Читать книгу After the Silence - Rula Sinara - Страница 12
ОглавлениеDear Diary,
I had a bad dream again last night. This time, I couldn’t remember her face. I woke up so scared. I hate sleeping.
IF BEN HAD to listen one more time to the mechanical grind of “Frosty the Snowman” coming from the holiday jack-in-the-box Grandma Nina had gotten Ryan yesterday, he was going to explode. He scrubbed his hands across his short, prickly hair and dropped his fists against the kitchen table. A tangerine tumbled off the edge of the centered fruit basket and rolled onto the chair next to him. This was pointless. Who in the blasted universe could think through all that noise?
The laptop screen switched to screen-saver mode. He’d been staring at it that long without touching a key. He shoved his chair back and marched into the family room, where Chad, kneeling on the carpet in front of Ryan’s bouncy seat, was gearing up to crank that Jack Snowman again. Maddie was curled up against a sofa pillow watching some show starring rainbow-colored ponies that was set loud enough to drown her brothers out. The place looked as though toys had attacked by air, land and sea. And a friend of the real Jack was flying in today.
That was likely the reason he was irritable. That and the phone call from Maddie’s teacher letting him know that Maddie needed to be picked up at the nurse’s office and asking if he could return after school let out for a conference—especially since he’d missed the routine parent-teacher conferences scheduled at the beginning of the month. All in one day. The teacher meeting meant that he’d have to head straight to the airport from the school. Which had forced him to call Nina to see if she wouldn’t mind coming over to watch the kids. She’d jumped at the opportunity. Zoe’s mom had her heart in the right place, but he was about to get bombarded with the implied “you’re doing this all wrong” and “we know what your kids need more than you do” from all angles—his mother-in-law and the school. With his bad luck, this Hope person would add her two cents to the pot.
He’d blasted the idea of anyone living in his house to help. He was managing just fine. Most of the time. Even now, the idea of having a stranger underfoot, on top of everything else, didn’t sit well. However, Jack had made an effective point. Having live-in help would mean that he could focus more on developing his security-business plan. Plus, his mother-in-law would back off a little—or, as Jack put it, “worry less”—and see that he had everything under control. Maybe she’d get used to not hovering. Likewise, Ben wouldn’t keep enabling the situation by having to call her for emergencies. He’d resisted a few weeks ago, when Ryan had come down with another ear infection on parent-teacher conference day, a decision that was biting him today. In any case, if this Hope got on his nerves, then he could have her stay at his in-laws and keep them occupied from over there. Nina loved guests. Either way, he’d have more control...and some quiet time to sort things out in terms of work.
“Hey, guys,” Ben called over the exasperating ruckus. No reaction. He put two fingers between his lips and blew.
Maddie turned her cheek against the pillow and frowned at him before taking her time to pause her video. Chad stopped midcrank and looked up, and Ryan stared wide-eyed with his little hands securing his feet tight against his belly. Ben took the snowman from Chad, stuffed it into the box and snapped the lid with the sense of relief one got from defusing a bomb. This stay-at-home-dad stuff was really messing with his mind.
“That’s better. Mads, keep that down, would you?”
She aimed the remote at her brothers and pretended to lower their volume. Silent sarcasm. A bit of silence was exactly what he wanted, except from Maddie. He’d change a hundred stench-drenched diapers if it meant she’d say something. Anything, other than the sounds of crying or the shrill, closed-mouth scream she did when she’d been pushed too far.
He had no doubt the parent-teacher conference he had to leave for in a few hours was going to be about just that. Again. The school nurse had shown him Maddie’s handwritten note. One word: headache. They all knew there was more to it. Frustration twisted the muscles in his shoulders, and he cranked his neck to the side.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said to Maddie. “Chad, pick up some of these toys before Grandma gets here. A dime a dunk.”
He was not above bribery. After Zoe was killed, one of the school moms had stopped to check on him in the parking lot and had begun spewing advice. She’d assured him that bribery was a parent’s secret weapon. Everyone used it. Not everyone admitted to it.
Chad immediately began tossing toys into the giant wicker basket by the couch. Unfortunately, each dunk came with a creative sound effect, and his four-year-old had gifted lungs. Maddie slammed a second pillow over her ear as she zoned out in front of the TV.
