Playing Criminal

25 - Pancake Problems

Softly I padded downstairs trying to make as little noise as possible.

When I entered the kitchen I felt like a deer caught in headlights.

Mr Baxer’s face was a nice shade of chartreuse, as if he’d swallowed a bitter pill. Meanwhile Mrs. Baxter was straining to put on a presentable smile.

“Up so early, dear?”

I sighed, nodding “I couldn’t sleep.” My body was still on the run, refusing to believe that it was safe to rest.

“I’m sorry. Would you like me to make you some pancakes?”

“Umm…yeah, sure. That’d be wonderful- if it’s not too much to ask,” I flashed her a thin smile as I tried to recover my act about me again, rebuilding that wall of formality and politeness that I’d been forced to shed at Black Mountain.

“I’m going to go to work,” Todd’s dad said abruptly, scraping his chair across the kitchen floor noisily before rushing out of the room.

Mrs. Baxter glared a glare more menacing than anything I’d ever seen before. If I wasn’t afraid she would turn that death glare on me, I probably would have laughed at the situation.  

“Sorry, dear, he’s a bit temperamental. Now where were we?” And then her smile returned in full force, “Right. Pancakes. I’ll get them right up.”

“So how did you meet Todd?” She asked as she got out various ingredients and dishes.

“In the cafeteria. He offered me some oh his- well Gary’s- food because the lady wouldn’t serve me.” I frowned thinking of her then amended, “I accidently came to dinner late and the lunch lady didn’t take kindly to tardiness.”

She nodded, “So how has he been lately. Is he and…umm…Gary okay?”

“Yeah they’re both pretty good – Todd’s a really sweet kid at heart.”

“He always was,” She sighed heavily and paused for a moment at a family picture on the wall. “It made the transition so much harder.”

“Transition?” It wasn’t until the word had escaped out of my mouth that I realized I might be prying too much.

“Yeah  -schizophrenia sets in later in life than most diseases…It’s really sad.”

“Wait, how late?”

“He was perfectly fine for pretty much all of his life. He didn’t start talking to Gary until two years ago, when he was fourteen.”

I watched with a heavy heart as a drop of water hit the counter top.

“I’m…sorry,” I choked up instantly, not sure how to handle Mrs. Baxter’s imminent breakdown.

“Do you know how hard it is? People just don’t understand. If he’d be diagnosed with cancer, we’d be up to our elbows in lasagna and sympathy. But with a mental disease all anyone can say is that he should be locked up somewhere.”

Her grip tightened on the wooden spoon, “And he was – he was rewiring the school cameras because he was paranoid that someone could use them to track him and Gary. What di they do? They sedated them within an inch of his life and ripped my baby away from me.”

A sob broke through, “He was so smart, he had all As was in that GATE program thing. He was such a good kid, always had a smile on his face, lots of friends. But then that stupid disease had to grab him, had to rob him of his life. We tried medications, so many medications, but nothing worked…”

I was frozen in my seat, stuck in that awkward moment where you have no idea how to handle a situation.

How many times had I been guilty of dismissing Todd as habitually crazy? A freak?