George

  “I have to do some research first. Book research, George. I’ll need some of my reference books at home. Can I be on vacation until I get home? Then I promise that I’ll investigate William’s project from beginning to end.”

  “Well, Ben …”

  “I’m promising you that I’ll do it, George. But not now.”

  “I’m afraid that my time with you will run out, Ben.”

  “All I want to do is sleep. Will you let me sleep late, George? Will you let me at least do that?”

  “That’s against my principles.”

  “I don’t ask you very often. Only twice last year when I had that cold.”

  And that was true, so George agreed. Had he known what awaited their awakening, he would have allowed Ben to sleep even past noon.

  When Ben came down to breakfast at ten-thirty in the morning, he said to Marilyn, “Boy, it sure feels good to be the last one up instead of the first one.”

  Marilyn smiled the smile of the detergent lady who knows that her whites are whiter and replied, “Doesn’t your mother get up and start the coffee?”

  Ben began, “Well, hardly …”

  And George screamed inside of Ben, “She’s looking for a halo, Ben. Don’t make our mother look like Queen Frozen Pot Pie.”

  Ben listened to George and told his father’s wife, “I have what you might call a built-in alarm, so I get everyone up in our family.”

  Marilyn said, “Oh, Big Ben, eh?”

  Ben answered with a smile, not at her remark, but at the voice inside of him that added, “No, Little George.”

  Marilyn turned her back on Ben and began cutting and squeezing oranges, rich in vitamin C. Charlotte Carr who lived in Florida three houses away from the nearest orange tree didn’t own an orange juice squeezer. For years her boys had thought that oranges were for eating only, and orange juice came in cans like any other respectable juice. Frozen. In cans. And on special every fourth Tuesday at the Qwik-Chek near their home. Marilyn whooshed out an orange and as she lifted the hollowed out peel from the squeezer, she looked out the kitchen window at Howard and Frederica getting Good Fresh Air and Exercise in the backyard. Marilyn began, hesitantly at first. “Ben, I let you sleep in especially late today for a reason.” Long pause. Significant long pause. “I let you sleep late because you needed the rest. You’ve been very restless at night.” Marilyn turned toward Ben and asked, “Have you been having nightmares?”

  “If I have been, Marilyn, I don’t remember them,” Ben answered.

  “Well, you’ve been talking in your sleep so much, Ben. In two different voices. Like a lawyer conducting an investigation.”

  “Uh-oh,” George moaned.

  “I pointed it out to your father, Ben. Last night we both listened. And I have an important question to ask you, Ben.” Long pause. Concentrated removal of orange pits from cut half of orange she is holding. “Do you feel persecuted, Ben? You know, picked on? Back in Lawton Beach, I mean. Do you feel that everyone back there is against you?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not sure about that, Ben. Let me put it this way. In all those science courses that you take. Those accelerated courses that you take at Astra, have you ever had any psychology?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I have, Ben. When I was in college studying to be a teacher, I took all the psychology courses that I had to in order to be able to teach.”

  “I thought that you took home economics.”

  “I did, Ben. But I had to have some courses to help me understand who I would be teaching.”

  “Didn’t you know that you would be teaching kids?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course, I knew that I would be teaching children. Girls. But I had to know what makes them do the things they do. So I took psychology courses. I loved those psych courses. We used to call psychology courses, psych courses. And political science was poly sci. I loved my psych courses, Ben, and I took a lot of extra ones. As a matter of fact, I ended up with a minor in psych. Psychology.”

  “I didn’t know that about you, Marilyn,” Ben said.

  “Well, it’s true. And sometimes, Ben, it’s not good to know as much about children as I do. From my minor in psych and all, I mean. I know almost too much about children.”

  “You sure run a neat house, though, Marilyn. The Home Ec must have taught you something. And Frederica is neat, too. The dry parts are. Why do you say you know too much about children? Do you think you give Freddie too many educational toys?”

  “Heavens, no. Not that.”

  “Why do you say that then, Marilyn?”

