The Voiceover
by Jared Cappel
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
Grace remained frustrated. “This sure is taking a while.”
“We’re undoing a lifetime of poor parenting.”
Grace let the comment slide. “It feels like he ain’t never gonna learn.”
“He’d better. We only have four years until he’s an adult.”
“Four years? Only?”
Dr. Parnell let out a sheepish grin. It wasn’t her fault if Grace still didn’t fully understand what was going to happen. The information had been laid out for her, even if some of it was obscured. “It’ll take time, but he’ll get there. They all learn. Eventually.”
By the time autumn rolled around, the difference in Travis was remarkable. He answered the questions posed to him. He ate the food they brought. He said “please” and “thank you” and occasionally even “I’m sorry.” He was ready for Phase Two.
Grace couldn’t believe it when she was told Travis would be coming home. “What if I screw things up? He’s made so much progress.”
Dr. Parnell felt the same way. Only, the progress she saw was in both mother and son. Even though she or her colleagues had regularly spoken for Grace, the difference in Grace was equally marked. Her diction was more polished, her attitude was more accommodating, her belief in Travis had skyrocketed.
Dr. Parnell caught Grace’s eye. “We’ll have someone overseeing your communication and ready to mute or replace your words at any time.” She sensed the fear on Grace’s face. “Not to worry. He’s ready. You both are.”
It was time. The other participants were well into Phase Three. But that wasn’t their concern. They could only go as fast as Travis would allow. His mother hadn’t lied; he truly was a handful.
Travis was decidedly quiet as Grace drove them home in her rusted station wagon. He stared out the window with vacant eyes. He listened as she spoke of her efforts to get him reinstated in school and the newfound responsibilities he’d have at home. All the while, unbeknownst to Travis, Dr. Parnell listened to every word.
They opened the door to the front house. Their Jack Russell ran up to Grace and showered her with kisses. He ran towards Travis, his tail wagging. When he got closer, he froze. His hackles rose. He cowered backwards, barking.
Grace reached for the skittering dog. “What’s the matter with you? Say hi to your brother.”
The dog retreated, barking at Travis as if he were an intruder. Travis showed no emotion. His eyes were dead. The unrelenting barking didn’t seem to register.
That night, Grace made spaghetti with stale breadsticks and a featureless iceberg salad. She asked Travis for help setting the table.
“What’s the point? Can’t we grab our food from the counter?”
“The point is I slaved over this stove while you watched those damn wrestling videos.” That’s what Grace tried to say. Only her words didn’t come out. Instead, as her forehead veins pulsed, the words of Dr. Parnell came through. “I’ve asked for your help, and I expect you to obey.”
Travis grumbled but walked to the cabinet and grabbed the placemats. Grace had to look away to hide her grin. She capped her wine. There would be no need for a second glass this night.
Travis was the perfect child all week. Grace’s mute ratio was lower than for the parents of the other recently released participants, even those whose behavioural profiles were less problematic than Travis’s. Grace couldn’t believe how quickly he’d adjusted. He returned to school, he walked the dog, he even vacuumed.
When the weekend approached, he asked permission to see his favourite band, an angry metal trio. Grace would have normally rejected the idea, but he’d behaved so well she didn’t see the harm.
“Sure, that sounds like a good idea.” However, the words she spoke were not the ones that came out of her mouth. Instead, she heard: “No. You’ve only recently been released from your detention. You haven’t yet earned such a right.”
“But I’ve done every bloody thing you’ve asked!”
Grace tried to speak, but Dr. Parnell spoke through the replace button. “I told you not to swear, young man.”
“‘Bloody’? Really? You’re mad about ‘bloody’? I’ll give you a bloody thing to be mad about.” He ran towards the wall and bashed his head. He stared back with devilish eyes, his nose leaking like a faucet. “This bloody enough for you, Ma?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” She wasn’t sure why she kept speaking. Her words never vocalized. Dr. Parnell’s words cried out. “You’re only hurting yourself. If you continue this behaviour, I’ll return you to the detention center.”
