Drew's Story
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Chapter 14
Mike's out of school on spring break. We would have liked to take him somewhere of interest, but Tor and I are scheduled to begin another set of short orientation courses for Joynes and Langford on Monday. When Mike asks to sit in Tor's class, Tor gives him a notebook and pen to amuse himself. Surprisingly, Mike attends every one of Tor's lectures and tells me he likes it.
While I'm straightening up a few days after the course is over, I pick up the notebook from the shelf over Mike's bunk and flip through a few pages only to fall down on his bunk in amazement. Mike has taken pages of notes from Tor's lectures that are better than ninety-five percent of our students take. I yell for Tor and hand the notebook to him when he comes up from his lab. His mouth drops open as he flips through the pages.
"My god, he could pass the course with notes like these! Every question I put on the exam is covered. He just hasn't spelled all the terminology right."
"He didn't have a text, either."
"Damn it, if he can do this, how'd he get a B in science? That's the only grade below an A he's had."
"I know. I have an idea, but you'd better ask him when he comes in."
"You better believe I will."
Mike comes riding up on his bike just in time for dinner, having been to the park down the road a ways with some of the other kids. Tor holds out the notebook. "Mike, these equal the best notes anyone's ever taken in my class. If you can understand my lectures so well, how the hell did you manage to get a B in 8th grade science?"
Mike's embarrassed grin vanishes. "Who wants to play around with mickey-mouse stuff like that? I mean refracting light through a prism or breaking water down by electrolysis. You and Drew do stuff that counts and you make it interesting when you teach."
"That doesn't explain the B."
"They give us those stupid standardized tests. I marked all the right answers and the machine kicked it out. They said I cheated. The teacher knew I didn't, so they made me take it over. I got pissed so I just marked whatever answer the pencil hit. Who cares?" He's become a little belligerent.
"I know a lot of it seems simple to you, Mike, but you've got to remember you're around us all the time and pick it up while the other kids have to learn it from the beginning. The thing is that no matter how silly it seems to you, you have to make the grades now if you want to continue in advanced classes. I wish you could exempt the course by exam like in college, but you can't. So if it means you have to play their silly games, just go along. Okay?"
Mike shrugs. "I guess."
"No guess, Mike. Just do it." Tor demands.
A few days later Tor is in his lab cutting and mounting sections of various types of aquatic plant life for me to photograph for our new book. It's routine stuff, but if the amount of swearing I'm hearing is any indication, Tor's having a hard time getting what he wants. Mike must have finished his piano practice, for I hear him say, "What's wrong, dad?"
Tor mumbles something and Mike asks, "Can I try?"
"If you think you can do it any better than I can, try it!" Tor flares.
A few minutes later I hear Tor screaming for me. I drop through the hatch as quickly as I can, afraid one of them has gotten hurt, but when I look in the lab Mike's handling the microtome easily and Tor's looking through the microscope with a broad grin. "Look at this!"
He moves over to let me see. I can always tell his work instantly and I've seen many slides done by others, but I can't recall ever seeing one done more professionally.
"My god! I give him two minutes of instruction and he does work a professional would kill for."
Mike interrupts. "You want some more?"
"You're done already?" Tor yells.
"Yeah." He points to six mounted and stained slides next to the scope.
Tor and I start to argue over who is going to see them first, but Mike pulls them away and slips one into our newest toy, a high-definition mini-cam and monitor. He dims the lights as the monitor comes up. Tor and I are entranced by the perfection of his work since the expanded view on the monitor is easier to judge than seeing the slide under the scope. I see immediately that I'm going to have to rephotograph at least two and probably more of the slides Tor had done earlier because Mike's work is superior.
Mike glows under our honest praise. "Can I do some more?"
"You mean you like it?" Tor asks, astounded.
"It was fun. It's real stuff, you know, not like that kid crap at school."
"The next time I need sections, you're doing them. Damn, I hate that job. You heard Drew say he was going to shoot two of yours to replace the ones I did."