Ben grabbed a chewable and slobber-proof picture book, gave it to Ryan and set his bouncy seat near Maddie. Yes, he’d resorted to the television babysitter a couple of times, but all those colors had to have some visual-stimulation benefits. Right?
“I’ll tell you what, man. How about you help me inflate a bed? You can push the button on the pump motor. It’s really loud.”
A superhero landed headfirst on the floor near the basket. Ouch.
“How loud?” Chad asked, wrapping one knee around the other as though he was holding it in.
“Jet-fighter loud.” Anything loud served as bribery with this kid.
“Like this?” The ensuing screech from Chad had Maddie pounding the pillow on her ear, Ryan whimpering and Ben wincing. It wasn’t going to take long for this Hope person to flee to Nina’s house.
“How about you go use the bathroom and meet me in your room to find out?”
“Okay!”
At least getting Chad in a different room would give Maddie some peace.
The doorbell rang, sending Ben’s nerves prickling up his spine like a row of merciless fire ants, a reaction that hadn’t subsided since Zoe’s death.
He rolled his shoulders and went to let Nina in. He’d specifically told her he’d leave the door unlocked, but apparently she’d forgotten.
He found her standing there with a big cardboard box in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I had to use my elbow on the doorbell. This box is a little heavy,” Nina said as she bustled past him. His nose twitched from an ambush of fruity hairspray.
Ben took the box from her and escaped to the kitchen. Nina made a beeline for the baby, after hanging her coat on the wooden rack by the door.
“So what’s in the box?” Ben said, closing his laptop and stacking his notes on top, then setting them in the cabinet under the microwave. Zoe’s mother did not need to see any of it.
“Oh, just some holiday decorations Zoe had stored in our basement because your garage was getting too full. I put a tin of chocolate-chip cookies on top. Go ahead and pull it out so you don’t forget,” she said. She unclipped Ryan and hugged him close to her shoulder, then slathered him with kisses and singsong words Ben couldn’t make out.
He pulled a red tin decorated with elves and snowflakes out of the box, noted the rest of the contents and quickly slapped the flaps of cardboard back in place.
“Not happening,” he said.
“Shh. Maddie’s asleep on the couch,” Nina said, turning off the TV and walking into the kitchen with Ryan in her arms. Her lips tightened. “Zoe’s favorite thing to do was to decorate the weekend after Thanksgiving. That’s in just over a week.”
“It’s not happening this year, Nina, so feel free to keep the decorations.” He carried the box back to the entryway and set it under the coatrack so that it wouldn’t be forgotten. She followed him.
“Let the kids have some fun, Ben. It could cheer Maddie up.”
He looked at the half-tidied living room.
“I’d say they’re having plenty of fun already. And no, I don’t think it’ll cheer Maddie up. We’re not decorating this year. They can enjoy the decorations at your house. But not here.”
“You told me yourself that Maddie’s counselor said to make as few changes as possible so as not to stress her more. Not letting her go through the holidays like she always did would be a mistake. One that she might not recover from.”
A direct hit. Nina and Zoe’s father, Eric, were known in the community for opening their hearts and home to others. Years ago they’d adopted Zoe’s younger brother Jack after he’d lost his parents to drug overdoses. And they’d even accepted Ben—albeit reluctantly—when Zoe had brought him home from college and announced that they were getting married. Ben had always wondered if Nina harbored a nugget of resentment toward him, believing he’d triggered Zoe’s decision to quit college to raise Maddie. Even if had really been Zoe’s call. Nina was a fiercely protective woman, and ever since Zoe died, she’d directed those energies at her grandkids. As if they didn’t have a dad, or at least one whose parenting methods and choices she agreed with.
He got the message loud and clear every time. She’d been around his kids over the years more than he had. She knew them better. He looked back toward the bedroom hallway. Empty. Chad had either taken himself to do number two in the bathroom, or was trying to pull the inflatable bed out of its box. As long as no little ears were sticking around the corner...
“Nina. You know how grateful I am for all you’ve done over the years—being there for Zoe and the kids, being here for us, helping me, especially with Ryan, over the past seven months. But with all due respect, this is my home, and they have a father. No decorating this year.”
