“He’s okay. Billy’s always okay. That’s why they like him so much – he gets the best grades in his class. That’s all they really care about, anyway, is how many A’s you get. That’s probably why they’re getting a divorce, because I didn’t get enough A’s.”
“Come on, Alice,” I said. “You know that’s not true. You just told me your father said he was in love with somebody.”
“Yes, but if I’d been good enough, maybe he wouldn’t have had to fall in love with somebody else. Maybe we’d have been enough.”
I stood up and then squatted down in front of the couch so that our eyes were exactly level.
“Don’t ever believe that, Alice. Promise me. If your parents get divorced, it’s not because of something you did or didn’t do. It’s between them, and it’s not your fault. Okay?”
Alice’s eyes never left mine. “But see, it’s not just that I have this problem in my brain, it’s that I don’t really belong to them. I don’t belong to anybody. Last night Mommy said to Daddy that maybe they should never have adopted me or had Billy – that way she’d be the only one to suffer.”
“Oh, Alice, Alice.” I gathered her up in my arms. It was bad enough to hear your parents arguing about a divorce, but to discover you are adopted at the same time is just too much. “Hadn’t they told you before?”
Alice waggled her head back and forth against my shoulder.
“Well, they should have. They’ve told other people, and it’s in your reports. They wanted you so much – especially your mom – and they were so happy when they found you.”
Alice peeked up at me. “How do you know?” she asked.
“Your mother told me herself. She also told me you were a very beautiful baby.”
Alice sat up. “Beautiful baby,” she repeated. “With holes in her head.”
“Alice. That doesn’t help.”
Alice shrugged. “Well, what are we going to do?”
I shrugged myself. “I don’t know. We’re just going to have to work at it.”
Alice, Billy, and Tara all arrived together at Alice’s next session. I stared at the trio in surprise. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Can we come in?” Billy asked, obviously in charge.
“Sure, but tell me what’s going on.”
All three sat down in a row on the couch, Billy in the middle.
“Well, we have this idea,” he said, “and we decided to come and check it out with you.”
I had to admit one thing. Alice did seem to be right about Billy. He did appear to be very much okay, especially for nine years old.
I nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Well, see, like, we’ve got this real mess at our house. Alice said she told you about it.”
I nodded again, unable to take my eyes off this bright-eyed, verbal kid. Even Tara seemed to be letting him lead the way.
“Well, the first thing we thought of was to track down this girlfriend of Dad’s and try to get rid of her – like, poison her or scare her off. But that could end up in a lot of trouble. So then we decided that she sounds like she’s pretty young, so we figured we could tell her how old Dad is, and Tara thought maybe if she saw us and thought she’d have to take care of us maybe she wouldn’t be so crazy about being with Dad.”
Alice said, “Sigmund did not think this was a wise idea. Particularly since I never even want to lay eyes on that person. But then we thought, I thought anyway, maybe we could talk to Dad’s boss or somebody and get him transferred back to Kansas. He never acted like this back there.”
“But I told them that wouldn’t work,” Tara said. “It would just make him mad to get both demoted and lose his girlfriend.”
“You’re probably right,” I said.
“So then we decided to work on Mom instead,” said Billy, taking over again. “She’s the worst off. I mean Alice was bad in the beginning, but at least she’s got us,” he said, and Tara nodded. “And being adopted’s not such a big deal if you’re not alone.”
“But Mom hasn’t got anybody,” Billy continued. “Like, anybody her own age. Except that dumb Dr. Volpe, and she feels even worse when she comes back from seeing him. It’s, like, all she does with him is talk about her problems and so that’s all she thinks about and it makes her feel even more terrible.”
“Get to the plan, Billy,” Alice whispered. “Somebody else will be here in a few minutes.”
“Okay. Okay. What we decided was that Mom ought to get a job – but the trouble is she hasn’t ever worked. So we had to think about what she’d be good at, and Alice got the idea because of the flowers and her garden.”
