Counting by 7s

by Holly Goldberg Sloan

  I’m surprised when Pattie only says:

  “Quang-ha, you can arrange the furniture if you have a better idea how it should go.”

  I’m not surprised when he does.

  Quang-ha puts everything in a different place, setting the couch and the chairs on an angle. He doesn’t follow the lines of the rectangle room; he makes his own shapes.

  And when he’s done I want to say:

  “There is a qualitative difference in the visual effect of the room.”

  But instead I say:

  “The room looks better.”

  Quang-ha just shrugs, but I can see he’s not scowling anymore.

  This is the first thing we’ve ever done together, and I realize that it feels strange.

  For both of us.

  And I’m forced to admit that being in a room with a teenage boy who appreciates the effect of shattered glass slices of color makes me feel better about the world.

  Chapter 35

  Dell pulled his name out of the mail slot for #28, replacing it with a slip of paper on which Quang-ha had artfully written Nguyen.

  He then made a beeline for his car, driving away just moments before Lenore Cole pulled up to the curb.

  He headed straight for the closest bar, which was called the Hammer. Most people in Bakersfield went to the Hammer when they crashed their car or lost electricity in a heat wave and had all of their ice cream melt.

  The bar was a misery magnet. No one put on their best sweater or their skinny jeans to go to the Hammer.

  That’s why Dell felt at home there.

  Now, as he drove into the parking lot, he let out a sigh of relief. He had gotten away from Pattie Nguyen.

  Dell found himself mumbling out loud as he opened the car door.

  “Who died and put her in charge?!”

  Then he remembered that two people actually had passed away. And maybe he was the one who had inadvertently put Pattie Nguyen in charge by getting her pushy daughter involved.

  All Dell really knew with certainty was that now someone was steaming mounds of spinach in a kitchen that had never under his watch seen a vegetable in its raw form.

  At least his underwear wall was being washed.

  Once inside the dimly lit bar, Dell found a seat. As he leaned forward onto the sticky countertop he took a pen from his pocket and slid the thin cocktail napkin closer.

  He was looking to regain control, and so he returned to the Dell Duke System of the Strange.

  He wrote:

  1 = MISFIT

  2 = ODDBALL

  3 = LONE WOLF

  4 = WEIRDO

  5 = GENIUS

  And then he added his newest category:

  6 = DICTATOR

  Mai had to take a second city bus across town to the Gardens of Glenwood.

  And she was not happy about it.

  She called her mother from the salon and that was when she found out about the visit from child services.

  Shouldn’t someone have told her what was going on?

  Now, an hour later, Mai’s arms ached from carrying her heavy backpack.

  But inside she felt a different pain.

  She had to question the logic of pretending to live in Dell Duke’s apartment.

  Maybe Willow should have gone right after the accident into foster care.

  Her mother had made it clear. They weren’t in any position to take on another kid.

  She had tried to help, but what if what she had done ended up hurting Willow even more?

  Mai aimed her right shoe, which wasn’t more than a satin slipper, and stepped down hard on an acorn.

  But the nut lying in the middle of the cracked sidewalk didn’t squish under her foot.

  Instead it was solid and tough and it hurt. It was like stepping on a pointy rock.

  Mai felt her whole body stiffen.

  So many things caused unexpected pain.

  Mai kicked the acorn and it flew across the sidewalk out onto the street. She watched as a passing car ran right over the still-green nut.

  Mai moved to the curb to get a better look.

  The acorn hadn’t flattened. It rested on its side in the middle of the road, unharmed.

  Mai dropped her backpack and went to retrieve it.

  The acorn was a survivor.

  Mai stuffed it into her pocket.

  Lucky. That’s what the nut was.

  When Willow wasn’t paying attention, Mai would slip it someplace she would find it.

  Chapter 36

  I’m exhausted.

  I’ve helped transform the apartment of a single, lazy, hoarding hermit into a family’s living space.

  And this has been done insanely fast.

  Now as the bamboo steamer gets going, and Pattie has me chopping up green onions, the buzzer rings.

  Lenore Cole is downstairs.

  Once a week, since the accident, I’ve gone out to Jamison.

  I’ve had a complete physical exam. I’ve had three sit-downs with a psychiatrist (Dr. Ron McDevitt) and I’ve seen Lenore Cole twice.

  There’s been talk of permanent placement in foster care, but it’s not easy finding spots for older kids.

  I met a girl in the bathroom during my visit last Thursday who said that once your baby teeth fall out, no one wants you.

  She also told me that prospective parents always pick the blond kids first.

  I don’t think that she was trying to be a bully or anything.

  We both had hair the color of ink.