"That's great. Now maybe I can really help you guys with your work."
"You'd better believe it," Tor says.
For the past few weeks the pastor has been giving Mike instruction privately because Mike is the only kid preparing for confirmation. Dave stops us in the hall one afternoon after Tor and I have finished teaching our classes.
"Mike's to be confirmed Sunday. Martha and I expect to see you there because this is second in importance only to his baptism."
We meet the Curtises at the church, but Mike is nowhere to be seen. I'm beginning to worry by the time the organist begins the prelude, but when it roars on the processional hymn, I look up to see Mike sitting on the bench playing away. The shock is so great I can only stand and stare. When I recover, I punch Tor and point. His expression is priceless.
I listen closely to everything Mike plays. I can tell he's nervous because he's a little hesitant in starting a couple of the chants, even thought Mrs. Hanson is sitting next to him. But I'm proud of how well he's doing.
After the homily, the pastor calls Mike the altar for the confirmation liturgy and announces to the congregation that not only is Mike being confirmed, but is providing all the music for the service.
Tor and I, the Curtises, and several members of the church gather around to watch him play the postlude for which he gets a round of applause. Mrs. Hanson is smiling broadly when she hugs him and congratulates him on doing so well. The pastor tells Tor and me how proud we should be of Mike for his achievements and expresses his hope that we might consider joining the church as well. I have come to respect the man highly, for he's never pressured us in that regard and treats us with kindness and respect.
At dinner in the nice restaurant where the Curtises have taken us to celebrate, they give Mike a religious medallion to wear around his neck. Tor and I give him the wristwatch he mentioned wanting.
Mike takes another jump in his schoolwork. For the summer session he's enrolled in second year algebra and an advanced biology course even though he's just entering ninth grade. It took Tor several sessions with the principal before he got Mike admitted to the biology class. Mike, himself, wasn't too happy about it after he learned the teacher would be the same one who had given him a final grade of B for his 8th grade science.
A few weeks after the courses begin he eases in one afternoon looking uncomfortable. I can tell he was hoping he wouldn't be seen. "Okay, babe, what is it?"
He bites his lower lip and slips his report card out of his notebook. The F in biology sticks out prominently below the A in algebra.
"Why?"
"You know that paper I did on plankton? She said I copied it all from books, so she gave me the F. Please don't tell Tor, he'll kill me."
I remember his paper well, because he gave it to me to read after he finished writing it. It was good, even by the college standards I used to judge it.
"Didn't you explain that most of the stuff is in Tor's lab and you see it every day?"
"I tried, but she said if I argued with her I'd get an F for the whole course."
I sign his report card quickly and hand it back. "Keep quiet about this, okay?"
He slips it back in his notebook and grins. "Thanks, dad. Oh," he bites his lip again, "she told me to bring you this note."
After giving Mike an F, she has the nerve to ask to borrow a set of slides from the institute similar to those Mike did not too long ago for Tor.
"She wants to borrow some slides. I know there aren't any like she wants in the institute's collection, but all the stuff is down in the lab if you want to make them up and take them in." I know Tor won't mind because ever since Mike's started doing his micro-section work, Tor's let him have free run of the lab.
"Yeah. That'll be fun." He drops his books on his bunk and disappears through the hatch with the list. Tor's up at the institute so he'll have the lab to himself.
It's just under an hour when Mike's calling me. I go down to find an empty case for him to carry them in.
I'm about to take a break from typing up notes the next afternoon when the phone rings. It's Dave asking me to come up to his office. It seems some Ms Cameron is there to see me.
When I get there, Dave is looking through a microscope, beside him a middle-aged woman with a sour expression. Dave glances up at me and goes back to the scope, while she looks me up and down finally saying, "You can't possibly be Mike's father."
I'm suddenly aware of my ragged jeans and old T-shirt with a mildly vulgar statement on the front, one of Tor's joke gifts. Dave straightens up and apologizes. "I'm sorry, I thought you had met. This is Doctor Drew Torrence, Mike's father."
