“Jack’s been back at school late-“
“Again? That’s unlike him.” Retorted the Year 12 boy, Charlie, with a sarcastic quip.
“-he’s part of Chess Club, you know this,” finished the mother of two, June, with pride in her voice. “We just have to pick him up then we’ll be on the way home.” June stared at the road ahead of her, sparing a glance for the young man aside from her. Charlie was her eldest son, and there was a certain guilty degree of favouritism that came with that, but she couldn’t help but feel like his younger brother by one year, Jack, was doing more with his time at school.
“Yeah well the sooner home the better. I’ve got quite a bit to knock off tonight. SAC tomorrow and I’ve got to send some emails and stuff too. Won’t get a chance on the weekend, Saturday I’m at the nursing home pretty much all day then there’s the fete on Sunday.” He stared bleakly at the window.
Her face turned a wry smile. He might not join as many clubs as Jack but he certainly didn’t waste his weekends.
June sometimes was contacted by teachers about Jack, but never the councillor. The persistent clicking of her heels on the polished hallway floors that took her to the councillor’s office had done nothing to calm her mind, and by the time she reached the small foyer to the office, she was quite on edge. She strutted past a few mop-haired boys, with ripped and dirty tracksuits and wrinkled uniform as she crossed the foyer to the office where Jack was. She could not stand boys like them, lounging around, no doubt up to no good, almost certainly sent here by the headmaster.
“Mrs Comstock,” greeted the pleasant-faced man, “thank you for coming at such short notice, Jack here is fine he was just a little overwhelmed is all. I think a little time to unwind in the evenings would do wonders.” He guided Jack out the door and gestured for him to retrieve his bag. Once he was out of earshot, the gentleman continued in a lower voice. “I found him in the library afterschool, where he is always. He was nigh on hysterical though, flipping through book to book and shaking his head and murmuring to himself. I think he’s bottling up tension from all this work. You need to watch out for him.”
June nodded guiltily. She knew. As she walked back to her Lexus, where Jack was waiting, she passed the boys again.
“What’s ‘is deal ay? Gone loopy fillin his head with those books all day every day?” Jabbed the oiliest, scruffiest of the delinquents. June blanched. Another of them spoke.
“Oi shut up, his mum’s gonna hit you with her gym membership by the looks of ‘er. Or maybe with that-“. His lewd comment was mercifully silenced by the third boy, but the damage was done.
“How dare you insult him? You should follow his example and do something with your life, instead of… instead of lazing around and getting sent to the councillor for God knows what.” June shot back, livid. She shuddered with disgust and righteous anger.
Ring! Ring! The doorbell sounded, and June composed herself on the way to the door. As a psychiatrist, it would be very unprofessional of her to project her woes onto her clients. Standing slightly hunched, and a little downcast was one of her clients, and old man named Peter. Peter was a very wealthy businessman, who was only a year or two from retirement, and on paper everything was going for him. He owned houses, brands, cars – he was living the dream. At least that’s what everyone saw. Everyone except June. Peter had only two years ago lost his wife to a tragic car accident, and with his adult son missing in action his wife had been his only immediate family. They’d been planning their retirement together for years. Now he hadn’t the heart go through with it without her.
“Come on in Peter, make yourself at home.” She smiled warmly and ushered the man to a deep, leather lounge. He sat and looked to her to start conversation. There was always something he wanted to talk about, but she had to find it. Such was their game. It was a game, one they enjoyed very much and over the course of the hour she saw him go from the weary, forlorn old man she greeted at the door to a boisterous, lively spirit longing for… longing for family. She was the closest thing he had to family. Some of her friends – her closest friends – thought it a waste of her life, entertaining the loneliness of some old man. A waste? They spent in commute twice the time she spent enriching others’ lives. She dedicated herself to helping others, and sure, she made less money, but surely she was making more of her life.
Another car trip out, yet another evening pilgrimage of flashing lights whizzing past like bullets as she hurlted down the highway. Throbbing behind her eyes. Thinking of something else. Got distracted, in the wrong lane. Horns and headlights, swerving, impact –
And then silence.
A couple of days later, when she awoke, June found herself drifting in and out of consciousness. She was immobile for a week yet, and as the doctors told her, unlikely to be out for a couple of weeks while she recovered. Broken ribs and punctured organs, she was told. A fairly small price to pay for a high-speed car crash.
“City Theatre? Really? Those tickets must’ve cost a bit.” Charlie was pleasantly surprised that June had announced they would all be spending the evening at the Theatre. She’d had some time to think while in hospital. She could’ve died. Would she have looked back at her life with pride? Working, driving, working, driving, Facebook, sleep. No, life was to be lived.
The play ended 2 hours later, leaving June feeling misty-eyed and happy. The street urchin, through goodwill and some luck, had taken control of his life and got the girl. As the curtains closed, the director walked out onto the stage.
“Hello, everyone, thank you. Thank you for coming. Before I acknowledge the many partners that made this possible, I’d like to take a second to highlight some young men.” From the curtain, three boys came forward. It couldn’t be, June thought, the same boys from the waiting room? – but it was. “Only a matter of months ago my friend Mark approached me, telling me about some boys at the school where he worked as a psychiatrist. Excluded, having trouble keeping up, they were falling behind. One thing they were annoyingly good at was imitating their fellow students and teachers. So much so that Mark asked me if I would audition them. Despite mutual trepidation, I couldn’t help but be amazed by these young men. Tonight, I’m sure you’ve all felt the same. They have absolutely turned around and made something good of their lives. A round of applause.”
Distilled Orthopraxy 