Chapter Text
April 15
I failed Charlie.
Our meeting had started out simply. I told Charlie that he was learning quickly (and he was, considering how he was able to stumble through the final three paragraphs of Robinson Crusoe yesterday), and Charlie had beamed.
I wanted to get more of a look at what Charlie was actually learning and how he was applying it, so I asked for his progress reports.
In retrospect, that was a horrible thing for me to do. I would never want my thoughts read by anyone, and yet I assumed that Charlie wouldn't mind me reading his.
Charlie had handed them over with no protest, though. In fact, he seemed quite eager. So I read them.
At the bottom of his April 3 report, I froze.
The only thought going through my head was, How did I not realize it?
I didn't say anything about it, though. Nothing regarding it specifically, at least, because Charlie was a grown, independant man, even if his IQ was subpar.
I shouldn't patronize him, I had thought. I shouldn't scold him for doing something so stupid when he doesn't know better.
Or when I should have taught him better.
"Charlie," I had said, "you're a fine person and you'll show them all." One day you'll wipe those taunts and jeers right off of their faces.
And Charlie had stared at me, confused. "Why?"
"Nevermind," I had replied, my voice trembling. "But remember, don't feel bad if you one day find out that everybody isn't as nice as you think they are." And I had given him the best smile I could manage. "For a person who God gave so little to, you have done more than a lot of people with brains that they've never even used."
I never figured out what Charlie heard when I said that to him, but his answer was one that will always haunt me.
"All my friends are smart people but they're good. They like me and they never did anything that wasn't nice."
"I-I've got something in my eye. I need to go to the lady's room."
And I cried. I cried because, deep down, I knew that this was my fault. Charlie wasn't the brightest, and it was my job to teach him better. It might not have been my job to keep him safe, but it was my duty.
And I had failed.
I should have told him, warned him, begged him, not to hang around Joe Carp and Frank Reilly. Yet I didn't. Charlie's low intelligence might be a shield, but it was also a barrier keeping him apart from the rest of us. He might never understand how we think.
But now he might. Charlie's getting smarter by the minute, I can see it as clear as day. What happens when he gets smart enough to realize what had happened? The thought terrifies me.
I just hope that I won't be the one he blames. I've stood by Charlie and I plan to stand by him for the rest of my days. I can't stand the thought of him not wanting me there.
I've decided not to read any more of his progress reports. As much insight as they give, they're also full of the errors I have made.
Maybe I should stop writing my progress reports, too. I'll certainly be much happier.
Oh, how I would love to see these burn in the fires of Hell. It would certainly be a fitting end for the papers that have brought me such misery.