She's about to say something else, looking even more like she's sucking a lemon, when Dave turns to me. "Ms Cameron brought these slides for me to see and says that she had a note from you saying that Mike prepared them himself."
"He did. There's nothing in the collection here that matched what she asked to borrow. Tor had everything in his lab, so Mike made them up. He does all of Tor's micro-section work now."
"You're kidding!"
"No way. He's better at it even now than Tor will ever be. Tor hates doing it and Mike's terrific, as you can see."
"I find it hard to believe that someone as young as Mike is better than professionals at such precise and tedious work." She snaps.
I curb my temper. I don't know why she seems to dislike Mike so much, but I'm not about to give her something additional to use to throw Mike out of her class.
"If you would care to walk down to our lab, you can watch Mike do one."
"I'd like to," Dave says quickly.
Since she has little choice, she follows us down to the boat. She's hesitant about going down the hatch, but Dave helps her. Frankly, I like to give her a push so maybe she'd break her neck. Mike's practicing his piano with the headset on, so he's unaware of our presence until I tap him on the shoulder. I don't miss the momentary curl of his lip when he sees his teacher.
"Hey, babe, Dave wants to see you do a slide."
He nods at his teacher. "Hi, Uncle Dave. Sure. Come on in." He leads Dave and his teacher into the lab and sets to work on some of the material Tor has set aside. Within ten minutes he has the slide prepared and under the scope.
"Beautiful," Dave says and steps aside for Cameron to see. While she's looking through the scope, Mike does a 'wet' slide, places it under the mini-cam, and hits the switch.
Cameron looks surprised, particularly when in response to her question Mike rattles off the Latin names of the various plankton with ease.
"I had no idea you were so advanced, Mike." She says, looking around. "Surely a lab like this isn't for you."
He shakes his head. "It's Tor's. Dad's lab is next door."
"Two labs!"
"Drew and Tor do their own research for the texts they write. They also teach at the institute." Dave explains.
She looks longingly at the HDTV system. "I'm quite envious. With a system like this I could be sure everyone was seeing exactly what I wanted them to see. What a joy it would be to teach in a lab equipped like this. You are fortunate to come from such a scientific family, Mike."
On the way out, she stops to look at his electronic piano and the music on the rack. "What were you playing?"
"A Bach Three-Part Invention."
"Would you?"
Mike unplugs the headset to activate the speaker so we can hear and plays the piece well. I'm proud of the way he's handled himself with a person who's treated him unfairly.
Ms Cameron is all smiles and graciousness as she takes her leave with Dave. Mike looks relieved and I'm thankful that Tor wasn't around. When Mike comes in from school the next afternoon, he brings me a note of apology and a photocopy of his grade sheet showing that the B's from last term and the F she gave him, thinking he was lying, have all been changed to A's.
A few days later I'm printing some shots I've taken for our new book when I hear footsteps overhead.
"I'm home, dad." Mike yells through the hatch.
"I'm in the darkroom. I'll be out shortly."
"Okay. I've got some reading to do."
Just as I get the last of the prints in the dryer I hear a thud from above and Mike yell, "Damn! That hurt."
I pull myself up through the hatch and take a look. Mike is sprawled on the deck, trying to get up. Then I see what's hindering him. The fool kid's got my peg-leg strapped on his right leg.
I climb out of the hatch and lift him up. "What the hell are you doing with my peg on?" He looks ridiculous with the lower half of his leg and big foot sticking out behind the peg.
He gives me a sheepish look. "Sorry, dad. I know I shouldn't have bothered your peg-leg, but I wanted to see what it's like to walk on one."
"Find out?"
"Yeah. It ain't as easy as you make it look."
"You tried to pull the peg straight forward like you would with your leg, didn't you?"
He nods.
"When you lift your leg, the knee bends and keeps your foot off the floor, but a peg-leg doesn't work that way." I put my arm around his shoulder, then take the peg in my hand and swing it out and around so it doesn't drag against the deck. "Get the idea?"