  “Because sometimes I see things that other people, people very close to other people, never pay any attention to.”

  “Yeah, like Madame Curie noticing that as the amount of pitchblende got smaller, the glow got brighter. That was because the radium was purer.”

  “It’s not quite like Madame Curie, Ben.”

  “Well, what’s psych got to do with my nightmares, Marilyn?”

  “But you said that they weren’t nightmares. And that’s what has gotten me worried, Ben.”

  “Why worried, Marilyn?”

  “Because it just came to me, Ben, last night as your dad and I listened, that you are a classic example. An absolutely classic example.”

  “Why would that worry you, Marilyn?”

  “Because of what you’re a classic example of, Ben.”

  “What would that be, Marilyn? What am I?”

  “A schizophrenic, Ben. A paranoid schizophrenic.” Marilyn looked at Ben. No reaction. “Do you know what that means, Ben?”

  And George answered inside of him, “It means that I want to get the hell out of here.”

  Ben said, “I don’t know what it means, but it sure doesn’t sound like anything nice to tell someone that you practically live with. On holidays and summer vacations.”

  “But I think that you can be helped, with professional assistance. I’ve discussed this with your father, and after listening outside your room, he’s convinced that I’m right. I want you to know, Ben, that it wasn’t easy convincing your father that you’re crazy. He is still your father and feels very warm towards you. But I persisted, and finally, he agreed.”

  “Is that what paranoid how-do-you-call-it means? Crazy?”

  “Well, that’s a bad choice of words. I wouldn’t say crazy …”

  “But you did say it,” Ben reminded.

  “Let’s not argue, Ben. Let me explain. Paranoid schizophrenic means that you have a split personality. That actually you have two personalities, Ben, and that part of you, one of your personalities is totally out of touch with reality, out of touch with what is happening. And that part talks in a deep voice and believes that everyone in the world is in a plot to get the other part.”

  “Not everyone, Marilyn.”

  Marilyn closed her eyes and slowly waved her head back and forth. “With help and understanding, Ben, I believe that we can see you through this. Your father got in touch with your mother this morning. She has contacted a psychiatrist who has been recommended to us by Frederica’s doctor. It was all arranged this morning while you were sleeping in. They were roommates in college, the psychiatrist and Frederica’s doctor.”

  “What does one doctor’s knowing Frederica have to do with another one’s knowing me?”

  “Obviously, we don’t want to send you to a perfect stranger.”

  “But he is a perfect stranger. To you and to me,” Ben persisted.

  “You see, Ben, you’re arguing.” She shook her head. Ben shrugged. “We’re sending you home so that you can begin your therapy. You’ll begin therapy right away. Therapy is what they call treatment for mental disorders.”

  “I’ve heard that word before, Marilyn.”

  “Yes,” Marilyn smiled. “You are a bright boy. And I want you to know, Ben, that your father and I will be in communication with your psychiatrist at regular intervals, and that anytime you feel the need to discuss your troubles with us, we
will be no farther away than the nearest telephone.”

  “Her and the friendly finance company,” said George.

  “You can reverse the charges,” she said. Ben was silent. “I know that this is all something of a surprise to you, Ben. Finding out that you are going home and that you are a schizo when you weren’t expecting that either. Schizo is what we called schizophrenic in psych. We are so very concerned. So very concerned, your dad and I, that we don’t think that there’s a moment to lose. And we think it will be better for you and for Frederica.”

  “Is it contagious?”

  “No, Ben, but we want Frederica to experience only the most normal things. We don’t think that it is fair to her to expose her to having to make compromises with her normal growth pattern.”

  “I get it,” said Ben.

  Marilyn was looking at Ben with her head slightly tilted and her mouth slightly smiling. And the whole look had been only slightly rehearsed.

  “I understand,” Ben muttered. “I’ll go up and pack.”

  Ben turned to go, and George said, out loud and in the public of Marilyn, “Marilyn, old girl, you are possibly the world’s greatest jackass.”