He corked back his head as if to smack the wall again, but instead he stopped. He looked remorseful, even a touch afraid. He held the distant gaze of a shell-shocked soldier.
Grace collected ice, while Travis reached for the paper towels. She didn’t bother to speak. There was no point; it wouldn’t be her words coming out. “You’ll have to live with the consequences of your actions. Let your throbbing nose be a reminder of your behaviour.”
Travis tilted back his head, stuffed the paper towel up his nose and applied ice. Still, he continued to bleed. Grace took him to the hospital. The ER physician tempered the bleeding and ordered a series of x-rays.
A nurse directed Grace and Travis to the imaging department. The receptionist told them to take a seat.
Grace was too angry to sit. She paced the room. “Don’t you worry, boy, I’ll take you out of this silly program if it’s the last thing I do.”
Travis couldn’t bear to meet his mother’s eyes. “We can’t keep going on like this, Ma.”
“What do you mean? This was one bad night. You’ve been doing so well.”
“Face it, we’re no good for each other. Every time you speak, it sets me off.”
“But it hasn’t even been me speaking!”
He looked confused. “I’m calmer in the program. Maybe I should stay with them. They have the tools to maximize my innate potential.”
Grace’s brow furrowed. She knew her son, and this wasn’t him. He’d never use a phrase like “maximize my innate potential.” She reached out and grabbed him by the lips. “Who’s controlling you?”
He struggled to free himself. “Get off me!”
She folded his lips back and ran her fingers along the inside of his mouth. She was certain she’d see a surgical scar but there was nothing appreciable. She looked into his eyes. “I know that ain’t you speaking, boy.” She grabbed his hand. “If they’re controlling you somehow, I want you to squeeze my hand.”
Travis’ body slackened. “I can’t do this anymore, Ma. I’m too tired.”
His depleted body scared her more than his anger ever had. It reminded her of his vacant eyes when they’d first left the hospital. Something was off. She was sure of it.
Before she could reply, a radiology technician called Travis’ name and led him into an open room.
Grace paced the waiting room, angrier than ever. Who was Dr. Parnell to prevent her son from seeing a concert? She had so many things she wanted to say. If only Dr. Parnell were standing right in front of her. And then, suddenly, she was.
Dr. Parnell motioned for Grace to follow. She stopped in a quiet alcove. “So we had a little setback, I see.”
“Setback? Is that what you call this? You did this! You injured my son!”
Dr. Parnell shook her head. “Let’s place the blame where it belongs. Travis didn’t listen to instructions. He made his bed, and now he’ll lie in it.”
“That’s the best you’ve got? My son is in a bed, a hospital bed, and all ’cause you’re too scared to let him see some band.”
“It’s not about the band. It’s about discipline. Remember our discussion—”
“Forget that! We’re done. Travis is better. I want to take him home and go on with our lives.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t that easy.” Dr. Parnell paused. Was Grace unaware of the terms, or was she purposefully being difficult?
“But you swore he’d only stay in the program until he was better. He’s better now. You’ve done your part. Let me do mine.”
“I’m afraid we have different definitions of the word ‘better.’” Dr. Parnell urged for Grace to sit. “This program is about discipline and consistency. If we stopped now, we’d undo all our hard work.”
“But he’s my son.”
“And look where your parenting led.”
Grace tried to swear but the mute button silenced her. It only made her want to scream more. Dr. Parnell wasn’t allowed to mute her away from her son. She’d read that somewhere. She stuck up her middle finger in lieu of her voice.
Dr. Parnell ignored the rude gesture. “I understand you’re upset. It’s hard to undo so many years of bad parenting.”
Grace shook her head. “It’s time to take my son home. If you told me a year ago, he’d clear the friggin’ table, I’d have called you nuts.”
