Chapter 90: Frankenstein’s Monster

Tuesday, March 1, 1983

I actually wore makeup to school on Angie’s advice. Just a little, to conceal the worst of the bruises. She did an excellent job — even knowing it was there, I couldn’t see so much as a trace of it in the mirror.

School was about what I expected. This was March Madness for the second time, perhaps. I was the center of attention anywhere I went. Everyone I knew hugged me, shook my hand, kissed me, or — in at least a few cases — all three. Lizzie was one of those. Not much of a kiss, but ... it was Lizzie!

There were numerous Frankenstein jokes, and zombie jokes, and ... you name it. All of them felt very much like commiseration and sympathy, not malicious. Several people asked if I needed help. Fortunately, I didn’t.

Per Dr. Blair’s orders, I was restricted from P.E. until after Spring Break, and for up to two weeks more if my neck bothered me at all. Today, Mom picked me up at P.E. time to head to Dr. Reynolds’ office. Going now would make me miss as little class time as possible, at the cost of having fast food for lunch instead of cafeteria food. As much as that seems like a joke, cafeteria food often was better, if only a bit better.

Mom and I talked about my day so far. I told her about the Frankenstein jokes, and the zombie jokes. She initially was a bit annoyed, but calmed down when I made it clear that I was amused, not offended.

We arrived at Dr. Reynolds’ office and headed in. The receptionist found the right paperwork and had us sit, but we were only in the waiting room for a few minutes before we were called back. The nurse did most of the prep for the EEG, then left us.

A few minutes later, a familiar face appeared. One that I’d really hoped not to see again.

“Hello, Steve,” Dr. Reynolds said. “I thought I made it clear that we needed to stop meeting like this.”

I smiled, which — in retrospect — might not be my best move, what with all of the bruises, swelling, and my jaw and mouth not entirely cooperative. That Frankenstein’s Monster look again, no doubt.

She smiled back, anyway.

“I’ve been diligently trying to avoid it. Please don’t tell me that I need to wear a helmet driving around the neighborhood.”

She chuckled. “We’d be safer if we did, but we’d all have helmet hair. I’m not going that far, anyway. I’ve got your hospital readings here...”

She spread them out on a rolling table and pointed to one section, tapping a spot. “I think this might be a little more ... off ... than it was before. But, if you were concussed, it was a very little one. I asked you to come by so we can re-run the EEG on my equipment. It can’t hurt, and we’ll know where things stand.”

“Thanks, Doctor Reynolds.”

She smiled. “I’m told your girlfriend’s EEG was perfectly normal. She may have injured her neck — I wouldn’t know, really — but she didn’t strike her head, I don’t think.”

“That’s a relief!”

She started hooking up leads. There was an odd sound on the fourth one.

“This connector broke!” she said. “This has been happening more and more! I need to look at switching manufacturers. Anyway, give me just a few minutes and I’ll get this going,” she said, stepping out.

“I like her,” Mom said, “but I’d hoped not to see her again, all the same.”

“I was just thinking that,” I said. “Great minds think alike.”

“I’m no great mind, especially compared to you and Angie!” Mom said.

“You’re a lot smarter than you think you are,” I said. “And I’m not just flattering you. You really are.”

“Well ... thank you!” she said, blushing. “But I was never the student you two are.”

“That’s a totally different thing,” I said. “Grades are an indicator of a lot of things, but they don’t always mean you’re smart, and bad grades don’t always mean you’re not.”

She looked thoughtful, nodding. “I certainly knew people like that, so ... well ... thank you, in any case!”

Dr. Reynolds was back before long, bringing replacement leads. She finished wiring me up, turned down the lights, closed the door, and started the machine running. I knew the drill and zoned out the way she wanted, something I hadn’t done for the previous EEG.

Not too long later, she turned the lights back up. “All done,” Dr. Reynolds said. “Now, to see what’s what.”

She busied herself with the charts for a bit, then nodded. “I reviewed your old charts earlier. This isn’t a significant deviation from the average, but it’s noticeable. I think you might always have just a bit of an abnormality. But, then, people are individuals, and you might have always had this little quirk. In any case, there’s no sign of a concussion, and you’ve got as clean a bill of health as ever. Just ... please... try to avoid getting banged up! I know you had absolutely no control over this one, or the one before, but ... still! I don’t like seeing my patients again after I’m done with them!”

Mom chuckled. “We were just saying the same thing. We like you, but ... if we don’t see you again we’ll probably all be happier.”

“The perils of being a specialist, for a lot of specialties,” she said, smiling. “You really want your patients to just stay away! That means they’re healthy!”

“Thank you for coming over here,” Mom said.

She shrugged, then grinned. “I get paid for it. It was nice to see you, just ... also ... not. I should ask — how have you been?”

