The Great Altruist (32 page)

       
    
"On what?"

       
    
"Do you really think it's worth saving?" she asked.

       
    
He had seen more of his family's history than anyone in history before him had. The things behind closed doors that no one saw; the things only God knew. He was now privy to every dark secret his family had done so well keeping hid. It was all out in the open now and the future of his family was in his hands to determine. "I still do," he said. "I know that sounds crazy."

       
    
"There's nothing crazy about that. But maybe it’s time to go home."

       
    
He sat in silence as Genesis flew to the windowsill and resumed staring at the clouds. She couldn't say much else to him at this point. He needed to decide on his own the next course of action: let his parent's marriage die on its own or do what he needed to save it.

       
    
As he stared at the floor, she slipped into the stream and emerged a split-second later. He never noticed.

 
“I suppose there’s nothing left I can do,” he mused aloud.

       
    
"You need to do something positive in her life. Come with me. I have a present for you.”

           
A moment later, James stood in what appeared to be a lounge. He was alone, except for the ever-present Genesis, who tried to catch drops of coffee as it dripped from a machine. He was dressed in a sweater-vest and dress slacks, and when he felt his head he could tell he was middle-aged and balding.

       
    
"You've truly outdone yourself," he remarked to Genesis. "But I thought you could only put me in the body of a relative?"

       
    
"Oh, if only I could tell you all the things I can do," she said.

       
    
"So how am I supposed to make a difference here? Where am I?"

       
    
"You're in your old grade school, the one your mother went to as well."

       
    
"You mean she's here? How old is she?"

       
    
"She's nine, and her next class is about to start."

       
    
"I'm her teacher, aren't I?"

       
    
Genesis nodded.

       
    
"But what do I say to her?"

       
    
"That's entirely up to you. Nothing you say will change anyone's future but hers. You have nothing to fear."

           
“Are you sure?”

           
She hovered away from the coffee machine and kissed him as passionately as their mismatched lips could allow. He knew right away he had nothing to worry about.

       
    
"Then let's go," he said as he motioned to his briefcase.

       
    
"You want me to hide in there?"

       
    
He nodded back at her with a smile.

       
    
"Ugh, okay!" she moaned.

       
    
She climbed inside the briefcase and tried to settle herself between all the papers. "You owe me one for this," she said.

       
    
“Actually, this makes us even for even for putting me in my aunt."

       
    
"Very funny,” she said. “Do you know where you're supposed to be going?"

       
    
"No, I was hoping you could tell me," he said as he pointed to the class schedule next to her.

       
    
She held up the class schedule into the light and read it. "Room 202." She ducked down as he closed the briefcase and wedged a folded piece of paper between the lid and case to allow some air in and then quickly headed off to teach class.

       
    
When he got to Room 202, he allowed Genesis to slip into one of the drawers in the desk before the students arrived. Once they did, he told them to go over their homework from the day before. As the class went over their assignments, he spent his time observing his nine-year-old mother sitting in the rear of the class and writing in her journal. She seemed distressed and was not very sociable, even to the point of ignoring students when they talked to her.

       
    
It wasn't long before the class period ended and the students began to leave. As Becky stood up, she bumped her arm on a neighboring desk, grabbed it in pain, and massaged it.

       
    
"Are you alright, Rebecca?" James asked.

       
    
"Yeah, I just hit my funny bone," she answered.

       
    
"Well, your funny bone is on your elbow and you grabbed your arm. Are you sure you're okay?"

       
    
She nodded.

       
    
"Do you mind if I check your arm anyway?" he offered.

       
    
She obliged reluctantly and exposed her arm - there was a large bruise across her bicep.

       
    
"Oh, what happened here?" he asked. "It looks like you got in a bit of a fight."

       
    
"No," she denied. "I've just been a little clumsy. I tripped on the stairs at home yesterday."

       
    
"I see," James said to his mother, who hung her head and tried not to make eye contact. "Are you sure no one hit you?"

       
    
She shook her head as tears began to well up.

       
    
"Becky?" said James, trying to get her to look up, which after a moment she did. "It's okay to tell me. You don't need to be scared."

       
    
This time she nodded and rolled down her sleeve to cover the mark on her arm.

       
    
"Did someone at home hit you?"

       
    
"My father," she managed to confess, the tears beginning to build up.

       
    
"Hmm," James mumbled. "Does he hit you a lot?"

       
    
"Only when I don't do what I'm told."

       
    
"I see. And do you think you deserve to be hit for that?"

       
    
She shook her head. "No."

       
    
"You're right. You try to be a good girl, don't you?"

       
    
She nodded. "Yeah."

       
    
"Then it's not your fault that he hit you. You didn't do anything to deserve being hit."

       
    
"Then why does he do it if I'm not a bad girl?"

       
    
James pondered the question and tried to think of a way to answer it
so
her young mind could understand. "There are a lot of reasons he might feel like he needs to hit you, but none of those reasons are good reasons," he assured the child. "A lot of people will try to make you feel bad about yourself, but you shouldn't listen to them. Even if you
were
being bad, no one has the right to hurt you like this."

       
    
The little girl began to cry. James took his mother into his arms and embraced her, wanting so much to see only the best for her. He knew his efforts today were too small to matter, but he was glad he was finally getting a chance to make a difference.
I’ll need to thank Genesis every day for the rest of my life for giving me this moment!
he thought.

       
    
"You need to promise yourself something, Becky," he said as he pulled his mother away and looked her in the eyes.

       
    
"What?" said the little girl as she wiped away her tears.

       
    
"You need to promise yourself that you will never let anyone hurt you. No one, no matter who it is, even your father, should ever make you feel bad about yourself. You are a beautiful girl and someday you will be a beautiful woman. Don't ever let anyone touch you like this again. And if someone does, you need to tell someone: me, the principal, the nurse, or even a policeman. Do you understand?"

       
    
His mother nodded softly, still feeling somewhat ashamed.

       
    
"Do you promise?" he asked again, this time softly.

       
    
"I promise," she said.

       
    
James smiled at his mother and let her go to her next class. As his mother left the classroom and walked down the hall, James closed the door and motioned for Genesis to come out of the drawer.

       
    
"I would say that went pretty well!" she approved.

       
    
"Thank you so much for this."

       
    
"It was all my pleasure, James."

       
    
“I love you,” he said.

       
    
“And I, you,” she replied as she kissed his lips with hers.

       
    
"So is it time to go home now?"

       
    
"It is. It's time to let nature run its course."

       
    
A moment later, they were gone.

           
James opened his eyes and saw the bare ceiling of his bedroom. The joy of home was overwhelming.

       
    
"Welcome home," Genesis said.

       
    
He looked around the room as though it were unfamiliar. "How long were we gone? In my time?"

       
    
"Only a few seconds. But a lot changed in that time."

       
    
"It certainly has," he said. The changes of the past had filtered into the present. The walls were no longer plastered and caked with drawings and photo enlargements of Katherine.
What else has changed?
he thought.