“But Zoe would—”
“Exactly. This was her thing. She decorated for Christmas. And she’s not here. Out of respect for her, it’s not happening. What my kids need is to get through the rest of this year without any more pressure or sympathy or attention that does nothing but remind them of losing their mother. The stuff in this box will only emphasize what they don’t have anymore.”
Nina’s chin and brow rose simultaneously, and she turned her back to him. She carried Ryan, who was half-asleep and drooling like a pro on her shoulder, and laid him on his back in the playpen occupying the corner of the family room. End of conversation. Good.
Ben glanced at his watch. He hurried to check on Chad and found him on the potty buck naked and humming. Or was that moaning? And at what age was he going to stop stripping every time he used the bathroom?
“Daddy, I think I’m conti-pasted.” Constipated. Ben knelt down and rubbed Chad’s back. He should have known the packet of gummy lizards he’d given him in the car on the way to picking up Maddie had been a bad bribe.
“Uh, how about giving it a few more minutes? Here.” Ben picked a book from a stack of Chad’s favorites, which he kept in the bathroom for “encouragement.” “Read this. I have to go, but Grandma is here. Call out to her if no torpedoes launch. But not too loudly. Maddie’s napping.”
“Okay,” Chad said, taking the book.
Ben slipped into his room and grabbed his sweatshirt. Nina had picked up all the remaining toys and was checking Maddie’s backpack at the kitchen table.
“She hasn’t done her homework yet?” Nina asked, looking up from the student agenda.
“No. She can do it when she gets up, if she feels up to it.”
“But she was watching a video,” Nina said, putting the homework agenda back inside and propping the bag on a chair. Ben closed his eyes briefly and exhaled.
“She had a headache. Chad’s on the toilet. I really have to go.” He grabbed his wallet and keys. If he was going to make his appointment with the teacher, he needed to leave now.
“You go. I have everything covered. I really don’t mind helping. Especially since I guess I won’t get to help as much with Jack’s friend around.”
Oh, for crying out loud.
“You’ll be busy cooking for Thanksgiving and then the holidays. You wouldn’t want to deprive everyone, would you? Don’t worry, you’ll still see the kids,” he said, opening the front door.
“I hope so. Of course, you’ll bring them for Thanksgiving, then. Right? Even with losing Zoe, and with what Maddie is going through, there’s a lot to be thankful for.”
Ben’s temples started to pound, and his knuckles whitened against the doorknob. Everyone mourned in their own way, but being thankful was pushing it. She had to be in denial.
“Nina, I’ll bring them, but I’m not thankful for the drunk who killed my wife, and I’m not thankful for what my daughter is going through.”
“But you should be thankful that you’re here with your children and that they didn’t lose both parents. Be thankful that Zoe wasn’t still pregnant with Ryan when she was in that car.” Her eyes glistened and her voice hitched. “Ben, I need you all there to get through it,” she whispered.
Ben felt sucker punched. What if Zoe had still been pregnant? Bile burned his chest, and he swallowed the emotions churning with it. He nodded as he let go of the door. “Thanks for watching the kids,” he said. “Lock the door. It’ll be a couple of hours before I make it back.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you come home.” He could hear the door click shut behind him.
I’ll be here when you come home.
How many times had Zoe said those words over the years?
He double paced to the Expedition hogging the small driveway. After Zoe’s death, he’d bought a year-old model because of cost, but he wanted the equivalent of a tank to haul his kids around in.
At least maybe he could keep the rest of his family safe.
* * *
BEN SCANNED THE report card preview before him. It looked like a Fortune 500 company stock sheet. Numbers, letters, categories and subcategories. What happened to just giving students As, Bs and Cs? Or Fs... He quickly searched the columns, relieved when no Fs jumped at him.
Ms. Serval crossed her legs again and kept fiddling with her necklace. Did teachers really dress up that much for a school day? He wore his worst jeans just to get through a day with three kids. She had eighteen. Ben pretended not to notice when she flicked her hair back over her shoulder and leaned forward to pass him another sheet of paper, and tried not to pass out from her tear-gas perfume. Maybe that was what had triggered Maddie’s headache. What he really wanted was for the woman to turn off the background music in the classroom. It was driving him insane, but he didn’t dare give her a reason to get up and walk in front of him. Not in his precariously low position on the child-size chair he was in.