“Great,” I said. “Straight A’s, great girlfriend, and doing really well in Debate. I’m in Drama now, acting and singing, and on the Student Council, and ... well. I’m just busy!”

“Wonderful! That’s such good news! I love to hear that my patients are doing great things.”

“I could credit you ... or your specialty ... with some of it,” I said.

“I might be afraid to ask, but ... how?” she said, smiling.

“As far as I know, I couldn’t sing much at all before the concussion. Suddenly, I could sing really well! Perhaps it knocked whatever controls singing into the proper place.”

She chuckled. “I can’t say that I’ve heard of that particular thing, but there are some very strange cases of head-injury patients gaining skills or abilities they didn’t have before. Rare! Very rare! Not a recommended way to get better at something! But it does happen, at least sometimes, in the literature.”

“I doubt we’ll ever know,” I said.

She nodded. “Just don’t try to replicate it! And, with that, I have other patients to see, so ... so long, and hopefully that’s goodbye!”

“Goodbye, Doctor Reynolds,” Mom said, smiling.

“Nice seeing you,” I said. “And hope to not see you again!”

She left, chuckling.

“Such good news,” Mom said, as I was picking gunk out of my hair.

“Yes,” I said. “I didn’t feel messed up, but it’s much better to know that I’m not.”

Once I’d gotten the worst of the gunk cleaned up, we headed off to the car.

As planned, Mom drove to the nearest Jack In The Box and I got a burger, some fries, and a Diet Coke. Yes, that’s a bit of a joke in the future, but ... cheeseburger or not, why add a whole bunch of unnecessary sugar?

As we drove back, Mom said, “Sam and I talked, and — if you’re still interested — we’d like to do that aptitude testing soon. He says they can get us in the Saturday after Spring Break, if you’ll be back by then.”

“Our plan was to be back by then, so that works.”

“Jasmine’s welcome, of course.” Mom hesitated, then hesitated a little more. I could only tell she had more by the fact that her face was reddening just a bit. Finally, she said, “Paige, too, if she’s interested.”

“Might be early for that, Mom. Might not. I don’t know. We could certainly ask.”

She sighed. “I’m trying, and ... I think I’m doing ... okay. Pretty good. I haven’t talked to your father yet, but I will. It’s so foreign to me, but ... I like Paige, and ... it’s just ... I can’t say there’s anything wrong with Angie. And I feel like I should be able to say that, but I just ... can’t.”

I decided to take a few steps into deeper waters. It couldn’t hurt, really. Well, it could, but I thought it wouldn’t. “Mom, here’s an idea. Look at a Bible reference book, or ... well, even ask Doctor Ott or someone else, if you have to, but it might be better to do it on your own. Find out which passages people say condemn those behaviors, and read them yourself, carefully. See if you think that’s what the writer was saying — if that’s what you think God was saying. I know that quite a few people who’ve spent their lives studying the Bible say that’s what they mean, but others disagree, and one of Martin Luther’s main points was that people should read the Bible and understand it for themselves.”

She nodded. “I ... can do that. That sounds like a good thing to do.”

“Also, just remember, we pick and choose Old Testament rules now. We eat shellfish, and ham and bacon, and we wear clothing of mixed fabrics. Those, and a lot of other things, are forbidden. The Church teaches that Jesus freed us from the strictures of the law, but it’s unclear which ones we were freed from and which still matter. Similarly, Paul says that women shouldn’t wear gold jewelry, but that’s not a problem for any church that I know of, though there’s likely one out there.”

“That’s also a good point.”

“You know I respect Doctor Ott a great deal, and of course you and Dad. I don’t want to undermine anything. But, if this is who Angie is, I don’t want it to become an issue.”

She sighed again. “I don’t either. I love her, Steve. More than I even thought I would, when she came here, and I really, really hoped I would, and that we’d form a real family. But she’s as precious to me as if she was my own flesh and blood, and so are you, and ... I can’t let this come between us. I can’t! I’m trying. It’s strange, and I don’t know why she would choose that...”

“You’re thinking of it as a choice, Mom. I don’t think it is. Why would someone make a choice that might make them an outcast and make their life harder? I mean, obviously, Angie can date boys, but that doesn’t mean that’s who she is, or the only thing she is, or ... whatever. I think people are who they are, and sometimes they’re different than most people. That’s okay. It seems to me that, if they were just choosing to be sinful and hedonistic, you’d see that come out in other ways, not just who they love. Lizzie isn’t a hedonist in any way that I can see. She’s not particularly a ‘sinner’ in any way that I can name, since I don’t count liking girls instead of boys.”

“That’s ... interesting. And, I mean ... we’re all sinners, of course, but ... I know what you mean. That it seems like choosing to willfully be a sinner would beget more and more sinning. And ... Angie is a good person! She’s a really good person. It’s hard, but ... you’re helping. Both of you.”

“I’m glad, Mom. And I’m glad that we can talk about it.”