  The social worker isn’t with us long.

  Which is a good thing.

  I guess we passed the test.

  Pattie’s not trying to be a foster parent, but still, they have requirements, even for the temporary custody people.

  In the hallway, Lenore Cole says:

  “We will find the right place for you. That’s our mission.”

  I don’t answer.

  I want to see this lady out the front gate and into her car and off the street and out of town and then removed from the county and then the whole state and finally relocated to the place they call Tornado Alley in Kansas.

  But it’s not her fault.

  I’m the Problem.

  Maybe there are all kinds of available foster homes in Kansas.

  I’m in the shadows of the entryway watching as the social worker gets in her car and pulls away from the curb.

  She drives right by Mai.

  Just seeing the graceful teenager changes everything for me.

  When I tell her that we have a pretend room complete with Semper Fi bunk beds, she rotates in her shell.

  She doesn’t have an actual shell, of course, but whatever hard casing that protects her from life literally shifts before my eyes.

  Apparently, she’s long wanted to climb a metal ladder before she goes to sleep.

  Maybe it’s from years of sleeping on a floor.

  I don’t want to disappoint her by saying that all of this was just for show so they wouldn’t haul me away.

  Once in the apartment, I thank Pattie for everything she did today.

  To my great relief, she is finally sitting down.

  The world’s ultimate pragmatist just shrugs and says:

  This translates to mean:

  What we expect rarely occurs; what we don’t expect is what happens.

  I reach over and take Pattie’s hand. I’m surprised as I do this. I’m too old to be acting this way, but I can’t stop myself. I manage to say:

  “It’s not a scientific way to view event sequence, but given what’s gone on in my life, I completely understand.”

  It’s the most that I’ve been able to communicate in a long time.

  And I’m not sure if I’m just tired, or i
f something has changed, but as I look at her, with my hand in hers, I smile.

  My teeth don’t even stick to my lips.

  And Pattie doesn’t turn away.

  Everyone is really hungry, even me, and I never have an appetite anymore.

  Pattie tries to reach Dell, but he doesn’t answer his cell phone.

  So we have dinner without him.

  Then what’s especially strange is that suddenly it feels as if we all really do live at the Gardens of Glenwood.

  We eat our food at the red linoleum-topped table and toss the paper plates (Dell doesn’t have real ones) in the trash.

  Pattie has Quang-ha immediately take down the garbage to the Dumpster because the kitchen is a trash-free zone now.

  We all help clean up and put away the leftovers, and then we make ourselves at home on the newly acquired, used furniture.

  I can’t believe that she has the energy, but Pattie starts to fold Dell’s mountain of clean underwear into tight, compressed squares.

  They look like they come out of some kind of vending machine.

  That’s how precise she is.

  Quang-ha is in love with Dell’s large TV and he finds a program where Japanese soccer players use their heads to smash clay pots.

  We all watch.

  It is strangely addicting.

  I know that these blows to the skull can cause long-term health issues of a very serious nature.

  But right now that seems like the last thing I should be worried about. So I let it go.

  For a brief moment, because everything in this room is so different, I forget that I don’t have a mother or a father or a place to call home.

  I lean back on the sofa.

  And I feel a sharp pain in my right hip.

  When I put my hand there I realize that I’m sitting on a small, green acorn. I have no idea how it got on the couch.

  Apples grow on apple trees. And cherries grow on cherry trees. But we don’t say that an acorn grows on an acorn tree.

  Things like that are interesting.

  At least to some people.

  I hold the little nut (which is by definition a fruit) in the palm of my hand. Mai is next to me, and she smiles as she says:

  “Maybe that’s a lucky acorn.”

  I slip it into my pocket, because maybe she’s right.

  It is a seed, after all, and they are by definition the beginning of something.

  I then rest my head on the back of the sofa and even though my eyes are all watery, I can make out the full moon as a fuzzy amber-and-green lollipop on the other side of the skylight.

  And that’s not a bad thing.

  Chapter 37

  It was late when Dell finally stumbled into his apartment.

  He literally didn’t recognize the place, and not just because Pattie was asleep on the new Salvation Army couch and Quang-ha was sprawled out on the carpet nearby under a red blanket.

  Dell shut the door and moved into the hallway. Willow and Mai could be seen sleeping in the second bedroom in the Semper Fi bunk beds.

  He wondered why they hadn’t all gone home, and then he remembered they didn’t have a car, and right now, neither did he. He’d walked home.

  After staring in wonder at all the changes, he finally made it to his room, where his bed was made up with Pattie’s sheets and a fluffy comforter.

  Dell planted himself, face-first, on top of the mattress.