“What’s an N?” he asked.
“That stands for Needs Improvement,” said Ms. Serval.
“In class participation? Seriously? After our meeting at the start of the year with the school counselor, knowing what’s going on, did you really find it necessary to give her an N on her report card? I’m sure there are ways to show participation that don’t involve raising your hand and speaking.”
Ms. Serval pulled back and gave her skirt a tug.
“Well, she’s doing great academically, really, Mr. Corallis. I wanted you to have a chance to see her interim grades, since you missed the scheduled conference.”
“The office gave you my message about my youngest getting sick, right?”
“Yes, of course. I completely understand and sent you an email about rescheduling.”
She had? Crap. He had a vague recollection of one that he’d planned to get back to. And forgot.
“Please understand, the whole report card is computer based now,” she said, redirecting the conversation. “We have to input a grade or letter, and there are criteria we have to follow to be fair. I couldn’t put anything else, given the situation. I do understand the reason and I understand that she’s getting therapy for her selective mutism and to help her heal from her—your—loss. But it’s more than that. Lately, she acts as though she doesn’t care. As though she’s not paying attention. Zoning out in the afternoons. And once this week, when I tried to correct something on her paper, she simply crossed her arms and sat at her desk staring at her paper for almost an hour. She refused to respond to anything I said. By working, of course. I don’t mean verbally.”
“An hour?” he asked, adjusting his balance on the chair. Why had she let Maddie sit there that long without calling Mrs. Eggers, the school counselor, or him, for that matter? Ms. Serval gathered the report-card papers, then clasped her hands.
“Not quite an hour,” she said, tipping her chin, “but I was doing what I could. Mrs. Eggers wasn’t here that day. She covers other schools certain days of the week. I had to keep seventeen other students on task, Mr. Corallis. I tried to get her attention as I kept teaching, and hoped she’d come around on her own. It was so close to the end of the day that I didn’t want to encourage the behavior by letting her go home early.”
“I don’t think she was trying to be difficult or manipulative.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that at all.”
Then, maybe he needed a hearing aid. Ms. Serval scratched her cheek.
“It’s just that we’re almost through the first quarter and I’m worried that if she withdraws more, as opposed to showing improvement, it’ll take its toll on the rest of her school year. I realize you’ve been taking her to a therapist and thought you could share these observations. I’ll be honest. I spoke to Mrs. Eggers, and she mentioned the option of putting her in Special Ed if things got worse.”
“No.” Ben couldn’t help it, but the mention of taking Maddie out of a regular classroom so early in the school year felt like a threat. “I’m sure that would be appropriate and helpful for a lot of kids, but Maddie isn’t learning disabled. Nor is she autistic. This is different. She belongs in a regular class with her peers,” he said, standing up. Ms. Serval quickly followed suit.
“I agree...if she doesn’t regress. Which is why I thought that maybe more interaction with kids casually, outside school, might help. This is just a suggestion. Actually an idea her art teacher gave me. A lot of children respond to art, and I teach an art club at the community center on weekends. I’d be more than happy to work outside school hours with her. If you think she won’t be comfortable with a group, I wouldn’t mind coming over and spending time with her. Her brothers could even join us if they wanted.”
Wow. Ben’s neck itched. Zoe had been an avid artist and photographer and used to tell him how much she enjoyed volunteering her skills at the school. No doubt Ms. Serval knew that. What he didn’t feel like sharing at this moment was that they were between therapists. He’d stopped taking Maddie to the one she’d been seeing and was still in the process of finding someone who’d do a better job of connecting with her. Even with medical coverage, nothing was free, and he’d expected her to show improvement at the couple hundred an hour the therapist charged.
He hadn’t bothered with family counseling, in spite of everyone bringing it up. He figured the boys were still young, and he... Well, he’d survived loss before. He’d pulled through that year in college, when his mother, who’d single-handedly raised him down in Virginia on nothing but waitressing jobs, had passed away from an undiagnosed tumor. That was when Zoe, a photography student, had come up to him in the library and asked if she could take candid shots for a project. She’d said that he had a distant look she wanted to capture. Everything had changed after that moment. It was then that he decided to join the marines. He’d needed to prove himself. Make something of that latchkey child his mom had sacrificed for. And for Zoe.