“The government has invested a lot of money in your son’s retraining. The program will persist only if it reduces the recidivism rate. We have the tools to maximize his innate potential.”
Grace’s face went white. “Maximize his innate potential?” A chill ran down her spine. “I’m onto you! You’re not allowed to speak for him!”
Dr. Parnell laughed. “I’m not speaking for him. At least not how you’re suggesting. He’s simply absorbed our program’s teachings.” She formed a smile. “That’s a good thing.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”
“Hardly. We returned your son to the community. It was his actions that led to this setback.”
Grace struggled to conjure a sentence not laced with profanity. She lowered her eyes. “I’m done talking with you. Bring me my son!”
Dr. Parnell spoke carefully. “This might be heard to hear, but Travis has failed Phase Two. He’s being remanded to the detention facility indefinitely. We will continue with the treatment, but his freedom will be restricted.”
“Like hell it will!”
Just as Dr. Parnell was about to respond, she noticed Travis being wheeled out of the imaging room. He lay on his back with tubes in his nose and an IV running down the back of his hand.
Grace followed Dr. Parnell’s eyes to her son. She popped to her feet. “What have you done to him?”
“He’s been sedated. If you sit back down, I’ll explain—”
Grace ran towards her son. Dr. Parnell grabbed her by the elbow. Grace shrieked.
Dr. Parnell spoke atop the shrieking. “Madam, this is out of your control. The State has possession of your son. If you want any chance of seeing him before he turns eighteen, I urge you to settle.”
Grace tried to squirm free from Dr. Parnell’s grip. She needed to be with her son.
Dr. Parnell refused to let go. “Madam, please, I beg—”
Grace snapped. She swung with her free hand and caught Dr. Parnell in the chin. The prominent psychologist fell to the floor, a dazed look upon her face.
Grace jumped on Dr. Parnell’s stunned body, wrapping her hands around her throat. “I want my son back! You can’t have him!”
Dr. Parnell felt the world fading to black. Her last thoughts were self-critical. Grace was like a pit bull; Dr. Parnell had understood that the first time she’d seen her. She should have known better than to let her guard down against someone so powerful. She should have never led her into the quiet alcove where no one could see them.
Grace released her fingers from Dr. Parnell’s throat. “Are you going to let me have him? Or must I finish what I started?”
Dr. Parnell couldn’t believe her fortune. She’d been sure that once a woman like Grace latched onto her neck, she’d never let go. Perhaps she wasn’t the pit bull she thought her to be. Perhaps her explosive exterior was nothing more than posturing.
“Well?” Grace’s hands shook. Sweat dripped down her forehead and landed on Dr. Parnell’s chin.
Dr. Parnell used the last of her strength to dig into her pocket.
Grace was a hair quicker. She yanked the handheld device out of Dr. Parnell’s pants. “Is this what you’re looking for?” She smashed it against the floor.
Surprisingly, it didn’t shatter. It bounced off the tile floor and fell inches from Dr. Parnell’s hip. Dr. Parnell reached for it.
Grace watched the doctor’s efforts. “Go ahead. Speak for me all you want. It will be the last words you ever utter.”
Dr. Parnell pressed both buttons at the same time. Grace screamed. She felt like she was choking on a colony of fire ants.
Dr. Parnell got to her feet, wiping the sweat from her face. For the briefest of moments, a twisted smile fell upon her face. “You should have finished me when you had the chance.”
Grace writhed on the floor in agony, the physical pain matched only by the emotional pain of losing her son.
Dr. Parnell leaned in close. “There are consequences for your actions. It will take time and consistency but, if you behave in our rehabilitative program, you might just see your son again before you die.”
“You bloody bitch! I knew from the start I couldn’t trust you!” Only, those weren’t the words that came out of her mouth. Instead, her response was rather benign, even pleasant. “Your methods can help our troubled family maximize our innate potential. We’re with you every step of the way.”
Copyright © 2023 by Jared Cappel
