“Hunh.”
“They’re telling you a lot,” I said. “Over and over.”
“Hunh.”
“Maybe that’s making you worried. Everyone talking so much.”
He stood, snapped small hands upward in a boxer’s stance. Kicked the bed hard. Did it again. Five more times.
Threw himself to the floor and pummeled the carpet with both fists.
Jumped to his feet again and watched me.
I did nothing.
“I’m gonna draw.”
“Okay.”
“By myself.”
“You want me to leave.”
“Yeah.”
“Would you mind if I stayed a little bit longer?”
Silence.
“Chad, how about I just sit here and don’t talk while you draw.”
“Unh-uh.”
“Okay, then I’ll tell Mommy we’re finished for today.”
Scuttling on his knees to a box in the corner, he grabbed a red marker, dove down belly-first, flipped the tablet open, and commenced drawing circles. Large, red page-filling circles that he began filling in laboriously.
Big red bubbles.
“Bye, Chad. Nice meeting you.”
“
“No?”
“You draw, too,” he ordered, without looking up. “We’ll draw fast.” Ripping his circle drawing out of the tablet, he tore out the following blank page and thrust it at me.
“Draw!”
“What color should I use?”
“Black.” He punched air. “We’re going fast. I’m gonna win.”
Ten minutes later, he’d announced victory fourteen times before announcing, “This time you go.”
I left him, found Gretchen in her living room, exactly where we’d left her.
“So?”
“He’s a great kid.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that. What’s going on in his head?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“I don’t believe this,” she said. “Jesus, it’s not like I’m going to be around forever, I need meat and potatoes—put
“He’s going through what any kid would go through.”
“Meaning?”
“Anger, fear. I’m not going to tell you anything dramatic right now because there’s nothing dramatic to tell.”
“Thought you were the master shrink.”
“One thing to be aware of,” I said. “Everyone’s been telling him he didn’t give you the illness. That’s better than not dealing with it but sometimes too much repetition can make kids anxious.”
“He said that?”
“I deduced it.” I smiled. “Being a master shrink.”
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t bug him about it. I told him once, maybe twice to make sure it sank in, ’cause that’s what the books say. Who’s everyone?”
“Who else has talked to him?”
“Just Bunny,” she said. “Oh, shit, I told Bunny to tell him, what, she overdid it? Typical. Only reason I included her was so he’d get a consistent message. And because one day she’ll be his … she’ll be the one to …” Burying her face in her hands, she moaned, “Oh, God.” Looking up: “Would you just please goddamn hold me!”
I was doing just that when Chad came out, holding a page full of black circles.
“You love her?” he said.
Gretchen pulled away, swiped her eyes frantically. “No, no, honey, we’re just …”
“You’re sad. He wants to make you happy. Maybe he loves you.”
“Oh, baby, you’re so smart.” She spread her arms. “No, he’s a friend, he’s helping. And you know what I really want? For
Chad stood there.
“C’mere, honey, give Mommy a hug.”
He walked over to me and held out the drawing. “For you.”
“Thanks, Chad.”
“You can come back. We’ll make Mommy happy together.”
Gretchen swooped him to her breast. “I
The movement had pulled the air hose from her nostrils.
A hiss filled the room.
Chad said, “Put it back. So you can get better.”
“Anything you say, sweetie boy smart boy. Anything.” Plugging the line back in, she said, “Now come up on my lap and I’ll tell you a story.”
“No,” he said. “I’m too heavy.”
“You’re—”
“I’m big. I’m heavy.” Turning to me. “You can go, I’m helping her.”
Two hours later, Gretchen phoned and spoke to me in a new voice: low, measured, soft around the edges.
“I don’t know what you did but it was amazing. Until now he’s been pulling away from me, when I try to talk to him he ignores me. After you left we hung out and he was my snuggle-bunny again. He even let me tell him stories about when he was little. It was awesome. Like having my baby back. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“I’m glad, Gretchen.”
A beat. “I’m not sure I like the flavor of that.”
“Of what?”
“Your tone,” she said. “Tentative. Like don’t get too happy, bitch, it could all come crashing down?”
“If I were you, Gretchen, I’d avoid interpretation. I’m glad it worked out. He’s a terrific little boy.”
Silence.
“You’re a tough one to read,” she said. “I can’t tell if you’re playing me. For all I know you’re watching porn on your computer while we talk.”
I laughed. “Too late in the day for multitasking.”
“But it is true, right? We had one good day but it could go back to the way it was and he could start shutting me out again.”
“Kids have moods like anyone else. There’s no way to predict.”
“Seize the day, huh? Shut the fuck up and stop thinking about me, me, me and enjoy what I’ve got.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
“Just answer one thing for me: Can someone be a terrible person but still a good mom?”
“You’re a good mom, Gretchen.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“From my perspective, you’re a caring, skillful mother.”
“I didn’t mess him up too bad?”