He’d survived.
But he hadn’t been a kid at the time, and with the changes Maddie’s teacher had noted over the past few weeks, he had to wonder if the sessions had indeed been doing any good at all. Or had the changes for worse occurred because he’d been devoting more time to his computer lately?
“Thanks, but I’ve already arranged for help outside school.” Not exactly the kind she was talking about, but not exactly a lie, either. He didn’t have details beyond the fact that Hope was a medical intern, so for all he knew she could be specializing in pediatric psychiatry. “Let’s see how she does over the next month or so. After the holidays.”
“Of course. Oh...” Ms. Serval picked up a blue folder and textbook from the corner of her desk and handed them to him. “I put together the work she missed today and some of the worksheets we’ll be doing tomorrow, just in case it turns out she’s coming down with something. Thanks so much for coming in here today. Maddie really is a sweetheart. I’m so sorry for all you’re going through.” She reached out, so he shook her hand. It felt limp.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Ben said. Then he escaped for the peace and quiet of his SUV.
A solid night’s sleep would be better, but that would have to wait until he made it home and got the kids to bed. Hopefully Ryan would have a good night, but that was about as predictable as peace in a war zone. He swore as he put the gear in Reverse. He’d never inflated the guest bed in Chad’s room. If Chad fell asleep early... Well...if any kid could sleep through the pump noise...
He pulled into the airport parking lot at 1700 hours and found a spot two lanes and six cars north of the target entrance. The sun was setting, and the edge of the cold front they were expecting had definitely arrived. He scribbled Hope on the back of a sheet of paper he ripped from a notepad he kept in the console for whenever Maddie forgot hers, and headed for baggage claim thirteen. He stopped briefly to check the monitors in case changes had been made since he’d called to check on the flight earlier that afternoon. Thirteen it was.
The hustle and bustle of people headed their own way, doing their own thing, was nice. Like being camouflaged in a crowd. He needed a few minutes of feeling invisible today, but traffic had made him later than he’d hoped.
He waited for a passenger shuttle car to drive by and then crossed over to the carousel. He crumpled the paper in his hand. Hope was hard to miss. Other passengers had already left with their luggage, save for a family of four and a man in a suit on his cell phone. The slender woman he was certain was Hope stood about five-five or six and wore a bright orange scarf that framed her face like a headband, holding back a mass of dark curls. She wore flat sandals, one of those flowing ankle-length skirts in a bright pattern and an orange sleeveless top. As a marine, he was trained to register details. If she didn’t have a sweater on her, she was in for a surprise. She stayed close to two green suitcases as she scanned the opposite direction, while alternating between fidgeting with one of her big hoop earrings and gripping an oversize woven purse against her side.
“Hope Alwanga?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her hand pressed against her chest. No doubt she was relieved she hadn’t been forgotten, alone in a foreign airport.
“Ben Corallis.” He extended his hand, and she shook it firmly. Her full lips spread into a bright smile.
“Ben. It’s so wonderful to meet you. Jack speaks so highly of his family.”
Ben nodded, releasing her hand slowly, then stuffed his into the front pockets of his jeans.
“We miss him around here.” Jack was one of the few guys he’d hung around with whenever he was on leave. He wished he still lived here. “These your only bags?” he asked, in case the airline had lost any.
“Yes.”
“You don’t happen to have a sweater you want to pull out of one of these before we hit the road, do you? It’s a little chilly out,” he said. He wasn’t offering his sweatshirt. No one wore his favorite marine sweatshirt. Either Jack should have warned her about the weather or she should have checked her destination weather on the internet.
“Oh, I have one here.” She reached into her shoulder sack and dug out a wad of cloth so small, he knew it wouldn’t be warm enough. She set her bag between her feet while she slipped it on. Thin as an old undershirt. “I could use some cool, fresh air, actually,” she said.
“First time in a plane, huh?”
“Yes,” she said, closing her warm brown eyes briefly. “I’m going to try to forget that I have to do this again in order to get home.”
He picked up her luggage as she slung her bag back onto her shoulder.
