Categories > Original > Drama > Separation
February 2, 1978
Ray did as he was told, tried his hardest at rehab sessions, but it was slow work, something impossible to rush. Even with the knowledge that everyone was counting on him, that a second sudden disappearance would look bad, that the rest of his undeserving extended family would be disgraced, there were days when he thought about reaching around, grabbing the multi-colored plastic jug handle protruding from his neck, and yanking it out. They had learned to live without him once, they could do so again.
"Is it wrong?" he asked.
"Is what wrong," Dr. Karl returned, adjusting his thick glasses.
"To be, well, upset like this. I should be happy I'm still alive, that I'm not completely helpless, that I can still move to some degree, that my family took me back. I'll be taken care of by the NSA and by people that love me... So why do I feel so miserable?"
"Your body is still recovering," Dr. Karl soothed. "It will take time for it to balance itself out again."
Ray stiffly shook his head. "No, I mean..." A pause as he swallowed hard, steeling himself against words not yet said. "I mean... I'm not Super anymore. I'm normal. Just like everyone else. There is nothing special or interesting about me now. There may never be again. As much trouble as my powers gave me...I never wanted them gone..."
Another long pause.
"Is that selfish?"
There was silence for the space of a few minutes while Dr. Straussen contemplated his answer.
“I think it is perfectly natural for you to feel disappointed. You had control of your powers for a short time. All of us were only just beginning to understand them. You are the oldest Clairvoyant on record, Raymond, and that is something to be proud of.” He offered the boy a smile and Ray did his best to return it.
“No,” Dr. Karl went on, “I do not think it is selfish to miss your abilities. Many of my non-super patients feel the same way when I tell them they must stop playing football or eating cheeseburgers. They feel as if their one joy in life has been stolen away from them, yet they know they must give it up if they want to live. You know in your head that you have a good life waiting for you. It will be difficult to fill the time you once devoted to do-gooding, but there are other ways to satisfy your desire to help. Volunteer, give of your time; it isn’t glamorous, but average men and women can help one another just as much as a man in a mask and tights. Pray, be patient, give yourself some time. Your calling and your path to it will become clear. For now, just concentrate on getting better, /ja/?”
“Yeah.”
It had been such a long time since anyone had talked behind his back, especially within hearing range. He wasn’t asleep, though the drug fog of pain killer had left him pleasantly groggy. Still, it didn’t make the not-quite-hushed voices in the hallway any less audible. The words “depression”, “trauma”, and “therapy” were tossed about by various speakers. Lying silently, eyes only half-open, he tried to pick out who was saying what? Someone was sniffling, he could almost smell the old-fashioned perfume as a stiffly starched handkerchief was rearranged to dab gently at a nose. His mother. What on earth did she have to be crying about? A gruff husking of a voice not quite low enough to manage an honest growl entered the conversation. Short, clipped sentences punctuated by stony silence indicated it was his father. Always giving orders. A softer, more fluid voice countered the Senator’s staccato grumblings, the slant of the words belying more comfort in a language not English. That had to be Dr. Karl.
The voices were still too low and too distant to make out the finer details of the conversation, but “friends” and “visitors” uttered in a thick accent found their way to his ears. “Rest” and “peace” from his father, “best interest” from his mother… Something about “morale” and “recovery” in a deadly serious tone from Dr. Karl that made even the sniffling stop short. Ray would have liked to try and eavesdrop a bit more, but the fog was growing thicker and it wasn’t long before he became lost in it completely.
Although he’d gleaned little more than hints from the previous day’s conversation, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Dr. Karl announced that a new therapist had been added to the small legion of specialists attempting to get Ray in working condition again. It was, however, a bit of a shock to discover that said therapist had a very familiar face.
“…Eddy?”
The last time he’d seen Eddy had been in high school. One of very few allies and fewer friends he’d had growing up, Eddy had been at his side much the way Leah had. It had been ages, but despite being a bit taller, a bit less of a fashion disaster- as they both had once been- Eddy looked much as he had when they were both eighteen.
“Hey, Ray,” Eddy smiled, reaching and taking one of Ray’s lifeless hands to shake. Expecting to feel nothing, Ray started slightly as warmth radiated from Eddy’s palm into his own hand and up his arm. It reminded him of dunking frost-bitten fingers in warm dishwater after an afternoon out in the snow, and sent a warm shiver down his spine. Ray couldn’t help the small moan of relief that escaped as the warmth continued to climb up his arm and spread into his chest. Dr. Karl, standing and watching, just smiled.
“Better?” Eddy asked, both big hands still clasped around Ray’s.
“Yeah…” The word was panted, breathless, as if he’d just come inside after being out in a biting wind. “I never…” He didn’t dare finish the sentence. Not here, not in enemy territory. How he had missed the fact that Eddy was a Member too, he didn’t know, but it was damn good to know that one other person knew. Knew, and had survived successfully.
“Well, you know how my folks always wanted me to go into medicine,” Eddy replied, purposely leading the conversation into the mundane. “Therapy’s a little less hazardous than surgery, and I feel like I’m doing more good as a personal trainer than I would slicing and dicing in an operating room.”
Eddy’s parents and Ray’s had been close colleagues even before their respective sons had been born. A burgeoning heart surgeon and a promising statesman both attending the same small church, it was only natural that their families should become friends. Evidently, Eddy had been able to keep his secret better than Ray had managed, but his parent’s weren’t entirely pleased with his choice of vocation either. Calling sometimes tended to supersede all else. It could be annoying and inconvenient, but there was no way to ignore it. Supers hadn’t truly been banned, just driven underground. Thank God Eddy had found a constructive outlet for his own gift. One more ally, one more friend, at least one more person he could really trust.
