Lost Cause (3)

Chapter 1
Part One

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Chapter Description: afternoon

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Sixteen years old and already Charles Burbank was a lost cause. This his mother knew for certain. A smart mouth, awful grades, a vandalism rap -- without his father around to keep him in line, the blue-eyed sweetheart they’d called Charlie had grown into Chuck, a bitter and arrogant hellion.

That’s why Mrs. Burbank was so grateful for Dr. Tompkins’s hypnosis therapy. For an overworked, single mother, it was a lifesaver, the only thing that could keep Chuck in line and allow his mother an afternoon’s respite. A mental haze, a temporary change in consciousness, triggered by a phrase, then augmented and ensured through prescribed medication, the endgame of the suggestive process would render Chuck tranquil via a return to comfortable familiarity; during and after this, he would have access to all of his knowledge, memories, and emotions. But the boy would be so mercifully manageable.

That said, hypnosis is for home use, not school; and, in that regard, Friday afternoon was the last straw. Chuck had been sent to the principal’s office for stealing cigarettes from the teachers’ lounge and selling them on school grounds. This, combined with previous offenses, would lead into a weekend of telephone calls to superintendents and appeals against expulsion, pending a final decision from the Willowbrook School District.

The doorbell rang as Mrs. Burbank swallowed an Advil. She was relieved Chuck had kept his Friday night plans. Far be it from her to use medical treatment as punishment, and the effects always had been kept private. But oh, what a stressful workweek will do to a mother...

“Hi, Mrs. Burbank!”

“Good to see you again, Emily!” Mrs. Burbank leaned across the threshold and gave her son’s girlfriend a hug. “I’m glad you could make it. Chuck’s just upstairs. He’ll be down shortly.”

The woman and the 15-year-old girl walked through the foyer towards the kitchen.

“Your house is lovely,” said Emily.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart! I only wish we could’ve had you over sooner. Two months seeing him and you don’t even have a real picture of how Chuck truly lives.”

Emily laughed. “I do like him so far. I’m just glad I get to spend some time with the woman behind the magic.”

Mrs. Burbank shot Emily a smile as Chuck came bounding down the stairs.

“Hey, beautiful,” Chuck said as he put his arm around his girlfriend. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” replied Emily. “Your mom was just fixing us dinner.”

The boy groaned. “I hope it’s better than the shit she made last night.”

Emily’s face turned bright red. She turned to look at Chuck’s mother, who had already set her serving spoon down in quiet frustration. Emily was surprised to find the woman smiling.

“Chuck?” Mrs. Burbank asked. “Did you bring your books home from school today?”

The words sounded hollow and tinny to Chuck, as if he were listening to them through a tin can. A wisp of confusion flitted across his eyes.

“What, Mom?”

“I asked you a question. Did you bring your books home from school today?”

The teenager snapped back to reality in an instant and nodded his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I always do, Mom.”

“Good,” Mrs. Burbank replied. “I’m proud of you.” She ladled out equal portions of chicken and broccoli casserole and set the plates around the kitchen table. The three sat down to dinner.

“I heard you got in trouble with Principal Kamen today,” said Emily. “What was the deal with that?”

Chuck shook his head as he talked through a mouthful of casserole. “There’s no fuckin’ way--”

Mrs. Burbank slapped her son across the face. “Language!”

Chuck took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Burbank nodded. “I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding, Emily. I’m working it out this weekend. Chuck will be at his desk and ready for his math test on Monday morning.”

“Right after Batman,” Chuck added.

Emily turned to her boyfriend. “Pardon?”

“Batman!” chirped the boy. “It comes on at 6:30? Hello?”

Emily was torn between chuckling and being taken aback. A genuine look of confusion crossed her face.

“I... I didn’t realize you were into Batman, Chuck,” Emily said.

“Pfft,” said the teen. He picked idly at his food with the tines of his fork. Eating was beginning to bore him. “It’s only the coolest show ever. I guess you wouldn’t understand ?cause you’re a girl.”

“Excuse me?” Emily replied with a laugh.

“Nothin’.” Chuck resumed eating, dancing his gaze along the ceiling as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“So, Emily,” said Mrs. Burbank, “what sort of things do you like to do?”

The girl set down her fork. “Well, I’m really into nature... if it’s sunny outside I like to go out and walk through the woods, maybe gather up some--”

“BOOORRR-RRRIIINNNG!” Chuck wailed, slamming his hand on the table. “I wanna talk more about Batman!”

“Charles Burbank!” his mother scolded. “You do not interrupt at the dinner table!”

The boy stuck his tongue out. Emily froze in place, her eyes dancing between her hosts. She had never seen her boyfriend act this way before. Sure, he could be a prick at times, but this was just--

“Ow!” Emily said as a chunk of broccoli hit her in the forehead and fell to her plate. Chuck grinned from across the table.

“Gotchoo!” the teenager said, laughing. “Broccoli-face!”

Mrs. Burbank stood up. “CHARLES!”

“Broccoli-face! Broccoli-face! Em-i-ly’s a broccoli-face!” Chuck stuck his hand into the casserole and hurled a handful of food at his girlfriend. She jumped up from the table in revulsion and struggled to pick the chunks of chicken and sauce out of her hair.

“Mrs. Burbank,” Emily said, flustered, “I--”

“I am so sorry, dear,” the woman said, reaching for the paper towels. Chuck laughed uproariously in the background. “He’ll be fine in a second.”

“What?”

“He’ll be fine.”

The laughter stopped.

Emily glanced up to see her boyfriend sucking his thumb and rocking in his chair, an expression of intense concentration on his face, as if he were chasing after a thought.

“He’s certainly a handful, isn’t he?” Mrs. Burbank asked, helping to remove the last of the food from Emily’s hair.

“Um, I guess,” the girl replied.

Mrs. Burbank turned to her son. “Charlie, are you ready for night-time?”

Those hollow, echoing words again. Inside, Chuck was screaming. He knew exactly what was going on. His private treatment -- his deepest, most humiliating secret -- was being put on display, exhibited for his girlfriend like a street parade. He wanted to slam on the brakes. He would do anything.

“Charlie, are you ready for night-time?”

He could do nothing.

A second switch flipped in Charlie’s head, and he spoke around his thumb. “Yeth, Mommy.”

Mrs. Burbank faced Emily and smiled warmly. “Now you’ll get to have a real picture of how Charlie truly lives,” she said. “Could you give me a hand with your boyfriend, dear?”

Emily put her filthy hair up into a scrunchie and smiled despite herself. “Absolutely.”

to be continued

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