"Yeah." He tries a few steps, doing it right, then turns and grins at me. "That's kind of fun. You ain't mad at me, are you?"
When I look at his sweet face, how can I be angry with him for satisfying his curiosity. Now that he's as tall as I, I'd really expected him to try before this. "No way, babe. You can play around with the peg when I'm not using it if you want, but don't mess with my leg if I don't have it on, and don't go trying Tor's hook, either. They're damned expensive to get repaired and we need them."
"I won't. I didn't figure I would hurt your peg-leg, though."
"You didn't. It's sturdy so it would be hard to break." I give him a hug. "Be glad you've got both your legs and arms and don't have to depend on stuff like this like Tor and I do."
"I am, dad. I just wanted to see what it was like since you use this peg more than you do the leg."
"Well, now you know what it feels like. It's more comfortable than the leg if I have to stand for a long time, like when I have a lot of work in the lab.
"Oh. It don't hurt or anything. I thought it might."
I ruffle his hair. "When you get an arm or a leg cut off, it sometimes takes a while for the pain to go away completely. After that, it's just like before, except you don't have the arm or leg."
"How'd you learn to do things, then?"
"They teach you some things when you're in rehabilitation, but mostly you learn as you go along. You don't have any other choice."
"Oh. Thanks for telling me, dad." He throws his arms around me. "I'm sorry you don't have your leg and Tor don't have his arm."
"It's okay, babe. I don't mind too much now, and Tor doesn't even remember what it's like to have two hands. What you didn't grow up having, you don't miss."
"Oh. Can I try your crutches, too?"
"If you want. I'll show you how a guy made me do it before I lost my leg for real. Go sit on your bunk and get my peg off."
I pull my forearm crutches from the cabinet where I store them and lean them against Mike's bunk. While I'm pulling Mike's jeans down and doubling his leg up inside them, I get a strong sense of déjà vu; the memories come back in a rush. I'm not sure I want to continue with this, but Mike asks me why I've stopped.
"You sure you want to try this?" I ask him.
"Yeah. Just once, anyway."
I pull him upright and get his arms in the crutches, then roll the empty part of his jeans leg up so he won't trip on it and fall. "There you go. Try walking." I stay ready to grab him if he starts to fall, but with his great sense of balance, he swings off easier than I did the first time.
After a few steps, he comes back and flops down on his bunk. "I didn't think it be so hard."
"You were pretty good for the first time. How'd you like to have to walk on crutches all the time?"
"Unh, unh. It's hard on the hands. Why don't you have the kind that fit under your arms?"
"Because you're supposed to walk with your weight on your hands, even with that kind. If you carry the weight under your arms, you can crush a nerve and then your arm would be paralyzed."
"I didn't know it was all that complicated."
"You've no reason to. Had enough?"
"Yeah. Thanks for showing me all this stuff." Mike looks thoughtful for a moment. "You know, dad, there might be something good about having one leg."
"Like what?"
"A pair of socks lasts twice as long and there wouldn't be that many to wash."
He might have a point there. Mike can go through more socks than any kid in creation. The hamper seems to stay full and he's always throwing some away because there are holes in the heel. If one of a pair is still good, I usually save it for myself.
Tor comes through the door just then. When he sees Mike sitting on his bunk holding my crutches and his jeans leg rolled up, he grabs my T-shirt in the hook and draws back his fist. "You sorry sonuvabitch," he snarls.
Mike jumps up and grabs his arm. "Don't hit dad. Please, Tor."
Tor drops his fist, but still holds my shirt. "What are you doing like that, Mike?"
"I asked dad what it was like to walk on crutches so he was showing me. He let me walk on his peg-leg, too. Why're you so mad?"
Tor lets me go and calms down. "I'm not, babe. It's just the guy that hurt Drew used to make him do what you're doing. I was scared Drew was doing the same to you."
"Hell, Tor, you know better than that."
"Yeah." He hugs me. "I'm sorry. It was all so sudden I didn't think." He looks at Mike. "You learn anything?"
