The Legend of Bastien - Chapter 8 – Home School – Part 1 of 2

 

The Legend of Bastien

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 8 – Home School – Part 1 of 2

 

The old alarm clock buzzed at six a.m.  Tess opened her eyes, but she was so drained she could barely move.  The alarm continued to buzz for a few more moments before she found the strength to reach over and turn it off.  Was death better than this?  Tess was sure it was.  But even though her son had said he didn’t care if he died, she cared…for him.  As for herself, she no longer cared at all. 

She had hit her son last night, brutally!  She had hit him again and again.  Would he ever understand how much each blow she gave him had hurt her just as much?  She doubted that.  Did he blame her for what she was forced to do?  She didn’t know, but she certainly thought it was possible.

Six a.m.  On a Saturday.  And she was awake.  She was awake, because one of the town deputies was coming for her son at ten o’clock that morning, which gave her only four hours to prepare him.  It wasn’t enough time.  Not nearly enough.  But then, an entire lifetime might never be enough.  As bad as his life had been these last few days, and as bad as last night had been, all she could think about was that she was now about to make his life so much worse.  But making his life worse was the only way she could see to keep him alive.  He was her son, and she was desperate to see him live, and somehow survive all of this.  She would do anything she possibly could to make that happen.  Unfortunately, now it also meant that she had to hurt him too.  But would he understand how much it hurt her as well?

She got out of bed and pulled her robe on, but a sound out in the living room caught her attention.  Was Chris up?  She hurried to the living room to see.  She was shocked to notice one of the town deputies coming through the door.  A different deputy than the one she had seen last night.  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“Sorry to wake you, Tess,” the deputy replied.  “The sheriff called last night and said he wants us making random checks on you and your son whenever we get the chance.”

Random checks?  Tess nearly died.  She followed him into Chris’s bedroom.  She watched as the deputy looked around, particularly at the two baby bottles sitting on the nightstand, one full, and the other one empty.  A few moments later, he was gone.  Was it possible that there had been more visits during the night that she didn’t know about?  The word random he had spoken seemed to scream at her.  It meant that one of those deputies could literally walk in on them at any time at all.  What if she was allowing him to do something that didn’t meet all their miserable requirements?  She had no doubt at all that was the main reason why the sheriff was doing random checks now.

A thought occurred to her.  The sheriff really just wanted to put a bullet into her son’s brain.  She got the feeling that the additional harassment wasn’t the sheriff’s idea, but more likely, his wife’s!  Or…Olivia’s.  Or both!  Either way, she had no doubt that she would be seeing some of those deputies often.  She supposed that she should have been grateful that neither of those deputies had woken Chris up and made him…do his official town job.

She tore her eyes away from her closed front door and headed into Chris’s room.  She turned his bedroom light on and woke him up.  The moment his eyes opened she saw fear in them.  “Shh,” she whispered.  “I needed to wake you so we can start getting you ready for today.”  He didn’t answer.  He just looked at her.  Was that mistrust, or hatred in his eyes?  She prayed it wasn’t hatred.  Like it or not, she knew she had no choice but to force him to do what the Bastiens were now requiring.  She pulled the covers off him.  “Come on,” she said.  She stood back and watched as he reluctantly got out of bed.

“Are you wet?” she asked.

“No.”  A moment later, he added, “But I’ve got to pee something fierce!”

He started heading toward the bathroom, but she grabbed his arm.  “Better not!” she told him.  “It seems the sheriff has added another little wrinkle to what we found out last night.  Random checks by his deputies.  We had another one in here just a few minutes ago.”

“Another one?”

“One last night too, after you were asleep.”

“If this one is gone, then why can’t I just pee in the toilet?”

“Like I said, better not.  My bet is that the sheriff is trying to do everything he can to make your life as bad as possible.  He’s looking for any excuse at all to just kill us both instead of bothering with this whole mess.”

“Then why doesn’t he just shoot us instead of making me do all this?”