“I can get one of those,” she offered.
Not likely, unless she was packing solid muscle in those thin arms. Her suitcases felt like a few elephants had stowed away.
“I have them,” Ben said. “Car’s this way.” He headed toward the glass doors closest to where he’d parked and heard a gasp behind him when the second set of doors opened, letting in a gust of wind. He looked over his shoulder. She slapped her hands down on her skirt to keep it from blowing and hunched her shoulders. Welcome to a Pennsylvanian cold front.
He glanced at the parking lot and gave in. He really wanted to get home, but she was Jack’s friend and his guest. He backed up enough for the doors to close.
“Go back in and I’ll bring the car around. Just keep an eye out for a silver Expedition,” he said, wondering belatedly if she knew what an Expedition looked like.
“No, no. I’m fine. It just took me by surprise.” She fisted the sides of her skirt so it wouldn’t blow. “Lead the way.”
Well, okay, then. Ben headed out. Dark had settled, and the wind chill was pretty uncomfortable, even for him. And this was only November. She wasn’t going to last three months. He let her into the car before loading her bags into the back, then jogged around to the driver’s side and got in. Hope’s laugh caught him off guard. He’d have expected the cold to have irritated her more than the plane trip.
“I’d say I got my fresh air,” she said, rubbing her arms.
That was one way to think of it.
“I guess you did. Seat belt,” he said, nodding toward her shoulder strap and waiting for her to buckle up.
He cranked the heat as soon as the engine was running. The dash read forty-three degrees. Likely in the thirties with the wind factor. He backed out of the parking spot and hit the road.
“Just wait till our first negative temperature day,” he said. “Fahrenheit,” he added, knowing she’d be used to Celsius. He’d spent enough time overseas to do the conversions in his head. “It feels close to two or three degrees Celsius out there.”
Her eyes widened.
“Wow. Twelve is cold in Nairobi. We’re actually warming up this time of year. My brother won’t believe that I braved this in sandals,” she said, grinning.
“Might have been more tolerable a few hours ago.” She was enjoying this? First-time trip. New country. Maybe adrenaline was warming her up.
“Jack suggested that I wait and buy a few warm items here, since nothing in our stores was suitable for your winters,” she said.
“Makes sense,” he said. He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, unsure of what else to say. He couldn’t talk about the weather the entire way home. How was this supposed to work for months? He hated gray areas, and he wasn’t quite sure how to treat her. Child-care helper or family friend?
The silver bracelets on her wrist sounded like wind chimes every time she reached up to touch her earring. She rubbed her hands in her lap and looked out the window. There wasn’t much she could see from the freeway in the dark. He looked at the dash clock, wishing the airport was closer to his house.
“Thank you,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m...I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m grateful for being invited into your home. I’ll do what I can to help while I’m here.”
Ben scratched his jaw, then settled his hand back on the wheel. He couldn’t really take credit for inviting her, though Jack had insisted that Ben would be doing both him and his friend’s sister a huge favor. Jack had never asked him for anything before. He’d said her family wanted to be sure she’d be safe...with good people. Her brother did take the phone and speak to him briefly during one of the calls. Sounded like a sharp guy. Joked about keeping her safe, especially from men. Despite his tone, Ben knew he wasn’t joking. He couldn’t blame him. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Hope Alwanga could easily land a job as a fashion model and never make it back to her medical career. She’d be turning a head or two during her stay.
“Jack told me you’re in medicine. Pediatrics?” he asked, refocusing.
“No. Well, yes, a few young patients at the emergency room I’m interning in right now, but mostly adults. Eventually, I’ll join my parents’ orthopedic practice. They work a lot with professional athletes.”
Whew. She came from a family of docs. And money, or so it sounded, if they were working with athletes. And she was here, of all places, to help out with his kids? He’d been told that she was stressed, but stable, and needed a break...but, shoot, a break to him would be the Bahamas.
“So you must have a lot of little nieces or nephews,” he said. “Younger siblings?” Some sort of experience with watching kids?
“No. I’m the youngest. It’s just my older brother, Simba—Jack’s friend—and me. I can’t wait to meet your children, though.”
This time Ben laughed.
Forget a few months. Hope wasn’t going to last a day in his house.
