Brain Child Page 0,57

with a hand on his shoulder.

“Is something bothering you, son?”

Alex hesitated, wondering if maybe he should try to explain to his father how different he was from other people, and that he thought something might be wrong with his brain, then decided against it. If anyone would understand, it would be Dr. Torres. “I’m fine, Dad. Really.”

Marsh dropped into his favorite chair, and looked at Alex critically. Certainly the boy looked fine, except for his too-bland expression. “Then I think maybe you and I ought to talk about your future, before Torres decides it for us,” he suggested.

Alex listened in silence while Marsh repeated his idea of sending Alex into an advanced program at Stanford. As he talked, Marsh kept his eyes on his son, trying to see what effect his words might be having on the boy.

Apparently there was none.

Alex’s expression never changed, and Marsh suddenly had the uneasy feeling that Alex wasn’t even hearing him. “Well?” he asked at last. “What do you think?”

Alex was silent for a moment, then stood up. “I’ll have to talk to Dr. Torres about it,” he said. He started out of the room. “Good night, Dad.”

For a moment, all Marsh could do was stare at his son’s retreating back. And then, like a breaking storm, fury swept over him. “Alex!” The single word echoed through the house. Instantly Alex stopped and turned around.

“Dad?”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Marsh demanded. He could feel blood pounding in his veins, and his fists clutched into tight knots at his side. “Did you even hear me? Do you have any idea of what I was saying to you?”

Alex nodded silently, then, as his fathers furious eyes remained fixed on him, began repeating Marsh’s words back to him.

“Stop that!” Marsh roared. “Goddammit, just stop it!”

Obediently Alex fell back into silence.

Marsh stood still, forcing his mind to concentrate on the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, willing his rage to ease. A moment later he became vaguely aware that Ellen, too, was in the room now, her face pale, her frightened eyes darting from him to Alex, then back again.

“Marsh?” she asked uncertainly. “Marsh, what’s going on?” When Marsh, still trembling with anger, made no reply, she turned to her son. “Alex?”

“I don’t know,” Alex replied. “He was talking about me going to college, and I said I’d talk to Dr. Torres about it. Then he started yelling at me.”

“Go to bed,” Ellen told him. She gave him a quick hug, then gently eased him toward the hall. “Go on. I’ll take care of your father.” When Alex was gone, she turned to Marsh, her eyes damp. When she spoke, her voice was a bleak reflection of the pain she was feeling, not just for her son, but for her husband too. “You can’t do this,” she whispered. “You know he’s not well yet. What do you expect from him?”

Marsh, his anger spent, sagged onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said softly. “It’s only that talking to him just now was like talking to a brick wall. And then all he said was that he’d talk to Torres about it. Torres!” he repeated bitterly, then gazed up at her, his face suddenly haggard. “I’m his father, Ellen,” he said in a voice breaking with pain. “But for all the reaction I get from him, I might as well not even exist.”

Ellen took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “I know,” she said at last. “A lot of the time I feel exactly the same way. But we have to get him through it, Marsh. We can’t just send him off somewhere. He can barely deal with the people he’s known all his life—how would he ever be able to deal with total strangers?”

“But he’s so bright …” Marsh whispered.

Ellen nodded. “I know. But he’s not well yet. Raymond—” She broke off suddenly, sensing her husband’s animosity toward the man who had saved Alex’s life. “Dr. Torres,” she began again, “is helping him, and we have to help him too. And we have to be patient with him, no matter how hard it is.” She hesitated, then went on. “Sometimes … well, sometimes the only way I can deal with it is to remember that whatever I’m going through, what Alex is going through must be ten times worse.”

Marsh put his arms around his wife and pulled her close. “I know,” he said. “I