Max was released after six months of therapy. Mom and Dad barely watched him as he sat in the backseat. Max was a careful child. He always looked both ways before he crossed the street. Made sure to wear protection when riding his bike. Always buckled his seatbelt. Today he did not buckle his seatbelt.
“Happy to head back home, Max?” Dad asked. “I bet you miss your room.” Max looked out of the window.
“You should be happy” Mom said. “You could’ve been killed in that place.” Max looked at the back of Mom’s head. “After we put you in there we started finding all of these horror stories about people getting shock treatments.”
“Yeah” Dad said. “They would come out and kill themselves or their family. They were never the same afterwards. But not you, Max. You look the same. Good job.” Max returned to looking out of the window.
Back home Max walked to his room as his parents stayed in the living room. He placed his bags on the floor. Max never placed his bag on the floor. Max always placed everything where it belonged. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall until the sun came down.
The next morning Max was up before his alarm clock. Mom and Dad were in front of the television watching the news as they often did offering their social commentary as they shook their heads in disbelief at the world outside.
“Savages” Dad said as he lit another cigarette. “No one cares about anyone anymore.”
“I blame the lack of parental involvement in their children’s lives” Mom said as she picked at a small mole near her jaw line. “Parents pretend their children don’t exist. They don’t notice them until they’re in court.” Max stepped in front of the television.
“Good morning, Max” Dad said. “Bet it felt good to sleep in your own bed again.”
“Listen” Max said.
Mom stopped picking at her possibly cancerous mole. Dad’s cigarette fell out of his mouth and into his lap. He jumped up quickly, wiping the embers from his crotch. He took a step towards Max. Max held his hand up.
“For 11 years I have lived with the two of you. I have had no problem with having you forget my birthdays. I have had no problem with you forgetting parent/teacher conferences. I have no problem with the fact that you have never told me that you loved me. But what I do have a problem with is being placed in a psych ward for half a year and having my brains fried.” Max ran his fingers through his hair. Max always kept his hair cut short and neat. It had not been cut in six months. “How dare you? I mean, seriously. Why did you do it? It couldn’t have been because I was any trouble for you. Six months of my life gone. And why? That was not a rhetorical question. Tell me why.” Mom and Dad just stared in shock as their son said more in the past minute than he had in his entire life. “I said tell me!” Max shouted. He quickly scanned the room for an object. Settling on the ashtray that sat upon the small table he pick it up and threw it at his father striking him between the eyes. His fathers eyes crossed and he slid to the floor. “Will you tell me, Mom?”
“Electroconvulsive therapy has been used for many years” Dr. Roberts told Mom and Dad. “It has worked for decades, curing patience of everything from dementia to depression.”
“I don’t think Max is depressed” Mom said. “He is just a normal kid.” Max looked at the doctor and smiled. The smile was not returned. “I’m not sure if shock therapy is good for him.”
“Electroconvulsive therapy” the doctor corrected Mom. “And it will be good for him. Now if you would just sign here…” he said as he slid a sheet of paper across the desk. Dad picked it up and began reading it. “I assure you that everything is in order.”
“’Risk of death’?” Dad asked. “Max could be killed from this?”
“There is a slight risk” Dr. Roberts said. “Very slight. It almost never happens.”
“Hmm…” Mom hummed as she read the contract with Dad. Dad shrugged and signed the paper and gave it back to the doctor.
For three weeks Max was subjected to electroconvulsive therapy. The nurses were amazed that he did not scream. Every day it was the same routine. Max would awaken at 6am. Eat his breakfast at 6:55am just before it was removed from his room. At 11am his first treatment began. Lunch at 2pm. Eaten at 2:55pm. Next session of therapy at 4pm. Dinner at 7pm. Eaten by Max at 7:55pm. Sleep at 9pm. Repeat.
One day Mom and Dad paid Max a visit. Dad pat Max on the head while Mom removed a book from her purse and began reading it. Max stared straight ahead watching his parents.
“You look good, Max” Dad said as he checked his watch. Max stared.
“How are they treating you?” Mom asked while licking her thumb to turn the page. Max stared.
“Meet any new friends?” Dad asked. Max stared.
“Have they told you when you’ll come home?” Mom asked. Max stared.
“This was nice, being together again like this” Dad said as he stood, pat Max on the head, and left. Max stared.
“It was” Mom said as she placed her book back into her purse and left as well. Max stared.
“I hate the both of you” Max said.
“This is the third time this month” Principal Smith said to Mom and Dad. Mom nodded and Dad pursed his lips. Max was on the roof of the school. He had not threatened to jump. He had not thrown any objects over the side. He was just there. “If this happens again we will be forced to suspend Maximillion and charge the both of you with the fees from the fire department.”
