Who's On First

Chapter 2

Chapter 2“Charles Albert Isaac Nicola Newton,” Marie Newton snapped. “You’re being obstinate, and I am not happy about that.”

He knew his mother meant it. She only used his full name when she’d lost complete patience with him. After all, the argument had been going on for almost an hour. Why wasn’t she as exhausted as he?

Charles, known to his few friends as…Charles, although he’d have been over the moon if they gave him a cool nickname like Chick or Chaz or something…He gave a heavy sigh. He’d hoped to avoid this conversation with his parents—well, primarily with his mother—but it seemed like it had become inevitable. That didn’t mean he had to meet her disapproving gaze. He had no doubt she’d be wearing her habitual frown, the one that turned her lips into a thin, tight line, making her seem years older than she actually was. She was a certified genius, although her IQ wasn’t as high as his, so she’d pinned all her failed hopes of solving at least one of the Millennium Prize Problems onto him. That was why he got his undergrad degree at fourteen, his first master’s two years later, and his second at eighteen. That was also why he’d burned out at the ripe old age of twenty-one and left his doctoral program with his dissertation undefended. As for his father—Charles spared a glance to where the man was seated in the armchair to the right of his wife’s desk. His IQ was a few points lower than Marie’s, something she never let him live down, but he also was in the genius range. Not that it mattered. Charles knew his father wouldn’t say a word in Charles’s defense.

He opened his mouth to apologize, then closed it, stiffened his spine, and straightened his shoulders. Dammit, he’d had enough, enough of pressure to get the best grade scores, and even then it was never sufficient. Enough of having no life outside the lecture hall. Enough of the disgrace of being unable to defend his dissertation. Enough…well, enough was enough. He rose and turned to leave the stifling atmosphere of this room.

“Charles.” His mother’s voice was ice cold. “Stop right there, young man. This conversation isn’t finished.”

“I rather think it is, Marie.” She’d always insisted he refer to her by her first name, although his father preferred being called Dad. It had been confusing growing up in their household to say the least.

“If you walk out of this room, I’ll cut you off. You’ll never have another cent from this family.”

He paused, and she made a satisfied sound. The threat was clear to Charles—not only would his allowance be stopped, but the rent for his apartment in New Jersey would as well. He’d never cared about money—it had always been available. He’d never had to pay a bill or balance a checkbook. Marie was as aware of this as anyone else in this room, and no doubt she was certain she had him exactly where she wanted him—caving to her decree and returning to complete his doctorate. However, his words weren’t going to be what she expected. “If that’s how you want it, Marie,” he said.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to Princeton, to clean out my apartment. I assume it will no longer be mine?”

She narrowed her eyes, and once again her mouth tightened.

Yes, he’d thought as much. “I’ll leave the Porsche in the drive.” The upkeep and insurance for the sporty little car his parents had given him when he’d obtained his second master’s degree in Numerical Analysis were more than he’d be able to afford without his allowance. He removed the elegant fob from his keyring, placed it on the piecrust table near the door, and walked out of the room.

As he left the house where he’d grown up, he took his cellphone from his pocket and called for an Uber. Jesus, he hoped he hadn’t been too precipitate. He always carried plastic, but how long would it be before Marie stopped his credit cards? He’d learned to carry cash, mostly so Marie wouldn’t realize what he did in his spare time, not that it was salacious, but a fellow liked to have some secrets. He breathed a sigh of relief when a quick glance into his wallet revealed enough cash to cover the cost to the train station. Once he was done in Princeton, it should also get him another train ticket to Charlestown, Pennsylvania and the university where he’d gotten his undergraduate degree. Most students had left him alone, and he’d been treated well by the staff and faculty. In addition, he had fond memories of the town. Hopefully, he’d have enough money to keep him going until he found some sort of job either on campus or in the nearby town. His burnout precluded even a job as a cashier in McDonalds or Burger King, and as for anything else…

Well, lately, it seemed even janitors needed a degree of some sort, and he had three of them.