“I guess,” Alex admitted reluctantly. “It isn’t like you have any real answers, though — no disrespect, Mr. Windsor.”
“Ah, but that’s just it!” Mr. Windsor cried out, as if he were thrilled by Alex’s answer. “Are the only questions you are interested in those that have already been answered?”
Alex snorted and turned to gather his things.
“You’re talking in circles, Mr. Windsor,” he said impatiently. “Any chance I can go? I might still have time for a shower and a meal before I have to go back to the gym.”
Mr. Windsor looked at him and smiled, the look on his face sad enough that Alex almost relented, until he remembered that this man was trying to teach him.
“What are you interested in, Alex?”
“What?” Alex snapped, exasperated by his persistence.
“It’s a simple question,” Mr. Windsor said expansively. “And any answer at all will do. In thirty years of teaching, I have yet to meet a student who wasn’t interested in something, Mr. Warner.”
Alex thought about it. He thought about it for a while, and then he got a bit worried. Eventually, he was forced to confess.
“I can’t… um. I can’t really think of anything, Mr. Windsor.”
Mr. Windsor shook his head.
“Come now. There must be something… I notice that you wear headphones every day when you come into class. You must like music?”
“I guess,” Alex shrugged. “I mostly like not having to talk, or listen to people, you know?”
“How about games, Alex? What kind of games do you play?”
Again, he had to stop to consider. It didn’t take long, though. There isn’t much to see in a blank sheet of paper.
“What do you mean? Like, video games, or something? Nah. I don’t really play games. I mean, I’ve played cards and stuff, and I could probably remember dominoes or checkers if you gave me a board and a few minutes. But, I can’t say that I’ve ever really been into them much…”
“Alex, I don’t mean to pry, but you’ve been institutionalized, haven’t you?”
Mr. Windsor’s voice was soft and kindly, but to Alex, it sounded treacherous. He couldn’t help but look longing at the exit.
“Now, now, don’t be angry,” Mr. Windsor said soothingly. “I have no idea what happened to you, and I don’t need to know. I’m familiar enough with the signs to recognize them when I see them. You aren’t the first student we’ve had that had a difficult background, you know. But, that is beside the point. You must have had a great deal of time to kill, then, in the institution. What did you do with it, Alex?”
Alex thought about it for a while, resenting Mr. Windsor the entire time. Why should he bother trying to please a teacher who couldn’t fail him? One who taught a class about nothing?
Especially, Alex thought, especially when he had such a terrible headache. Why did he have to get one now, of all times? He had to go to the gym in a little while, and now he felt like crap…
“Well, I, I mean it wasn’t like there was nothing to do, but…”
Alex’s mouth was dry, his hands were numb and his fingertips tingled. The area behind his eyes ached like a tooth gone bad, an ice-cold spike driven through his cerebrum. His mouth seemed to be working by itself, in the absence of any sign of his mental faculties returning.
“There wasn’t any one thing that I did especially…”
Alex had to go lie down. He was suddenly certain of it, and the very thought of putting his head on a pillow sounded so good then he actually
“I have to go lie down,” he mumbled, waving one hand in a vague sort of acknowledgment, or dismissal. Mr. Windsor watched him go stumbling out the door with a pained smile.
Alex shambled right past Rebecca, who sat with her eyes screwed closed in the front row of the lecture hall, without even a shred of recognition on his face. He almost tripped over her outstretched foot without acknowledging her existence. She didn’t open her eyes until after the classroom door slammed shut behind him.
“That was much worse than I was led to believe,” Mr. Windsor said plainly, taking off his glasses and rubbing the lenses against his shirt. “Did you send him away?”
“That was fucking dangerous, is what it was,” Rebecca grumbled, standing up. “You were told not to engage him unnecessarily. You’ve been warned about bringing up Alex’s past, or pushing him too hard.” She shook her head irritably. “Why did you bring me here today?”
“Why did you choose to hide your presence from him?” Windsor countered. “When did you learn how to do that? I am a bit impressed, actually. I thought it outside your capabilities.”
“I don’t answer your questions, Gerald,” Rebecca snapped. “You answer mine. Don’t forget who you are talking to. What did you want me to see here?”
“We are failing him,” Mr. Windsor said, hanging his head with the admission. “Surely it is obvious to you? Alexander Warner isn’t even a fraction of a person, not yet. He’s hardly even a beginning. And we aren’t giving him the kind of opportunities he needs in order to become whole. He isn’t capable of developing on his own, his disconnect goes too deep for that. Alex needs to be led out into the world gently, with patience and compassion. And we aren’t doing anything like that. We’re just teaching him how to kill people. Something he is almost certain to do, I might add, unless we give him the opportunity to do anything else with his prodigious talents.”
Rebecca tapped her foot impatiently.
“So, that’s it, huh? Remorse for Alex’s lost childhood? Or do you have some sort of rational reason for staging this little scene?”
“I thought you should know,” Mr. Windsor said plaintively. “Alex trusts you more than anyone else he’s ever met, you realize that? Rhetorical question, of course you are already aware. But, do you take the responsibility that comes with that trust seriously? I’ve never been sure with you, Rebecca.”
“Everyone trusts me because I am trustworthy, Alex included. You know, this was my favorite class when I was at the Academy,” Rebecca said fondly, sitting back down in the front row chair, “and you were my favorite teacher.”
“Then help me teach him, Rebecca,” Windsor pleaded. “At least give me the opportunity.”
Rebecca pursed her lips and looked away. After a little while, she shrugged uncomfortably, as if she wished she were somewhere else.
“Don’t waste your time,” she said curtly. “Worry about the ones that can be helped. Make Alex’s homeroom experience as easy as possible, you understand? Nothing challenging, no difficult questions.”
Mr. Windsor shook his head sadly, moving again to wipe his fogged-up glasses.
“Say,” he asked curiously, “did it get cold in here a minute ago?”
“Do you want to sleep for a little while, now, Alex?”
Alex’s face slowly contorted with the effort of thought. Speech was an even more involved process, and he managed little more than a grunt.
“Okay,” Rebecca nodded from where she sat, eyes closed, her knees pressed against Alex’s, holding both of his limp hands tightly. “You rest now, Alex. You don’t have to go to sleep if you don’t want to, and if you do decide to sleep, you can wake up whenever you feel ready. And when you wake up,” Rebecca added, opening her eyes and smiling at the boy affectionately, “do me a favor and feel better, okay?”
Alex may have nodded. Michael wasn’t sure, he couldn’t really see from where he sat, his chair tucked away in a corner of Rebecca’s cluttered and homey office. It might have simply been that she responded as if he had nodded.
Rebecca shook her head, and stood up, unsteadily. Michael fought back an urge to help her — he knew from long experience that was the last thing Rebecca wanted. She took a few deep breaths, then walked the short distance between the new couch Alex was sprawled on and the desk where her cigarettes were, one hand running along the wall for support. Michael waited in polite silence until she was sitting with a lit cigarette in her hand.
“Well? Anything?”
Rebecca blew smoke at the ceiling and shook her head curtly.