  And when Marilyn heard George’s deep, dark insult pour from her stepson’s lips, she again slowly waved her head and said, “Poor fella.”

  six

  The Buick, Mr. Berkowitz, and Mrs. Carr were waiting for them at the airport. In years past Mrs. Carr had met them at the airport all corseted and nylon hosed, ready to take them out to eat as their coming-home treat. This year she was dressed much the same as she had been in years past, but her face looked as it did when one of them had a sore throat or was coming down with one.

  She smiled at them together and then at Ben alone, and her smile broadened. She shrugged her shoulders, reached over and hugged her Ben; right there in public, at the airport terminal in front of Mr. Berkowitz, she hugged him.

  And then she said, “You know, Ben, I think that Marilyn is just possibly the world’s most terrific jackass.” She said that. Right there in the airport terminal in front of Mr. Berkowitz and anyone else who cared to listen. She tipped Ben’s chin toward her and said, “We have to see this through, Ben.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if they find out that you are not psychologically sound, and they can show that living with me is harming you emotionally or any way, they may request that you live with your father and Marilyn instead of me.”

  “Who is they?” Ben asked.

  “The court. The judge. The divorce court.”

  Mr. Berkowitz looked awkward. It is very difficult for a heavyset man to look unwrinkled or unruffled. He put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and said, “Well, Ben.” He cleared his throat and said, “Well, Ben.” Ben looked puzzled, and Mr. Berkowitz added, “Well, Ben, it’s good to have you home.”

  Howard asked, “Would I have to go, too, Mom? To live with Marilyn?”

  “If Marilyn and your father sued for custody of you; that is, only if they asked for you.”

  “He’s safe,” Mr. Berkowitz said and gave Howard a light clip under the chin.

  The others laughed, and then as if a spell had been broken, Mr. Berkowitz swung into action. He announced that he was taking them all out to supper. He had invited only Charlotte Carr, but when she had to change her plans to include a trip to the airport, Mr. Berkowitz had changed his, too. He was on vacation after all, and in the morning he would be leaving for New Jersey to visit his mother. He carried the luggage from the terminal, put it down in back of the car, and after only three tries with the key, got the trunk open. Mr. Berkowitz seemed much less awkward when he was in motion. For example, when Mr. Berkowitz returned them all home and after the trunk was emptied, and all he was doing was standing close, very close to Mrs. Carr and telling her good-bye and all she was doing was standing close, very close to him and wishing him a pleasant, safe trip and all Howard and Ben were doing was watching, he appeared awkward again.

  Ben’s first appointment with the psychiatrist was for 10:00 a.m. the next morning. Mrs. Carr was taking the day off work to get him there. George told Ben that he would get him up in plenty of time.

  “I’m glad that I can count on you for that at least.”

  “I would like to know what you can’t count on me for, Benjamin.”

  “I can’t count on you to be quiet.”

  “And I can’t count on you to tell me when Marilyn is listening at the keyhole.”

  “This may come as a complete shock to you, George, but I cannot, repeat, cannot see through doors. And I can’t hear sounds that aren’t made. Like Marilyn didn’t make any. Does that throw you, George? To know that I can’t do those things?”

  “No, Benjamin Body, that information does not throw me. Because I am often surprised that you can see what is there. Your bumping into things in the lab is a legend in its own time. There is much to be seen that is outside a test tube, and there is much to be heard when people talk besides what they say.”

  “George, you are talking out loud again. What is the matter with you? I never had to tell you before when to do your talking silently. You always knew. It was always understood between us.”

  “I had to talk loud at Marilyn’s to keep you awake. You were hung up on getting some sleep. Sleeping your way out of a problem is what you were trying to do.”

  “Hung up? Hung up on getting some sleep? I was plain tired. Tired of your nagging. You were hung up. Hung up, nothing. You were crazy on the subject of the thefts in the lab. What are you trying to be? Sherlock George Holmes and James George Bond all rolled into one, and, unfortunately, all rolled into me? Do you know what I think? I think that you’re the one who is crazy, George. Not me.”