“We understand” Dad said as he rose to his feet. “Sorry about the trouble. We’ll talk to Max later.”
“The thing is Maximillion is a good student, Mr. Thomason” Principal Smith said. “But his behavior is, how can I say this?, odd.”
“Odd?” Mom asked. “How so?”
“The backpack full of garbage. The rooftop incidents. He never speaks in class. Just…odd behavior.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad” Dad said. “Is he disrupting other students?”
“No” Principal Smith said. “Have you ever considered counseling?”
“Our marriage is fine thank you and I don’t see what that has to do with Max’s behavior” Mom said defensively.
“No, for Maximillion” Principal Smith said. He removed his glasses and began cleaning them with his tie. Max smiled. The smile was not returned. “Children like, uh, him, eventually are lead down a dark path. Crime. Drugs. Assault.”
“Assault?” Dad asked as he looked at Max. “Him?”
“It happens” Principal Smith said. “There have been plenty of students that began quiet, just like Maximillion here only to turn to a life of crime. Just last year a former student was involved in that bank robbery near downtown.”
“I remember that” Mom said. “Sad story” she said with no emotion.
“We will look into getting Max counseling” Dad said as he pat Max on the head and left with Mom. Max looked at Principal Smith and smiled once again.
“Its just you and me, young man” he said to Max. “You have privacy here. Did your parents ever touch you?” Max smiled. “You can tell me. Did they ever hurt you?” Max just smiled.
His parents had never touched him painfully or inappropriately. Principal Smith shook his head at Max and opened his door. Max smiled and left the office. It was lunch time and Max had a meal waiting for him. The lunch lady, Mrs. Simmons, handed him his meal from behind the counter.
“Just the way you like it, Max” she said with a smile. Max frightened Mrs. Simmons. He was quiet. Too quiet. “Have a good day.” Max licked his lips and opened his mouth slightly. The lunch room went silent with the anticipation of hearing Max speak. He sniffed for a moment, took a fork, and walked away.
This is a story. An unextraordinary story about an unextraordinary boy. A boy named Maximillion Thomason. Max for short. Max lived in a city that was as equally as unextraordinary as he was in a home like many others on a street that will remain unnamed as it too is unextraordinary.
Max’s parents had always wanted a child for no particular reason. Perhaps to love. No one has ever bothered to find out as the neighbors never spoke to them and found no reason to. Mom sat at the breakfast table slowly eating oatmeal while Dad sipped from his lukewarm cup of coffee. Occasionally they would glance at Max. To make sure he was still there or breathing no one is sure. But there he sat. All 5’1”, 97lbs. of him.
“Isn’t it your birthday, Max?” Dad asked. Mom stopped eating just as the spoon of oatmeal reached her lips. Dad had not asked Max specifically. He just asked aloud leaving the question to be answered. Or not. “I could’ve sworn your birthday was today.”
“It can’t be” Mom said. “We would remember something like that, right?”
Max did not answer. He just sat and smiled while staring into his cold bowl of oatmeal. Max liked his food cold. No one ever asked him why. Either they did not care or did not need to know. He looked at Dad for a moment and blinked twice. He then placed his hand against his bowl of oatmeal and shrugged before taking his spoon and shoveling a large portion into his mouth.
“If it were his birthday he would’ve said something” Dad said. “Every kid gets excited about their birthday. Don’t they?”
Dad was not sure if this statement was correct. Truth be told neither he nor his wife could remember much about their childhoods. This suited them just fine. Dad finished his coffee and patted Max on the head awkwardly. Mom looked at her watch and frowned.
“Time for school, Max” she said aloud. Max wiped oatmeal from the corners of his mouth with his shirt collar and rose from his seat. He slung his large green backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door. “Do you have everything you need, Max?” Mom asked. Max looked at the ceiling for a moment before heading out of the door.
Though the school offered a bus program Max never used it. He chose to walk the three miles to school and three miles back daily. No one knew why. No one bothered to ask why. Along the way Max would fill his backpack with various items. Rocks. Leaves. The occasional broken bottle. No one knew what he did with these items. No one ever asked. As he neared the school a young man named Tyler emerged from a row of bushes and stood in Max’s path. Max smiled at Tyler. The smile was not returned.
“What are you so happy about?” Tyler asked Max. Max touched his chin as if deep in thought and slightly opened his mouth as if he were about to speak before putting his hand back at his side and closing his mouth. And smiling. “Are you retarded or something?” Tyler asked. Max blinked twice. “You give me the creeps.” Tyler walked away. Max entered the school. But not before placing a small red straw into his backpack.