“That’s just what he wants to do.  I don’t know why his father won’t let him.”

Chris shook his head then looked at her.  “I don’t care if he kills me.  At this point, I don’t care if live or die.  It’s you I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“Chris,” Tess said, “If he kills you, it would hurt me more than anything.  But if that’s the way you want to look at it, then fine.  The one and only thing I don’t want is to lose is you.  So if you have to do all this to keep him from hurting me, then fine.  Just stay alive…for me!”

Chris grunted, then looked at the clock by his bedside.  “It’s Saturday.  Why are we up so early?”

“To start getting you ready.”

“They’re not supposed to come for me until ten!”

“Chris, think!  We’ve only got that long to teach you a whole lot of stuff that’s going to be nearly impossible.  Do you think I enjoyed hitting you last night?”  She saw the look in his eyes, but she couldn’t read it.  “Chris, in case you didn’t realize it, every single time I had to hit you, it hurt me worse than it hurt you!”

“I doubt it,” he mumbled.

“Trust me, Chris, it did!”

He looked down at the floor, then sat gingerly on his bed.  “Yeah.  I know you didn’t want to.  I know the sheriff was forcing you to.  He’s mean!”

“Yes.  He is.  Very!  All that was for only two demerits.  If anyone hears you make a mistake when you say anything today, how many demerits do you think you’ll have by bedtime?  Twenty?  Fifty?  More?  Do you want to go through that for fifty demerits?”

He looked up at her with fear in his eyes.  “No thanks!”

“Then we better get busy.”

With a shake of his head, he forced himself back to his feet and headed for the living room.  She grabbed his arm, stopping him.  “Chris,” she said softly.  “If you need to pee so badly, don’t hold it in.  There’s no need for you to suffer with that problem too.  You’re wearing a diaper.”

“But that doesn’t…”

“I know!  You don’t want to.  All I’m saying is that it’s going to come out of you one way or another.  And with all these random checks they’ve got going now, we don’t dare let you use the bathroom.  Get comfortable.”

“Comfortable?  In a wet diaper?”

“Is it that bad?” she asked.  “I honestly want to know, because I don’t know.”

He shook his head.  “Not really.  It takes a few minutes, but eventually it barely feels like I’m wet anymore.”

“That would be the diaper wicking all that up.  So, at least it’s livable.”

He nodded.  “Yeah, but the thing gets…I guess thicker or something.  Heavier.”

“Okay.  At least it’s livable.  It was just a suggestion,” she told him.  “Do what you want.”

He looked at her for a moment, then turned away from her and stood still.  She was about to tell him to head for the kitchen when she realized the reason he was standing still.  He was wetting himself then and there.  “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she whispered as she walked past him.

She stoked the stove with more wood and filled the kettle she kept on top of it with water so it could heat.  By that time, Chris had sat himself down at the kitchen table.  She grabbed the Addendum paper the sheriff had read last night and joined him.  “Chris,” she started.

“Mom!” he said, stopping her.  “I was awake a lot last night and all I could think about was what would happen if I tried to talk like that.  It’s going to make me sound like a total idiot.”

“I believe that’s the whole point,” Tess replied.  “Chris, you’re smart.  Very smart.  Most likely, too smart for the Bastien’s to deal with.  So now they’re doing everything possible to try to lower your intelligence.”

“You can’t lower someone’s intelligence,” he replied.

Tess leaned across the table and whispered.  “No, you can’t, but they’re going to make it look that way.  It won’t take long before the entire town thinks you’re a raving idiot.”

“I’m sure they do already.”

“Yes.  But like you said, they can’t actually make you dumber…lower your intelligence.  Chris, hang onto that.  Use it!  You’re bright.  Very intelligent.  Much more than me.  Look for some way to get out of this, because I for sure don’t see one.”

“Huh!  That’s easy, let the sheriff kill me.”

“No!  Anything but that.  Anything!”

He sat there and stared at her.  “I know,” he replied.

