Undermind: Nine Stories (2 page)

“I’ll see myself out. Thank you, Gloria.”

He didn’t hear what she said in response as he
quickly made his way outside. The outside air felt great. He almost
wanted to stop and just breathe it in, but he still felt compelled
to get away from this house and this family. He felt sorry for the
boy, but he could do nothing for him so he tried not to think about
him.

***

Later that night, a few hours after dinner, Dave
put his son to bed and read a small book to him. Occasionally, as
he read, he’d stop for a moment and look at his son lying there
with his eyes closed, content and nearly smiling as he enjoyed the
bedtime tale. Dave felt that his child was a blessing and it was
his duty to take the best care of him that he possibly could.

He wanted his son to know how loved he was and
that his parents were there for him no matter what happened in
life. If there were real monsters in the world, they were outside,
not in. And fighting them was his parents’ job. He thought,
Every child should feel loved and protected like Jake
does.

“Hey, Jake.”

The boy opened his eyes and looked at his father
with a smile on his sleepy face.

“Do you like being called Jake, or do you think
you’d rather be called Jacob?”

“Jake!” the boy said and giggled.

“Okay. Forget I asked. Now close your eyes and
I’ll finish the story.”

Later that night, Dave awoke from a nightmare.
Except it couldn’t have been a nightmare because it didn’t stop
when he woke up. The screams continued as he got up and went into
the kitchen for some water. They finally reduced to sobs as he
stood in front of the water cooler drinking an entire glass of cold
water in one go.

It started as a dream of being inside the Mackey
home. Theodore sat at the table by himself eating a plate of
Macaroni & Cheese. Gloria was on the couch, burping a baby that
was lying on her chest. The father wasn’t visible, but somehow Dave
knew he was in the house; probably in his bedroom.

“Mother, I finished all my dinner. May I play
the piano now?”

“I suppose. But only for a few minutes. A show I
wanna watch is gonna be comin’ on.”

Theodore hopped off his chair and scrambled over
to the piano. He grabbed the sides of the bench with both hands and
pulled it back a little. He pushed up the fallboard and climbed up
on the bench. Stretching his fingers as far as he could, he played
a C major chord with his left hand and immediately smiled at the
sound.

He wished he could reach the pedals. Something
inside him told him when he’d need to press on them, and for how
long. He’d never had a lesson, but he knew. He played the C chord
again and then began to gingerly tap out a melody with his right
hand. His left strained to reach the keys for a G chord as his
right hand continued dancing lightly over the higher keys.

Gloria and Ron did not understand how it was
possible for Teddy to play the piano, but rather than thinking of
their child as gifted, they thought of him as simply weird. What
kind of five year old wants to waste his time playing a piano? And
what little kid insists on being called Theodore, for God’s sake?
That was no kind of name for a little boy. It was as if they were
raising an old man in a child’s body.

As Theodore lost himself in the tune he was
composing, he played faster and louder. Ron came barreling down the
hall toward the dining room. Theodore didn’t hear him and didn’t
even see him when he reached out for the fallboard and slammed it
down on his hands. The boy screamed as all ten of his fingers were
smashed.

“How’m I supposed to watch the game with that
racket going on?” Ron thundered, then turned and stormed back down
the hall. Half way back to his room, he yelled back over his
shoulder, “And stop yer damn cryin’ or I’ll give you something to
cry for.”

Dave had opened his eyes when Theodore screamed,
but the vision didn’t go away like it should have. As he walked to
the kitchen, he heard Ron yelling at Theodore. As he filled his
glass with ice water, he heard the injured child struggle to stop
crying, his breath catching and making every inhale sound like a
gasp.

When Dave emptied his glass, he could see
Theodore holding his red and swollen fingers to his chest and
trying as hard as he could to cry silently so Ron wouldn’t deliver
on his promise to give him something to cry for.

Dave set his glass on the counter and wiped
tears from his cheeks.