Ray did as he was told, tried his hardest at rehab sessions, but it was slow work, something impossible to rush. Even with the knowledge that everyone was counting on him, that a second sudden disappearance would look bad, that the rest of his undeserving extended family would be disgraced, there were days when he thought about reaching around, grabbing the multi-colored plastic jug handle protruding from his neck, and yanking it out. They had learned to live without him once, they could do so again.
"Is it wrong?" he asked.
"Is what wrong," Dr. Karl returned, adjusting his thick glasses.
"To be, well, upset like this. I should be happy I'm still alive, that I'm not completely helpless, that I can still move to some degree, that my family took me back. I'll be taken care of by the NSA and by people that love me... So why do I feel so miserable?"
"Your body is still recovering," Dr. Karl soothed. "It will take time for it to balance itself out again."
Ray stiffly shook his head. "No, I mean..." A pause as he swallowed hard, steeling himself against words not yet said. "I mean... I'm not Super anymore. I'm normal. Just like everyone else. There is nothing special or interesting about me now. There may never be again. As much trouble as my powers gave me...I never wanted them gone..."
Another long pause.
"Is that selfish?"
There was silence for the space of a few minutes while Dr. Straussen contemplated his answer.
“I think it is perfectly natural for you to feel disappointed. You had control of your powers for a short time. All of us were only just beginning to understand them. You are the oldest Clairvoyant on record, Raymond, and that is something to be proud of.” He offered the boy a smile and Ray did his best to return it.
“No,” Dr. Karl went on, “I do not think it is selfish to miss your abilities. Many of my non-super patients feel the same way when I tell them they must stop playing football or eating cheeseburgers. They feel as if their one joy in life has been stolen away from them, yet they know they must give it up if they want to live. You know in your head that you have a good life waiting for you. It will be difficult to fill the time you once devoted to do-gooding, but there are other ways to satisfy your desire to help. Volunteer, give of your time; it isn’t glamorous, but average men and women can help one another just as much as a man in a mask and tights. Pray, be patient, give yourself some time. Your calling and your path to it will become clear. For now, just concentrate on getting better, /ja/?”
“Yeah.”
It had been such a long time since anyone had talked behind his back, especially within hearing range. He wasn’t asleep, though the drug fog of pain killer had left him pleasantly groggy. Still, it didn’t make the not-quite-hushed voices in the hallway any less audible. The words “depression”, “trauma”, and “therapy” were tossed about by various speakers. Lying silently, eyes only half-open, he tried to pick out who was saying what? Someone was sniffling, he could almost smell the old-fashioned perfume as a stiffly starched handkerchief was rearranged to dab gently at a nose. His mother. What on earth did she have to be crying about? A gruff husking of a voice not quite low enough to manage an honest growl entered the conversation. Short, clipped sentences punctuated by stony silence indicated it was his father. Always giving orders. A softer, more fluid voice countered the Senator’s staccato grumblings, the slant of the words belying more comfort in a language not English. That had to be Dr. Karl.
The voices were still too low and too distant to make out the finer details of the conversation, but “friends” and “visitors” uttered in a thick accent found their way to his ears. “Rest” and “peace” from his father, “best interest” from his mother… Something about “morale” and “recovery” in a deadly serious tone from Dr. Karl that made even the sniffling stop short. Ray would have liked to try and eavesdrop a bit more, but the fog was growing thicker and it wasn’t long before he became lost in it completely.
Although he’d gleaned little more than hints from the previous day’s conversation, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Dr. Karl announced that a new therapist had been added to the small legion of specialists attempting to get Ray in working condition again. It was, however, a bit of a shock to discover that said therapist had a very familiar face.
“…Eddy?”
The last time he’d seen Eddy had been in high school. One of very few allies and fewer friends he’d had growing up, Eddy had been at his side much the way Leah had. It had been ages, but despite being a bit taller, a bit less of a fashion disaster- as they both had once been- Eddy looked much as he had when they were both eighteen.
“Hey, Ray,” Eddy smiled, reaching and taking one of Ray’s lifeless hands to shake. Expecting to feel nothing, Ray started slightly as warmth radiated from Eddy’s palm into his own hand and up his arm. It reminded him of dunking frost-bitten fingers in warm dishwater after an afternoon out in the snow, and sent a warm shiver down his spine. Ray couldn’t help the small moan of relief that escaped as the warmth continued to climb up his arm and spread into his chest. Dr. Karl, standing and watching, just smiled.
“Better?” Eddy asked, both big hands still clasped around Ray’s.
“Yeah…” The word was panted, breathless, as if he’d just come inside after being out in a biting wind. “I never…” He didn’t dare finish the sentence. Not here, not in enemy territory. How he had missed the fact that Eddy was a Member too, he didn’t know, but it was damn good to know that one other person knew. Knew, and had survived successfully.
“Well, you know how my folks always wanted me to go into medicine,” Eddy replied, purposely leading the conversation into the mundane. “Therapy’s a little less hazardous than surgery, and I feel like I’m doing more good as a personal trainer than I would slicing and dicing in an operating room.”
Eddy’s parents and Ray’s had been close colleagues even before their respective sons had been born. A burgeoning heart surgeon and a promising statesman both attending the same small church, it was only natural that their families should become friends. Evidently, Eddy had been able to keep his secret better than Ray had managed, but his parent’s weren’t entirely pleased with his choice of vocation either. Calling sometimes tended to supersede all else. It could be annoying and inconvenient, but there was no way to ignore it. Supers hadn’t truly been banned, just driven underground. Thank God Eddy had found a constructive outlet for his own gift. One more ally, one more friend, at least one more person he could really trust.
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