Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

Molly’s mother announced she was too frail to look after Charlie. She wanted to put him in a state-run halfway-house facility. Molly got an unscheduled, unofficial tour of the place. It was a run-down old boardinghouse, full of ex-cons on probation and mentally ill tenants, packed in three to a room. She noticed a pile of feces — which she suspected were human — in the second-floor hallway. Charlie cried and cried, begging her not to let their mother put him in there.

So Molly stayed in Chicago. She sold the occasional painting, got temp work wherever she could find it, and rented a two-bedroom apartment on Clark Street for Charlie and herself.

For a while, it was actually kind of comfortable. After all, Charlie knew her better than anyone else. He was a good cook and handy to have around for chores. In fact, the building manager paid him thirty dollars a week to vacuum the common areas and change burnt-out lightbulbs. People in the building liked him — despite his quirky personality. But sometimes Molly felt like one half of the building’s token weirdo residents: the artist and her handyman brother — with their collection of elephant figurines in the living room. Did she still want this arrangement when she was thirty?

Charlie got a job bagging groceries at the Jewel. He was on medication, which made him pretty manageable. But sometimes Molly felt like she had a kid living with her, a kid who occasionally brought home some skanky woman he’d pick up in a bar. It was easy for Charlie to score with an undiscerning female who didn’t realize he was a little off. He was a handsome guy, despite the fact that he gave himself some pretty terrible haircuts at times.

Often Molly just wanted a break from him. But there was no one to spell her, because their mother had moved to a retirement village in Vero Beach, Florida. She had friends down there.

At least one of them had friends. Molly couldn’t really keep any, not after she brought them home. Each one of her female friends became the object of Charlie’s affection. He deluded himself into thinking they were hot for him. Molly tried, but couldn’t stop him from pestering these women — to the point of stalking them.

Molly didn’t have much of a love life with Charlie around, either. He was boyfriend-repellent — maybe because he’d taken to wearing this ratty, secondhand Hells Angels jacket wherever he went. It was embarrassing. Molly waitressed parttime at T.G.I. Friday’s, the lunch and early dinner shift. She got asked out frequently. But Charlie tried to be best friends with every guy she dated, and he scared them off. Doug Cutland from Windy City Art Gallery valiantly tried to make a go at it. He even took Charlie to two Bears games. But he just didn’t have the patience to put up with a girlfriend who came with a needy, oddball twenty-six-year-old kid brother.

Poor Charlie seemed almost as devastated as she was when Doug had pulled away. On some level, Charlie must have known he was the reason things didn’t work out there. He started drinking more as a way of self-medicating. He even showed up drunk and surly to the Jewel, insisting on wearing his Hells Angels jacket in the store, because his checkout stand was by the automatic doors, and it was cold out. Rather than fire him, the ever-patient manager at the Jewel cut back Charlie’s hours.

To keep him busy on his new days off, Molly enrolled him in a creative writing class at Central Evanston Township Community College. His instructor was an author Molly had never heard of, Nick Sorenson, who published one novel, The Eskimo Pie Breakfast . Molly found his e-mail address in the college catalog’s course description. She wrote to him about Charlie:

. . He’s on medication for bipolar disorder, and may seem a little odd, but he’s very sweet. He’s really looking forward to your class & is hard at work on a short story. If Charlie should disrupt the class or act inappropriately in any way, please don’t hesitate to contact me by phone or e-mail. Thank you very much & I’ll have to buy THE ESKIMO PIE BREAKFAST!

Sincerely,

Molly Wright

Nick Sorenson’s e-mail reply came the next day:

Dear Molly,

Thanks very much for your heads-up about your brother. My favorite niece has special needs, like Charlie. So I’m pretty familiar with the struggles & challenges. I’m looking forward to having Charlie in my creative writing class.

Good luck tracking down a copy of The Eskimo Pie Breakfast . It’s out of print. I think there are some cheap, used copies on Amazon.com. Literally, dozens of people have read it!

Sincerely,

Nick Sorenson

Molly looked up Nick Sorenson, Author on Google.com, and came across a good review of his book, and a photo of him. The three-quarter-profile author portrait showed a trim, thirtysomething man with dark, wavy hair and a relaxed smile. His tie was loosened, and he stood in front of Buckingham Fountain. She knew it was silly, but she didn’t have a crush on anyone, and he seemed like a good candidate — even if it was just a fantasy crush. It would be a nice change of pace if she found a boyfriend because of Charlie instead of losing one because of him.

Molly ordered a used copy of The Eskimo Pie Breakfast on Amazon.com.

She took it as a good sign when Nick Sorenson sent her a friendly, unsolicited e-mail after Charlie had had his first class with him:

Dear Molly,

I know you were concerned about how your brother would get along in my creative writing class. Today, he read his short story, which was rather violent, but entertaining. He seemed to have some difficulty taking criticism of his work during the critique session. But I was impressed by the way Charlie praised a story by one young woman when it didn’t go over well with the others. It was very chivalrous of him. I think he’ll do all right in the class.

Sincerely,

Nick Sorenson

PS: Charlie proudly mentioned to me that you’re an artist & have sold your paintings in a few local galleries. I never miss a First Thursday art walk. Keep me posted on any upcoming exhibits of your work, Molly. I like to support local writers & artists!

She couldn’t help thinking that perhaps Nick was a bit interested in her, too. She asked Charlie about the piece he wrote. He bragged that everyone loved his story, but he didn’t want to show it to her yet, because it was part of a novel he planned on publishing. “It’ll probably be a bestseller,” he said.

When she asked about Mr. Sorenson, all Charlie said was, “He’s pretty cool.”

Charlie says you’re “pretty cool,” she wrote in her e-mail to Nick that night. Molly mentioned she’d shown a few paintings in participating First Thursday art walk galleries, and she’d ordered The Eskimo Pie Breakfast on Amazon.

I could only find a used copy, which means you won’t get a dime out of it. So I hope you’ll let me treat you to coffee sometime. I like supporting local writers & artists, too!

Molly thought she was being pretty damn clever with the oh-so-casual way she’d asked him out. But two days went by without a response. In the meantime, Charlie had had his second class with Nick Sorenson. The reply finally came on that third day:

Dear Molly,

Thanks so much for buying my book. It doesn’t matter if it’s used. I just like the idea that my work is still out there being read.

J. Simmons Gallery & Stafford-Lombard Gallery are 2 of my favorites. Your work must be quite extraordinary if it’s displayed in those galleries.

Would it be possible to get together for lunch or coffee on Monday? The cafeteria here at the school isn’t bad, and as you must know, Charlie seems to like it. Are you available around lunchtime on Monday?

Sincerely,

Nick