his brother was finding no ease.

Don was really worriedCharlie wasn't supposed to be this vulnerable. This was Charlie! He was healthy as a horse most of the time. Well, okay, Charles Edward Eppes was healthy as a horse except for those times when the intellectual demands of his restless mind overruled the part of him that knew he needed sleep and nourishment, just like any other human being.

Amend your thinking here, Donnie, my sweet first born! Sometimes your younger brother is more than clueless when it comes to taking care of himself. He has been known to go so deep down the Numb3rs hole, pursuing elusive and entrancing bits of meaning in equations to the degree that he neglects his physical needs enough for him to get sick, exhausted, and vulnerable to any bug or virus that happens to pass within a nano-second of his vicinity. He will neglect people and relationships, too. Not because he wants to, but because his genius mind is overloaded and spilling out interpretations of data at a rate he no longer has complete control over. At that point, Charlie will probably always need his back up. He would need a keeper, or maybe, a watcher, that some one to watch over our little one! While I was still around it was me. Now that task is left to you and Alan, sweetheart. I know you didn't mean to let Charlie fall through the cracks of over busy lives, but I was getting rather frantic. I am always WITH you, but I have not mastered the technique yet to break through that earth bound static the living have, darling Don. You need to start listening, inside…for that still, small quiet voice. I am always here. Listen up!

This time though, Charlie's getting sick was NOT the result of self-neglect. This time Charlie's back up had failed to make sure someone was left standing watch over the Eppes' family brain trust's physical condition. That neglect was on big brother Don. He had failed to take over the watch when Alan left town.

Donald David Eppes, don't you start with the guilt trip. That's a waste of time and energy! You are a man of action, sweet heart. You always were. Do NOT waste time thinking about what almost happened OR what might have happened. Think about what you need to do to prevent this happening again. Lessons learned, Don. Absorb and act on those lessons learned.

Don found himself remembering an image he had carried in his mind for years, when Charlie's difference was first becoming known about. The young boy didn't have the language yet to explain the numbers pouring through his brain, but he performed on certain development tests at a level far beyond his physical age. Those were difficult days because many of those testing the young Charles seemed to assume such savant type genius only came with an accompanying darker side of the coin. Words like autism, Asperger's, slowness to develop language skills had been bandied about. Eventually his mom and dad had to resort to making sure Don came along for testing or Charlie would simply withdraw, pulling his knees up in front of his eyes and quietly rocking in place, humming loudly to avoid the voices always asking him questions, always demanding cooperation, always testing and probing him. Only Don seemed able to keep his sibling from running within the safety of his own mind to hide from the strangers he didn't trust and the tests and questions he didn't like.

One day, struck by an odd attack of whimsy, Don had made a sketch of Charlie…the quiet, solitary child, up safe in his room, weaving magical incantations with his numbers, in ways even highly educated professors of mathematics could scarcely comprehend and all seemed to envy. Charlie was like some male version of Rapunzel, only safe up in his tower.

The image of his younger brother, pale and restless before him on the hospital bed was hard for him to reconcile with the memory of the image he has once drawn. Charlie hated hospitals with a passion. Charlie was smart. He wasn't supposed to get sick and nearly die because he had a bad headache and didn't think to tell his big brother. This was just SO WRONG!

Don dipped a washcloth into the basin of cool water and gently washed away the sweat that beaded on Charlie's face. The soothing contact worked its magic and Charlie sighed and he relaxed, perceptibly. In fact, he muttered "That feels so good. Thank you."

The big brother whispered back. "Don't mention it, Buddy. This is just what families do. I'm here, Charlie, and I am NOT going any where."

Charlie sighed again and seemed to sink deeper into a restful sleep as his older brother kept the watch, wiping the sick young man's face, arms, and hands. The soothing ministrations helped as much because of the physical touch and compassion they represented as any other factor.

Don fought the lump in his throat as he sent a thought winging heavenward. I hope you can see this, Mom. This Sunday is Mother's Day. Dad said that Charlie and I getting close is the best Mother's day, birthday, anniversary gift we could ever have given you. I've got his back, Mom…and I promise you. I won't ever stand down from being there for Charlie…just like he is there for me. Your family misses you, Mom, but you are still with us, aren't you? You always will be. Love you, Mom.

Don could have sworn he smelled his Mom's favorite perfume and the silvery tinkle of her laugh carried over the sound of the air conditioning being pumped from over head into the room.

"Family first, Donnie. That's what your mother and I always tried to teach you, son. I know you have an important job. I know how important some of the work Charlie's done with you these past few years has been, really, I do. I can only wildly guess at how many lives the two of you united and working together have saved these past few years; but, in the end, it should always be the needs of your immediate family that come first."

Don looked up towards the door. "Dad? How did you…?"

"Well," Alan chuckled, as he came in through the door, "shall we say you aren't the only one who had a visit from our personal version of Caspar, the Friendly Ghost. I was sitting in a conference room a few hours ago, alone. Trying to mentally prepare myself for my next presentation? And suddenly, right in the middle of the table, I saw the upper part of your mom. She just gave me THAT look, you know…the one where she is essentially saying with her eyes, 'I love you, Alan, but I swear, sometimes you are completely clueless when it comes to your own family. Charlie and Don need you. Now! Get the heck out of here and get to airport. Catch the night flight home. She even told me which hospital and the room number.' Just like that, I knew something was amiss and I knew I had to get here as soon as possible."

Alan walked over to the bedside of his younger son. He gently passed his hand across Charlie's forehead. "He's been having a rough time, huh?"