Mike gives him a tentative smile. "A lot. I'm glad I've got all of me."
"We are, too. We love you, Mike."
There are times when if I didn't love Tor so much, I would wring his neck. I guess he thinks because I use the word-processing program on our computer, the proofreading is automatic. It's a job I hate, because no matter how I try I just can't catch all the typos on the screen. It takes a printout for some of them, particularly punctuation marks, to become evident. But as long as I've got to do it and it's one of those perfect spring days, I settle myself comfortably under the awning over the tiny deck we left aft to enjoy the gentle breeze and read the print-out of our latest work with a red pen in hand.
I hear someone call, "Andy!" It takes me a second to remember that's my name. When I look up I see Doug walking quickly down the dock.
"Doug! What are you doing here?"
"Ted's working out of town, so I decided to take a weekend off. When I saw the sign for the institute out on the highway, I remembered you were here. Do you realize it's been over four years since we've seen you?"
"I can't believe it, but that's how it is when you're busy. It's good to see you. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?
"Just coffee for now, if you've got the pot on. If you're not too busy to visit, you can catch me up."
"Not a thing that can't wait."
I get us coffee and we settle in for a long chat. I bring him up to date on our teaching, books, and start laying the background to tell him about Mike when Mike comes down the dock on his bike, whistling. He nods pleasantly to Doug and says, "Hi, dad," as he passes by to put his things away.
Doug gives me a startled look. "Did he call you dad?"
I nod. "Come here a minute, Mike. I want you to meet an old friend of mine."
"Okay."
He comes out a minute or so later. "Doug, this is Mike. Mike, Doug tried to help me out when I was about your age."
Mike's courteous, but after a few words with Doug, he excuses himself to practice his piano. I refill our coffee mugs.
"Is Mike the reason you and Tor haven't been to see us for so long?"
"That and our work. Having a kid in school ties you down. His psychologist told us to establish a strong sense of place for him before we started taking overnight trips."
"You have him under a psychologist?"
"The wife of the institute's director is a child psychologist. She and Dr. Curtis are the only ones who know about Mike and us. They're also his godparents. Before you ask, Mike's straight. That's one reason we asked her to help. He knows Tor and I are lovers and it doesn't bother him in the least. Most times he calls both of us dad."
"What about Tor?"
"He's as much into being a father as I am and he's tougher. Some of the little things I might let slide, Tor won't. Did you ever think he'd turn into a soccer fan from what you've seen of him? Mike's on the junior varsity, so we go to every game. We also have the kids here for a cook-out once in a while."
Doug looks at me longingly. "You're doing for Mike what Ted and I hoped to do for you. I'm glad it's worked out so well, especially for Mike. What's your situation legally?"
I must have shown my alarm, for he reassures me quickly. "I'm out of my jurisdiction and you can't possibly think I'd do anything to upset what you've accomplished with Mike. If you were abusing the boy or holding him against his will it would be entirely different."
After I explain the weak claims we've made in the trail of paperwork and the lies we've told to cover, Doug shakes his head. "I don't know how you've managed to carry it off."
"We wouldn't have if it hadn't been for the Curtises and the fact that we all stay too busy to socialize."
He gives me a thoughtful look. "Would it be possible for me to talk with Dr. Curtis and Mike?"
I almost say no before I remember I can trust Doug. "Sure. If you can stay for the weekend, I'll set it up. I'm sorry we can't offer you a bed."
"I understand and, yes, I'd like to stay. I'll get a room at the motel just down the road."
When I call Martha to explain about Doug, she immediately gives us all an invitation to dinner the next evening, saying she will talk to Doug privately afterward.
At dinner I know for certain that Tor and I made an impression on Mike, for even after I've told him about Doug, Ted, and how it was with me, he won't say a word to Doug until he okays it with me.
After dinner the next evening the three of them talk privately for over an hour. I don't know what they talked about, but when their talk is over Mike looks happy, Martha completely composed, and Doug looks plain smug.
To be continued...
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Posted: 09/14/07