William Rabkin - Psych - A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Read

The morning was perfect. A cool breeze blew off the bay and tempered the warmth that was already radiating off the sun-soaked hills. In a few hours the coastal fog would burn off, and the heat would force Henry Spencer to put down his tools, pick up a beer, and spend the rest of the day in the comfort of his air-conditioned living room watching the Dodgers blow another easy one. But for now he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to spend this glorious day doing anything besides painting trim, patching rain gutters, and performing all the basic house maintenance that had been put off during the long, wet winter.

There was a crash of paint cans from the open garage. “Are you all right, son?” Henry shouted. He got a muffled grunt back in return.

Henry knew his boy didn’t share his enthusiasm for the day’s tasks. Shawn had begged him to put off cleaning the garage for another week. Fishermen had caught an enormous great white off the Santa Barbara coast, and it was on display at the pier today only. Shawn was desperate to get a look.

But the boy had to learn-work first, play later. He’d already put off this task three weeks running, and Henry finally put his foot down. Shawn accused his father of ruining his life, but Henry knew he was actually saving it. Shawn was so smart and so charming at ten years old, it would be all too easy for him to skate through the rest of his adolescence without ever accomplishing anything. He needed to learn good work habits now if he was ever going to become a man.

Henry picked up the paint scraper and bent down to attack the peeling woodwork above the foundation. As he turned away from the garage, he caught a flash of motion out of the corner of his eye. He jumped up just in time to see a bicycle tearing up the driveway toward the garage. Shawn’s bicycle. And though the rider had a baseball cap pulled down to hide his face, Henry still managed to recognize his own son.

“Shawn!”

The bicycle sailed into the garage. Henry ran over to the driveway just in time to see Shawn’s best friend, Gus, hurriedly taking his place on the bike as Shawn jammed the cap over his head.

“Hi, Mr. Spencer,” Gus said. “I just got here. On this bicycle. With this cap on my head. In fact, that was probably me you saw riding up the driveway just now.”

“Was it?” Henry said.

“Oh, yes,” Gus said. “Because Shawn’s been here all morning, working away. Look at the excellent job he’s done stacking your paint cans.”

Gus pointed to a stack of cans. Henry had to admit it was meticulously shaped.

“If you just got here, how do you know what Shawn’s been doing?” Henry said.

Gus froze, searching for an answer. Shawn pulled the cap off his head and put it on his own.

“Fine, you caught us,” Shawn said. “Gus was cleaning out the garage while I went to see the shark for both of us.”

“I’ll deal with you in a minute,” Henry told his son, then turned to Gus. “You wanted to see the shark as bad as he did. Why would you let him take advantage of you like that?”

Gus looked puzzled. Apparently he had never thought of it that way. “Shawn said if he went, he could describe the shark to me in such detail, it would be just like I saw it myself. But if I went, all I could say was it was great. And white. So this way we both have the experience.”

“And Gus gets to improve his valuable can-stacking skills,” Shawn said. “I’m not taking advantage of him if we both win.”

“So you get to do what you want, and Gus gets to do what you don’t,” Henry said.

“Exactly,” Shawn said. “It’s a win-win.”

Henry sighed. Military school. That was the ticket. A few years of strict discipline might teach Shawn the lessons he resolutely refused to learn from his father. The only thing that stopped Henry from picking up the phone and enrolling him today was the fear that a few years with Shawn might end up undermining the entire military.

“You are grounded for the next four weekends,” Henry said.

“Dad!”

“I don’t care if the Loch Ness Monster is hanging at the pier. You will spend the next four Saturdays and Sundays working around the house under my direct supervision,” Henry said. “And you’re going to start right now. Not only are you cleaning out this garage-I want you to scrub the oil stains off the floor.”

Shawn stared down glumly at fifty years of accumulated grime, searching for a way out. A quick glance at his father’s face told him there wouldn’t be one. Not today, at least.

Gus gave Shawn a consoling pat on the shoulder and started toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Henry said.

“I guess I’ll go see the shark,” Gus said.

“I guess you’ll stay here and help Shawn with the garage,” Henry said.

“But you just said Shawn was taking advantage of me,” Gus said.

“He was,” Henry said. “And he’s going to keep doing it until you learn to stand up to him. Think of this as your first lesson.”

Chuckling, Henry walked out of the garage. Behind him, he could hear the two boys arguing over whose fault this was. As he picked up his paint scraper, the arguments were drowned out by the sound of boxes being dragged out onto the driveway.

The day was perfect. The sun was hot, the breeze was cool, and Henry had two boys cleaning out his garage. Talk about a win-win.

The speed was exhilarating. Intoxicating.

The plastic letters on the hatchback spelled out TOYOTA, but as Gus piloted the blue Echo down State Street, it might as well have been a Ferrari. He stomped down on the gas and felt 105 horses galloping under the hood. The four cylinders screamed like an F/A-18 Hornet in a Blue Angels formation. Gus knew if he cracked down the window, the blast of wind would blow his hair right off his head-if he didn’t keep it buzzed close to his scalp just for such an occasion. At the very least, it would whip his Donald Trump Collection power tie out the window. God only knew if the clip-on would be strong enough to keep it in the car.

Even so, Gus was tempted. It would be worth the risk to face the primal force of nature’s fury. But to crank down the window meant taking one hand off the wheel, and ahead in the distance, he saw danger.

Danger that would require all his driving skill.

As the light changed from green to yellow, a flock of schoolkids stood on the corner, waiting for the WALK sign. If they spread out in the crosswalk, there would be no way to avoid plowing into them. Gus took his foot off the gas.

There was a strangled scream from the seat beside him.

“It’s okay, Shawn,” Gus said. “I see them.”

Under his perpetual one-day stubble, Shawn Spencer’s face was turning red. He seemed to be having trouble forming words. Extreme speeds work like that on some people, Gus knew.

“The light just turned yellow,” Shawn said. “You can make it!”

“You mean run the light?” Gus said.

“You don’t need to run it. You can walk and still get through before it changes.”

Gus’ foot hovered over the gas. Shawn’s hand shot across the gear shift and pushed down on Gus’ knee.

“A woman’s life is at stake. Punch it!”

Gus struggled to keep his foot airborne. “Don’t touch the knee.”

“Then speed up.”

The hand pressed down on his knee. Gus had to risk taking one hand off the wheel to pry it off. But Shawn’s fingers were curved around his patella, and he couldn’t peel them away.

“Do you have any idea how fast we’re going?” Gus said.

“Yes. Thirty-three miles an hour.”