"Yeah, he's finally drifted off, but it's been real rough." Even as Don responded, Charlie whimpered a little in his sleep and tossed his head from side to side. Alan grabbed him by both cheeks to still the frantic motion. He leaned down and whispered some words in Yiddish in to his baby boy's closest ear. After those murmurings, he spoke louder in English. "Settle down, little one. It's okay. Your poppa and Don are right here. Settle down."

The words had the desired effect. Charlie sighed and all the tension just seemed to leave his body. Alan held his hand out gesturing for Don to wet another clean cloth. In tandem, the two began a systemic sponge bath. As they did, a slight smile unveiled itself on Charlie's lips and he murmured. "Thank you…oh, that feels SO good!"

"Well, your mom is giving us care instructions, little one."

Charlie managed to open his chocolate eyes. "Mom? Is she…is she here?"

Don answered that one. "You know, Buddy. I didn't realize this until a short while ago; but, I really don't think she ever left us. Not really. I mean…physically, she's gone. She did die, but she never left." Don looked at his father. "I am making NO sense at all, am I?"

Seeing Charlie trying to raise his upper body off the bed, Don moved to restrain him. "Easy now. Just relax. She isn't here, here. You can't see her, Buddy."

Charlie shook his head. "Yes I can, too! She's standing right at the foot of my bed. Can't you guys see her?"

Don and Alan looked to their right/left respectively. They could see a hazy area that was brightly lit, but nothing else.

At their reaction, the fact they were staring where he indicated, but not responding, Charlie got a little more upset. "She's right there." Realizing he might sound a bit…well, crazy came to mind, the professor said. "I know how I must sound. Do they have me on the really GOOD drugs or something?"

Though the knowledge his son could actually see someone he and Don could not, shook Alan to the very core of his being, he responded aloud. "Actually, Charlie…Don and I may not exactly SEE her the way you can, but, if you say your mom is standing right there? I bet we are both inclined to believe you right now."

Charlie frowned. "That has to be the most ILLOGICAL thing you have ever said."

"Hey, bro, you are forgetting that mixed in with their logic, Vulcans also had a very heavy side that was all mystical. They believed in the Creator, the Other, the one Source of all life." Don pointed out.

Charlie looked like he was trying to remember something. The look of confused concentration on his face was priceless, it reminded Don so much of when they were young. Finally the professor spoke again…looking for clarification. "Original series, movies or later series?"

Alan looked over at Don. "This one's on you. I am completely clueless."

"Original series and original series movies, brother mine! Well, those are the ones I remember best. I didn't watch so much later on."

"I think when I get home, we need to pull out the DVD's. I'm not quite grabbing the ones you are referring to. "

Don began a litany. "Original series – Amok Time, Journey to Babel, The Apple…just to name a few. Movies – Star Trek The Motion Picture – Spock on Vulcan seeking Kohlinar, but hearing Vger's voice."

Suddenly grasping a memory out of the deck his brother was offering, Charlie intoned. "Your answers lie elsewhere, Spock, son of Sarek…"

"By Jove…" Alan remarked… "I think he's got it."

Don tousled Charlie's locks. "Welcome back, Chuck. You really had me freaking for a while there. Feeling a little more with us, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Sorry I let myself get so bad, Don. I know I should have called you, but literally I called in to CalSci and I wound up in the bathroom. The portable house phone was dead, Jim and my cell needed recharging, so once I got in there and really couldn't…um, leave the facilities, shall we say, … I was stuck. I had no way to call for help."

Alan smacked himself on the forehead with the palm of his right hand. "Damn it, I forgot to tell you Charlie. The house portable phone needs a new battery. The one in it is one of the recalled ones from the latest batch of bad nickel cadmium batteries. There was a message on the answering machine the other day informing us of that. I had a note in my briefcase…I just forgot to remember to tell you about it before I left on this trip. This is my fault."

"It is NOBODY's fault." Don said, firmly. "It just sort of happened. Let's all quit playing the blame game and just make sure it doesn't happen again! Okay?"

"Agreed!" Alan said.

"Amen." Charlie added. "Let's move on. When do you think they will let me out of here?"

Don frowned at his brother. "Didn't you tell me earlier you had to have some more tests?"

"Oh, yeah." Suddenly Charlie grew very subdued. "Maybe if we point out Dad is home now and you both know you need to keep a close eye on me for a while, they could do the tests outpatient?"

Alan frowned. "What tests? What are you two talking about?"

"I have been having a series of really bad headaches. Eventually I get so nauseated I can't look at food. Heck, if I think about food too much, I throw up. And, my migraine meds are not working on these." The professor seemed in a bit of a rush to explain everything.

"Okay, but what kind of tests?" Alan's immediate response was to demand this knowledge be revealed.

"Frankly, I wasn't feeling so hot when the doctor talked to me…. I don't even remember. No, Don, don't give me that look. This isn't selective memory loss, I just really can't remember."

Don frowned at him. "Yeah, right. I don't think you are going to convince me of that one, Chuckie."

Both Alan and Charlie snapped out. "Don't call him/me that!"

Don did a double take. "Oh, ganging up on me, huh?" It was actually a fairly passable Three Stooges imitation he did.

Charlie smiled a mirthless grin. "Sorry, Don. I just don't feel up to doing the knuck, knuck, knuck line right now."

"Well," Don patted his shoulder, "at least, you recognized the reference.

"Certainly." Alan remarked in a not bad Three Stooges riff himself.

Both boys looked at their father with lopsided grins. "What? Where do you think you got your sense of humor from in the first place?"