The Mind Man

Chapter four

Having been freed by a sympathetic patron of the roadhouse, Adam limped to his home and crawled painfully into bed. Sleep eluded him for most of that night. He struggled for a posture which offered the most comfort to his battered body. When he did drift off, the visions of the railroad crossing returned to his mind yet again; the beetles and moths hurling themselves at the hot light eventually adding to the pile of tiny carcasses in the dust below; the town lights illuminating the drifting foggy haze that draped over the endless expanses of wheat and the grain silos standing ghostly in the soft light. He again noted Caren's presence, standing across from him with the same air of expectancy. The same bicycle soon wobbled out of the soupy mist. The slow motions of the peddling, the stare, the demonic laughter and the eerie disappearance back into the night.

The next morning Adam gathered his books from his locker and flung the door shut. His body still ached and he was angry. His lip was sore and the left side of his face below the eye hurt to touch. His excuse for the bruising was a fall from his bike while doing errands for his father.

When he turned for the classroom he saw Roxley's slender frame loping casually towards him down the corridor. While he deliberated on an escape route to avoid further confrontation, Roxley was suddenly upon him. Their eyes locked momentarily and Adam braced himself for the ridicule that would surely come. He expected his swollen and bruised face to be a source of mirth, and the embarrassment he had suffered the previous evening mocked and ridiculed, but nothing came. The arrogance was gone from Roxley's face. Instead, he looked tired and his eyes were shifty and lacked their intensity. He continued walking past in easy strides and finally he looked away and was lost amongst the rush of students heading to class.

***

"You've wasted your time coming over here Miss...er..." Mr. Henderson struggled with the unfamiliar surname.

"Pawlowski."

"Miss Pawlowski. I should know what's best for my son, don't you think?"

Miss Pawlowski glanced around the room she was seated in. It looked bare and uninviting. A couple of vinyl covered chairs faced a small wooden coffee table, an old wireless cabinet sat in one corner and a small Philips television set was in another. The walls were covered in peeling wallpaper which suggested a pattern from a past era and the bare timber floor looked worn and dusty. Mr. Henderson sat opposite her in an old reclining chair. Mrs. Henderson had placed her ample body on a tired looking lounge under a lamp stand and was quietly knitting what looked like a cardigan.

"I am concerned for your boy. He wants to go on to grade eleven..."

"That's just a fantasy he's got." Mr. Henderson interrupted strongly. "He has a job at the granary when he leaves school and from what you're telling me the end of the school year can't come quickly enough. Then he can go out and earn a living like everyone else and get on with his life."

"What sort of a life is that for a boy? He is bright enough to achieve whatever he desires."

"We don't have the money for him to sit in a classroom for the rest of his days learning rubbish which is useless to him in the real world. Besides, what was good enough for me is good enough for him."

Miss Pawlowski could sense she was not going to get very far with Adam's father. She looked across to where Adam's mother was sitting, quietly focused on her knitting. "What do you think Mrs. Henderson?"

"She agrees with me, don't you dear?"

"I would like her opinion if you don't mind."

"I agree with the boy's father. The job at the granary is good enough. Besides a job is a job these days," she added and returned to her knitting quickly losing interest in the conversation.