  “Unfortunately, rolled into you? Is that the way you feel about me, Ben? Is that the way, after all these years?”

  “You have gotten so loud. So loud, George. See. See. You’re talking out loud again. Shouting. What is happening to you? Are you losing control of yourself altogether?”

  “No, I’m not losing control. What I am losing is the understanding that we have had between us.”

  “And I don’t understand why you’ve been such a pest.”

  “You have given me no choice. What am I supposed to do? Be absolutely quiet while Priscilla Peanut Butter and Berkowitz and Karen and everyone in the whole of this world accuse me of taking things that don’t belong to you? I can’t be quiet even if you can be. Even if you choose to sleep the whole thing off. You’d hide inside a test tube if you’d fit. Well, most of the problems in this life won’t fit inside a damn test tube. And if you crawl inside one at the age of twelve, you’ll cramp your growth. No wonder I’m upset. And I intend to continue being upset.”

  “And upset my mother and upset Marilyn and upset my father and Mr. Berkowitz and if you keep at it, you’ll upset the principal at Astra and that will be a wonderful upset. That will let them toss out the whole science program. Enough of the equipment was returned to forget the whole thing. The rest of the equipment will turn up at the end of the year.”

  “Ben, don’t tune me out. Don’t tune out what I’m telling you. Listen to me. Those thefts are only a symptom. The two of us can figure this out, the way that we always work things out together. You find out about the amides for William’s project. Look it up.”

  “We just got home, remember? I’m sorry if I don’t have a handy dandy branch of the Dupont Library in the next room. I’m terribly sorry, George, if you might have to wait a few more hours before you get the information.”

  “I’ll wait until tomorrow. They say that two heads are better than one.”

  “Even when one is simple minded?”

  “Simple minded? You call me simple minded?”

  “I meant …”

  “I say that one head has to do the work of two when one of them is stuffed with cotton and chemistry. Cotton and chemistry.”

  “I meant to say single minded.”

  “Yeah. Cotton to keep out
the sounds of the world and chemistry to keep out its smell.”

  “You didn’t even listen to what I said. I said that I meant single minded.”

  “Yeah, well, I meant what I said I said. Cotton and chemistry.”

  Then Ben exploded, “For crying out loud, George, you’re crying out loud.”

  “Crying?” George screamed, before Ben interrupted with, “Oh, shut up, George! Shut up already.”

  And George did shut up. He shut up right then. And almost immediately then, Ben became sorry that he had ever asked that of George.

  seven

  At 9:30 Ben and Mrs. Carr arrived at the office of the psychiatrist. They had been asked to come a half hour early for their first visit so that the nurse, who wore the tightest, pinkest uniform that Ben had ever seen, could fill out forms on everything that Ben told her and everything that his mother told her, too. The nurse asked if there were any siblings: one. Name and age: Howard, eight. Was delivery normal? As normal as the U.S. Mail and more punctual. To whom should the bill be sent? To Mrs. Marilyn Carr; her husband would take care of the whole thing. Ben thought that George would enjoy hearing that.

  Dr. Herrold appeared to be a reasonable man. Friendly, too. Ben decided that he would tell him about George. Knowing about George would clear everything up immediately. It would save his own reputation and also save his father a lot of money. Ben realized that having George live inside of him was not normal, but it was a fact. Since Dr. Herrold was a psychiatrist, he was practically a scientist and would have to accept reality, the reality of George.

  So right at first, right at the beginning of Dr. Herrold’s first conversation with Ben, Ben said, “Dr. Herrold, I would like to save us this trouble. I would like to clear this whole thing up immediately. I know that doctors can keep a confidence. Howard is the only other person who knows. If you look at the record, you’ll see that Howard is my sibling. I must request that you not tell anyone else.”

  Dr. Herrold replied, “Ben, if we’re going to get anywhere at all with this relationship, it has to be based on mutual trust.”