It took Dave a long time to get back to sleep.
He wondered what had happened to his mind. Were the images real or
just the product of some new and twisted talent he’d developed for
imagining terrible situations with incredible clarity? He
remembered the first images he’d seen of Theodore and how the
wounds on the child in his mind had matched the ones on the real
boy when he’d showed up later.

He needed to find out if Theodore’s hands were
injured. Partly for Theodore’s sake, and partly for his own sanity.
He didn’t know what he’d do either way, but he felt driven to find
out what the truth was. He remembered that a Papp’s mute had fallen
into the piano. He had a valid reason for returning to the house
and possibly getting a look at Theodore. Now if only he could use
what seemed to be an unwanted and disturbing telepathy to know when
Ron would be out of the house.

He decided that he’d drive by in the morning and
if the truck was not in the driveway, he’d stop and get the mute.
If it was, he’d just keep going and try to put the matter out of
his mind. With a plan in place, he finally dozed off into a
dreamless sleep.

***

“Are you all right, babe?”

“Yes, of course. Why?” Dave stood in front of
the stove eating bacon that had drained onto paper towels earlier
that morning.

“I heard you get up last night, then you tossed
and turned when you came back to bed. Then I couldn’t wake you for
breakfast. Was your stomach bothering you again?”

“Not at all. I’m fine. Just a little bothered by
something that happened on a job. I’ll tell you about it
later.”

Nikki frowned, then kissed the back of Dave’s
neck, raising goosebumps along the back of his arms.

“Don’t start,” he said, laughing. “I’ve got to
run an errand, then I’ll tend to you when I get back.”

“Are you sure?” she teased. “Jake’s on a
playdate at Petey’s. We have the house to ourselves right now.”

“Tempting. Very tempting,” he said, stuffing
another full slice of crispy bacon into his mouth. “But I’d be too
distracted to give you the attention you deserve. Raincheck?” he
asked, turning around and wiping his mouth before giving his wife a
quick peck on her lips.

“Okay. I guess I’ll go workout then… naked,
since I have the house to myself.” She walked away slowly, removing
her t-shirt as she went.

Dave looked at her smooth tan back and was
tempted to follow her, but he was determined to solve the
disturbing puzzle that was planted in his mind. He shook his head
and called out, “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” then headed out to
his car.

From nearly a quarter mile away, Dave could see
that the truck was not at the house. For the most part, the
terrible feeling from the dream had faded, but he could still
recall every frame of the mental movie with perfect clarity. It did
not fade away as dream images would’ve done. He called up his tasks
and repeated them to himself. Get the mute. Try to see Theodore’s
hands. Go home, and make love to Nikki. Easy-peasy.

He told himself that Theodore would be fine –
not counting the fat lip and the black eye, but his hands would be
fine. Then he could forget about the dream-vision thing and resume
his normal life. He didn’t actually
know
what had happened
to Theodore. Randomly appearing images in his mind was insufficient
cause to assume the boy was being abused.

As soon as he told himself that, he recalled Ron
yanking the child up from the floor and dragging him out of the
room. He thought of the way Ron had pushed the door into him and
then yelled, “Who the hell are you?” He knew what he’d done and it
didn’t even occur to him to apologize or ask if Dave was okay.

He parked the car and looked down the street,
making sure that Ron’s truck wasn’t coming. He grabbed his tool bag
and walked quickly to the front door. He knocked and waited, trying
to clear his mind. He would go by the facts – not speculation.

Gloria opened the door and looked at him,
wrinkling her brow.

“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you. But I dropped a
small tool inside your piano yesterday and I was wondering if I
could just retrieve it real quick. It’ll only take a few
minutes.”

“Yeah. Okay,” she said, opening the screen
door.

When Dave walked in it seemed that the odor
inside the house beckoned the disturbing mental images from last
night and the day before. He forced his mind to clear and keep
focused on the task at hand. He glanced left and right without
moving his head, hoping to spot Theodore. He didn’t see him or hear
him anywhere.