“We have this garden in the back,” Alice said.
I nodded. “Your mother told me about that and about how you were helping her with it.”
“Yes. It’s really nice. I like doing it and Mom’s flowers are beautiful, and then she puts them in bowls all over the house and they look wonderful.”
“You’re the one who’d better hurry up, Alice,” Billy said.
“I know. So we decided she’d be good at being a florist – working at a florist’s, I mean. So Tara volunteered to go into that flower shop just off Spring Street; she kind of knows the owner. I gave her one of Mom’s bowls of flowers, and she showed it to him and he said he’d be interested in talking to Mom.”
Alice looked at me hard. “Sigmund thinks it’s a good idea, but now we don’t know what to say to Mom. So we decided to come ask you.”
“Mmm” was all I could get out. I was overwhelmed at how enterprising these three kids were. At least I could tell them that.
“You have been doing some pretty impressive brainstorming – trying out all kinds of ideas, not criticizing each other, being supportive, and I think you’ve come up with a really good idea.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Billy said. “But what about Mom? I mean what do we actually say? It isn’t like she’s ever tried to get a job before.”
“Why don’t you just tell her the truth, like you did me? It certainly shows how much you love her and how much you’ve been thinking about her, and she’ll be glad to hear that. And then since Tara knows the man who owns the flower shop, maybe she could go along with your mother and take another flower arrangement.”
“Yeah, sure. I can do that. You just get me the flowers, Alice.”
“All right. That’s easy, especially since Mom will know. But what about Daddy?” Alice wanted to know. “I think somebody ought to talk to him and find out how serious he is and everything.”
Three pairs of eyes stared at me without blinking. There was no mistaking their meaning.
“How about Dr. Volpe?” I asked.
“Daddy hates Dr. Volpe,” Alice and Billy said in chorus.
“Listen,” I said. “I’m no marriage counselor. Be fair. I’m a learning consultant.”
“Well, that’s okay,” Billy replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Looks to me like Dad’s into learning things.”
“Billy,” Alice reprimanded. “Don’t be fresh. But remember, Mary, I asked you once before if you would talk to him. I mean you do have lots of parent conferences, and you could start out talking about me, couldn’t you?”
“Yes. I guess I could do that. I could try, anyway.”
Alice called as soon as she got home, whispering into the phone. “He’s gone. Gone for real now. He left Billy and me a note saying he’s staying at a friend’s apartment. He didn’t say what friend. Anyway, here’s the number.” She rattled it off and hung up.
At least Alice didn’t seem heartbroken about being adopted. I blessed Billy and Tara for matter-of-factly accepting her adoption and for involving her in a plan of action. Problem-solving is the best therapy in the world.
I tried to reach Mr. Martin early in the morning and late at night, but there was never an answer. It seemed unlikely to me that the apartment where he was staying belonged to his girlfriend, since no one seemed to be there. More likely he’d chosen some middle ground – perhaps moved i
n with someone else who was separated or divorced, or at least had given that number.
I wasn’t able to reach Mr. Martin, but I did have lunch with Mrs. Martin. She told me about how the children had come to talk to her about getting a job and how touched she’d been – and that she’d decided to get up her nerve and go with Tara and talk to the florist, and how Alice and Billy waited across the street, and when she got the job they took her to have ice cream to celebrate.
She’d been working at the florist’s for only about two weeks, but she loved it. She couldn’t imagine being paid for something that was so much fun. She said the only thing that had worried her was not being there when Alice and Billy got home from school. But then Alice had suggested that she talk to Mr. D’Ippolito, the florist, and he’d been so nice. He’d arranged her hours so she worked from eight o’clock until three and could eat a sandwich right there at the shop instead of taking a lunch hour, and that also meant she’d lost a few pounds. So she, Alice, and Billy all left together in the morning, and they either walked home or waited for her to pick them up after school. Of course, the school year was almost over, and summer would be a problem.
