Boy Wonder

Boy Wonder

    There was nothing but blue skies, not one single cloud.  That made the day hot but while everyone else complained it didn’t bother Patrick Jane.  He had long learned to be able to control the body impulse to sweat or to shiver.  Dead giveaways when you are planning a con.  The carnival had just arrived at Miller’s Field and everyone was pitching in to set up the tents, get the rides going.  Everyone except the blonde, curly haired boy lying in the grass.  

     “Patrick!” He heard his father’s voice yelling for him but he didn’t bother to move.  Yes, Alex Jane could get angry enough to slap or sometimes punch but Patrick had learned to take it with ease.  He imagined the pain of the strike as energy going down inside of him.  He would then use that energy for his next mark.  In a way getting slapped sometimes was the best thing for him.  

     “Boy, what are you thinking?” a voice said above him, blocking out his sun.

       He smiled up at her.  “Hi, Sam.  Just taking a break of freedom.”

       “Keeping taking breaks while your dad is looking for you is not wise, kiddo.”  Sam shook her head at him.  She was just a few years older than him but already wonderful at training the animals.  She was good at the cons herself assisting once the magician in a magical act and really stealing the show.  Patrick knew that Pete, one of the twenty something lads who trained the elephants, was sweet on her but reluctant to say anything.  Sam sighed.  “Your funeral if Daddy catches you, Paddy.”  She left him on the hill in the grass.

         Eventually his father found him and nearly pulled him up by the ear.  He said his usual barge of swears and insults and donned one quick hit to the cheek.  It was over quickly and Patrick fixed his clothes and went to help sent up their tent.

        Patrick was “Boy Wonder” who would play a fun guessing game with the audience members.  They thought he was physic.  Of course it was all little tricks his father taught him.  Alex Jane had been a great con artist.  He had swindled a great deal of money and belongings from many a rich person.  He had had pride that he was one of the best.  Sometimes it didn’t sit well with him that Patrick was even better.

     Alex had met Patrick’s mother at a card game in San Francisco.  She was a professor of literature at Berkley and was brilliant.  She had natural blonde hair and green eyes that sparkled.  Alex wasn’t trying to con her; he was a man in love.  He courted her in an old fashion way- buying her flowers, bringing her for picnic lunches, keeping it chaste for as long as he could.  They eloped in Vegas totally and blissfully in love.  Alex was a changed man.  He took a regular job as a janitor of the public library.  His cons ended- his fun was in being with Claire.  Two years after their marriage they welcomed a son which they named Patrick. 

     Alex was a happy man.  He had everything.  Little Patrick taught himself to read before three between spending time with his mother and hanging out at the library his father cleaned.  Everything was perfect.  Or so it seemed until the night Alex returned home from work to find his wife dead in the bathtub, wrists slit and his son crying beside his dead mother.  She didn’t leave a note, no explanation to why she did what she did.  Alex couldn’t understand it.  He couldn’t deal with the tragedy before him.  He quit his job and did one con then another moving around.  Patrick was taken from him several times and put into foster care for a while.  He couldn’t connect with his son anymore though.  Every time he looked at those eyes, that hair, he saw his dead wife.  Alex didn’t want him anymore.  Not until he realized he had a gift.

     Patrick proved before 9 years old that he could cold read any situation.  He was gifted.  Alex knew he had to put his feelings aside- Patrick could make him a fortune if he honed his natural skills enough.  He asked his sister if she would take the boy in for a bit and then Alex got himself a permanent job with a carnival.  

     Now though Alex found himself wanting the kid gone.  He hogged all the limelight and was arrogate about it.  He no longer looked young either and soon the act would change.  Less money for him to live on.  

     When they were done setting up the tent, the chairs, the stage, Patrick put a tea kettle on the small stove they had.  This reminded Alex of Patrick’s mother who hated coffee and would only drink tea, milk first.   

    Alex watched him sipping his tea and anger boiled inside of him.  “I think you are old enough for me to tell you what happened to your mother.”

    “She killed herself, I know, I was there,” the young man didn’t flinch a muscle.

    “You remember that?”  Alex Jane looked at his offspring with unbelieving eyes.

     Patrick set down his tea.  “Some things you never forget.  That day will be one thing forever etched in my mind.”

     “Do you know why she did it?”  It was the question Alex always wanted an answer to.

     Patrick rubbed at his neck.  “She told me she wasn’t feeling well.  She told me to be good for you.  Mom gave me a kiss on the top of the head and went into the bathroom.  A bit later I heard her cry out in pain.  I didn’t move.  I just sat on the floor until there was silence.  I called out to her, she didn’t answer.  I opened the door and she was like you found her.  I don’t think we will ever know why she did it.  She probably didn’t know while she was ending her life.” Patrick picked up his tea and resumed drinking it.

     Alex got up from his chair.  “I need to take a walk.”

    “Okay,” Patrick answered matching his father walk off.  This time when he put the tea cup down his hand shook slightly and tea spilled.  He could keep his emotions in check the majority of the time but once in a while he couldn’t stop himself from feeling again.  When he did sometimes the emotional were too powerful and scared him.  He never wanted to lose control like his mother had. 

     After his tea his father hadn’t returned so Patrick went back to the spot on the hill and laid down in the grass.  It was nearly night now, the lights had started being turned on.  He looked at the stars above just beginning to show.  A part of him wondered if his mom was somewhere up there.  He flicked a tear from his lashes and tried to steady his pulse.  His boy wonder act would start up again the next day he couldn’t have puffy eyes.  He bit his lip as another tear fell and suddenly he was back in that bathroom crying, holding his mother’s hand.  He blamed himself.  Maybe he was too much for her, maybe he did something wrong.  Maybe he was not worthy of her love.  Patrick couldn’t will the emotions away- the sobs came out of him and his whole body shook. Tomorrow the cons would begin but at that moment he was just a young man missing his mother.