“Then let’s get started.”

“I’ve thought about this all night,” he said.  “It’s going to be difficult.”

“Yes.  That’s why we’re up so early.  Practice!  It’s either that or fifty demerits.  Or more!”

He nodded.  “Yeah.”  His eyes gained a bit of sparkle.  “Hey, I can say that with no problem.  Yeah.”  He shook his head.  “But I can’t say the word yes…yeth.” He tried, using the required substitution.

“Yeah,” she nodded.  “Now let’s start with something you might have to say at some point today.  Olivia Bastien hinted that she planned on seeing you soon, so try saying this…hello, Mrs. Bastien.”

Very hesitantly, Chris said, “He-woow,” and he stopped.  He tried the word again.  “He-wo.”  He shook his head.  “I keep wanting to put another W on the end of it.”

“I have no doubt that will be perfectly fine.  Go ahead, try it again.  “He-woow, mmmith-iith.”  He paused then started the last word.  “Baa-tht-iien.”  He shook his head.  “This is so hard.  I have to think about how every single word is spelled and kind of take it like, only one syllable at a time.”

“Good idea!” she told him.  “Do that.  Just speak one syllable at a time and take it slow.  Just keep thinking about what you need to say.”

“But it will take me forever just to say anything!”

“So what?  Let them wait.  It’s their damn rules.  Besides, their entire reason was to make you sound stupid.  So talking a lot slower won’t matter in the least.  Now say it again.  Hello Mrs. Bastien.”

“He-wwoow mith-thuth Bath-tien.”

“Good!  Now it will be a deputy that picks you up.  What will you say?”

“Nothing…if I can help it.”

“Right.  Exactly.  But what if he insists.  How will you greet him?”

“Not the way I want to.”

A little while later, while Chris was slowly making his way through different words, Tess got up and grabbed the kettle from the stove.  She poured the hot water over top of a teabag in her cup.  When Chris finally finished the sentence he had been working on, she turned to him.  “Good!” she told him.  She held up the kettle.  “Hot chocolate?” she asked.

Chris nodded.  “Yes!”

“No!” she said.  “Say it right…the way you have to now.”

“Ugh!” Chris grunted unhappily.

“Practice,” she told him.  “Get used to it.”

He grunted again, the said, “Yeth!”

She nodded and set the kettle down on the counter.  She went back to the table and sat down.  “Chris,” she said, “I’m so afraid of what all these new rules are going to mean for you.  You’re going to have to be consistent and never let your guard down – ever!  From now on, you’re going to need to talk only the way they want you to, no matter what the situation.  Even if it’s just here with you and me.  You’ve got to get so used to it that it becomes second nature to you.  That’s the only way you’re going to get through this without getting beaten to death every single night.  And you know, no that matter what, you’re still going to get hit ten times.  And if the deputy is anything like the sheriff was last night, then you know how much it’s going to hurt.  Chris, from now on, we won’t ever be able to hold a normal conversation again!  We don’t dare!”

Chris stared at her.  “Yeah.  I can see that.”

“No!  Say it right!”

“Later.”

“No.  Now.  Say it right!”

“Yeah,” he said with more than a hint of irritation.  “I can thee dat.”

She smiled.  “Very good.  Now I’ll get you some hot chocolate.”

Chris watched as she went back to the counter.  But when he saw her picking up one of the baby bottles, he stopped her.  “No!  Not if I have to drink it from…that!”

“Chris, what if a deputy walks in and sees you drinking from anything else?”

“Don’t bother then.  I don’t want any.”

She shook her head.  “I’ll fix it for you anyway.  If you drink any, it will be up to you.”

“Not likely.”

Tess fixed the hot chocolate for him and poured it into the baby bottle.  She set the bottle on the table in front of him where she saw him eyeing the thing unhappily.  She couldn’t blame him in the least.  “Okay,” she said.  “Try this sentence.  My mother works at the bank.”

Chris could already see lots of problems with that little sentence.

 

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