I told her I didn’t think she needed to worry with Alice, Billy, and Tara around.
“Sorry you had trouble reaching me,” Mr. Martin said apologetically, ducking a little as he came through my office door, surprising me. Somehow I hadn’t expected him to be so large. “I’ve been out of town a good bit the last month,” he said.
I stretched out my hand. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now. Alice was eager for us to meet.”
Mr. Martin shook my hand, almost pulling me toward him in his eagerness. “Yes. Tell me how she is, how she’s doing.”
“She’s just fine,” I said, smiling. “In spite of everything – your separation, even the discovery that she was adopted – she’s kept on growing, doing better in school and better at home.”
Mr. Martin sat down on the couch, his big, lean frame collapsing. He sank back against the cushions. “You know,” he said, skipping over the separation and adoption, “I never have understood what’s wrong with Alice. Everybody we took her to, and we took her to a lot of people, seemed to come up with a different opinion.”
I nodded. “That often happens with children who have very mild learning disabilities. The problems are so subtle that they go undetected until the child herself or himself begins to feel that something’s wrong, and then the emotional problems set in and grow and grow until they disguise the original learning problem.
“In Alice’s case the neurologist was right in her evaluation. Alice does have a mild learning disability; some would call it dyscalculia, which only means the inability to learn math by ordinary classroom methods. The neurologist called it minimal brain dysfunction – MBD – a term rarely used now. If Alice were seen by a neurologist today, he would probably diagnose ADD – Attention Deficit Disorder. But by whatever name it’s called, it’s not something in Alice’s imagination or yours, but rather some small, very real disruption in the neural connections in her brain, probably in the parietal lobe. It doesn’t affect her overall intelligence, but it does make processing of spatial and mathematical information more difficult.
“And then, as you know, Alice’s early education was … well … unorthodox at the least, and there were lots of emotional traumas going on as well. But you can really be proud of the progress she’s made … I’m sorry,” I interrupted myself. “I’m talking too much.”
“No. No, not at all.” Mr. Martin leaned forward, large hands clasped between his knees. “I want to know. I want to know everything. I don’t get much news nowadays.”
I sat quietly, finding myself liking this big, open-faced man. “Since you called me at Bob’s apartment – he’s a friend from work – you obviously know I’m not living at home. And knowing Alice as I do, I suspect you know a good bit more.”
I nodded.
“I call home often,” he went on, and I was interested that he still thought of his former living quarters as “home.” “But nobody is very eager to talk to me. I don’t blame them, but I want them to know I never meant for this to happen.”
Mr. Martin cleared his throat, hesitated, then started again. “Sometimes I wish … I mean I just can’t seem to … I don’t want to get you involved with personal things, but I just want to make sure they’re all right. Alice and Billy and Edna, too.”
Edna. I realized I had never heard Mrs. Martin’s first name before. I found myself feeling unexpectedly sympathetic toward both Mr. and Mrs. Martin. His concern for his family certainly appeared to be sincere (I had to remind myself he’d gotten himself into this situation), and I loved Mrs. Martin’s courage in finding a job.
“They’re all fine,” I said.
“Thank you. I wish you could talk Alice and Billy into coming out to dinner with me some night, but I know that’s not fair to ask.” Mr. Martin stood up. “But please tell Alice I love them both very much.”
“I will,” I promised as I followed Mr. Martin to the door.
Alice plunked her books on the desk, took off her shoes, and sat cross-legged, Indian style, on the couch, feet tucked beneath her.
“Wait till I tell you. First of all, Mom and I went shopping. Mom’s lost so much weight she needed a new bathing suit, and I got one, too, and some other summer stuff. It’s really cool. Even Tara says so. And Mom promised I can have everything new for school next fall. There’s only two days of school left now, so she said it wasn’t worth getting too much now.