He slid the bench away from the piano, set his
tool bag down, unzipped it and took out a Phillips screwdriver and
a small L.E.D. flashlight. He sat down and began to unscrew the
bracket holding the lower front board to the key bed. He pulled the
board away and rested it against the bench. His mute was sitting
right there.

If it hadn’t been for the dream-vision thing, he
would’ve just bought another one on his next trip to the music
supply store. They weren’t expensive and it would be worth it to
not have to come back here. But now he had it and was putting the
board back, then screwing the bracket back in place, and still no
sign of Theodore.

“Has Teddy had a chance to try the piano
yet?”

“Um… not really. It’ll be a while before he can
get around to trying it out.”

“Oh, really? Is he pretty busy lately?”

“You might’ve noticed, he’s a bit of a klutz.
Never watches where he’s goin’. And last night… well, he fell and
hurt his fingers.”

Chills went down Dave’s back. He wanted to ask,
“All of them?” but felt that it would be an odd question. He had
his confirmation. He didn’t need to verify that every finger was
injured. She’d just given him what he came for.

“Mommy” Theodore called out from behind a closed
door. “I’m done.”

“Just a minute,” she yelled back. “Are you all
finished up— I forgot your name.”

“Dave. And yes. I’m finished. Thank you for
letting me in, and again, I’m sorry to have bothered you. Have a
great day, Mrs. Mackey.”

“You too,” she said, and watched him walk to the
door and leave the house.

Dave knew exactly what Theodore needed. He was
in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, and was unable to wipe
himself because of the injuries to both of his hands.

“Dave, what’s wrong? You look terrible.”

“Let’s go in the back,” he said, dropping his
keys on the table as he walked by and exited through the sliding
glass door to the back patio. He dropped into a chair and
sighed.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Nikki asked
from the kitchen.

“A beer,” he called out.

Nikki came out with two bottles of water and sat
down. “What’s going on, Dave?”

“There’s a man abusing his child,” he just
blurted, getting right to the heart of it with no preamble.

“As terrible as that is, thousands of children
are abused every day. What does this one have to do with you?”

Dave pushed his fingers back through his hair
and wondered how much he should tell his wife. He took the cap off
the Dasani bottle and drank half of it before responding. “For one
thing, I’m intimately aware of this particular child’s abuse. He’s
not just a statistic. He’s also probably extremely gifted and very
intelligent and somehow that makes it feel worse to know what’s
happening to him. In another family, he’d be praised and encouraged
to develop his skills. But in this one, his spirit is being crushed
and his body is being broken.”

“Woah! You better start from the beginning.
You’ve never said anything about this. How long have you known this
was going on?”

“I just found out yesterday.”

“You learned all about this child yesterday? On
a tuning job?”

“Yes. You’re right. I’ll start from the
beginning.”

Dave told her everything, including the images
in the Mackey’s dining room and the disturbing dream that was
apparently more than just a dream.

Nikki held Dave’s hands in hers and cried as he
finished the brief but tragic story.

***

“We have to do something for that poor kid,”
Nikki said.

Dave picked up the remote lying on the bed
between them and muted the television. “You mean, call the
authorities?”

“Yes! You should call child services first thing
in the morning.”

Dave thought about it. He knew he could keep his
identity anonymous, but he wondered if Ron and Gloria would suspect
him of being the one who reported them since he had just been
there. If Ron was a violent person, he might lash out against
someone reporting him for hurting his son.

“Babe, you know you need to report this,
right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He wasn’t going to tell his
wife that he was considering his own well-being and that when it
came right down to putting it into words, Ron scared him.

“Good.” She leaned over and kissed him, and took
the remote from him while doing so.

She unmuted the TV and fell asleep a short while
later. Dave however found sleep harder to come by. He eventually
told himself that there were many people who could report
Theodore’s abuse. Did it really have to be him? And if he went
through with it and made the call, would Ron be smart enough to
realize that there were more people than Dave who could’ve done
it?