“Anyway, while we were at the mall, Mom decided all of a sudden to get her hair cut. They cut it really short and it looks so good I’m thinking maybe I’ll get mine cut, too, but maybe not. Tara doesn’t want me to. Incidentally, we’re all going to both tennis and day camp so we don’t even have to get a sitter.
“Anyway, more good news. We haven’t got our report cards yet, but Mr. Renner says I’ve passed everything and gotten really good grades in some subjects.”
“Congratulations, Alice –”
“Wait, now listen to this. On Saturday afternoon, Tara and I were up in my bedroom playing some new records I got when Mom and I were shopping, and the doorbell rang. Billy was over at his friend’s house swimming, and Mom was out shopping with these two friends of hers from work. So I went down to answer it, and it was Daddy.
“I didn’t know what to do, but he looked so sort of sad that I forgot about being mad at him, and so I asked him if he wanted to come in. But then once he was in I didn’t know what to talk to him about, so I got Tara to come downstairs ’cause she’s really good with people, and she found our Monopoly board and the three of us started playing.
“I guess we must have been having a good time, ’cause all of a sudden Mom was back and Billy was back and it was almost six o’clock.
“I was really scared, ’cause I was sure Mom was going to have a fit. But you know Mom. You never know what she’s going to do, especially these days, and she didn’t even act mad one little bit. In fact, she even asked him to stay for supper.
“Daddy said he was sorry, he couldn’t – but then, listen to this, he asked if he could come back the next day and she said yes.
“Well, he came back and he stayed for dinner and he was still there in the morning, and Billy and I are pretty sure he didn’t sleep on the chaise lounge, either. I checked when they were all downstairs having breakfast. The bed was all made, but Mom’s book was still in exactly the same place on the chaise lounge that it had been the afternoon before.”
Even Alice had to stop talking for a minute to catch her breath.
I smiled at her. “That’s a lot of good news, Alice. I hope things work out for your mom and dad. He stopped by here, you know, and I certainly got the impression that he missed you all. He especially wanted me to tell you how much he loved you. But no matter what happens with your parents, however that goes, I’m really proud of you. You’ve sure come a long way, babe.”
Alice smiled ba
ck at me, hair glistening, skin glowing. She smoothed the pleat in her new short, split skirt. “You know what I’ve been thinking lately?”
“What?”
“Well, what I think is that maybe the reason I was so easy to fix is that there just wasn’t that much wrong with me in the first place.”
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! A hundred choruses went off inside my head simultaneously. Some days I think I’m going to work forever.
Charlie
Charlie arrived at our first tutoring session carrying a large piece of paper, dropping it twice on the way up to the office.
At the top of the stairs he handed it to me, peering up through round, foggy glasses, his black hair plastered down on his forehead with water, sections of hair rising slightly upward as they dried into black pointy spikes. Charlie was tall for an eight-year-old and slightly pigeon-toed, often stumbling over his own feet. Now he stood one foot on top of the other as if to keep them from getting tangled up with each other, looking like an oversized crane. And it wasn’t just Charlie’s feet that got tangled.
“Mom said I should show you this. She said to tell you it was tiptical.”
I had a sudden impulse just to gather Charlie up and somehow smooth him out and untangle him. But it was too soon for that. Instead I asked, “Typical? Why, Charlie? What is it?”
Charlie shrugged. “Just a story I wrote last year at the end of third. It’s called ‘The Fiery Bird.’”
I looked closely at the paper. There was some sort of yellow, red, and black picture on the top of the wide-lined primary paper with letters printed underneath. I tried to decipher the words, but I couldn’t.
“Could you read it to me, Charlie?”
“Sure. I’ve already read it to Mrs. Hawes – you know, my last year’s third-grade teacher. She said it was very exciting.”
Charlie began reading. “The fiery bird has struck again at the city. The city is wrecked.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Let me write it down.” I realized that Charlie’s story was totally incomprehensible without his translation. “Okay, I’m ready.”
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