  And that’s where he was only five hours later when the sound of the shower in the bathroom woke him up.

  It was not a normal noise.

  He’d never heard running water in his own apartment.

  Dell opened his eyes and realized the sound was from the bathroom. He squinted at the digital eyes of his bedside clock and saw 5:21 A.M.

  Who would get up this early?

  It was one of them. And he had a good idea which one.

  Dell would have given his left foot for another hour of uninterrupted sleep.

  He shut his eyes and suddenly saw himself minus everything below the ankle on his weaker side.

  That made him wonder if the injury meant he’d collect some kind of disability payment from the school district.

  He used his right foot to drive, and most people did, so he guessed the left foot didn’t bring in as much cash in a settlement.

  Isn’t that the way insurance companies worked? Everything had some kind of predetermined price?

  Maybe it was better to give up a left arm.

  And then there was a knock on the door and the Dell Duke Internal Idiotic Discussion Forum was interrupted by the voice of Pattie Nguyen.

  “Are you awake?”

  He wanted to say that he was now. Instead he answered:

  “Been up for hours.”

  He hoped it sounded deeply sarcastic, but she answered:

  “Me too.”

  Pattie pushed the door open and entered talking:

  “Social Services is coming back next week. Until they find a permanent place for Willow, I think that it would be easier if we just stayed here. I can’t keep cleaning up after you.”

  Dell was silent. Not because he didn’t have an opinion but because he didn’t have the energy this early in the morning to scream at the top of his lungs.

  Pattie forged on:

  “I saw a notice on the board in the laundry room. Unit 22. Just down the hall. Looking for a roommate.”

  Dell shut his eyes. This had to be a dream.

  Except that in his dreams, usually he was hiding. And often his body had mysteriously been painted bright blue.

  Dell opened his eyes. Pattie was already heading to the door.

  “I’m going to get the e-mail address. It’s not too early for you to send a message saying you are interested. It’s temporary. Just until we get this all straightened out.”

  Dell had seen Sadhu in the parking garage, but they had never even so much as said hello.

  Now at an insane hour of the morning he was sitting across from the man. The crazy Nguyen woman had insisted that he send an e-mail right away and then to his horror his laptop showed an immediate reply.

  The guy who was just down the hall wanted him to come over right away and meet.

  Shouldn’t the man be asleep?

  What was wrong with all these people?

  Sadhu cleared his throat and said:

  “I’m a vegetarian.”

  Dell nodded. Sadhu looked suddenly hopeful.

  “You are a vegetarian too?”

  Dell shook his head. He wasn’t going to lie, but he also wasn’t going to go into detail about his meat loaf obsession.

  Because Dell was so tired, he looked appealingly like someone who had been to mime school.

  Or at the very least, believed strongly in the power of nonverbal communication.

  His answers were a series of head movements, punctuated by yawning, raised eyebrows, and semi-swallowed hiccups.

  And that is why he was approved as a roommate.

  Minutes after he took his seat, Pattie Nguyen came down the hall and wrote Sadhu Kumar a check for one month’s rent for the second bedroom in unit 22 in the apartment complex where Dell already rented unit 28.

  She would cover his expenses living with Sadhu, and Dell would continue to make the payment on his place.

  As he shook hands on the deal, Dell found enough of a voice to make a statement. He said:

  “Spicy food gives me indigestion.”

  Sadhu nodded his head as if he understood, but Dell felt certain the guy was pickling peppers on his stovetop.

  Chapter 38

  It’s all just “temporary.”

  That’s what Pattie says.

  I believe this is her favorite word.

  What is more temporary than nail
polish? No wonder she has such an attachment to the concept.

  Pattie explains that until the right place can be found for me, we will all stay at the Gardens in unit 28.

  There will be weekly home visitations from Social Services, and the coming and going would be too much.

  I don’t explain that everything in the world is temporary, because I don’t get into those conversations.

  I say that I understand.

  But I feel bad for Dell Duke.

  Not just because Pattie and I saw his underwear mountain (which maybe is why he agreed to move down the hall).

  Back home, when I used to sit in my garden, I liked to observe birds, and not just the green-rumped parrots but also the migrating species.

  I think now about how small birds often move in large flocks.

  From a distance, it can even look like smoke.

  It is unclear why they suddenly shift directions.

  The birds appear to have lost their individual intention.

  They are part of a bigger organization of life.

  And they accept that.

  Something inside them gives in. Scientists don’t know what that is.

  Right now I’m in a flock.

  And so is Dell Duke.

  Whether he likes it or not.

  I watch as Dell gathers together some of his clothing, his toothbrush, and a container of what looks like hairspray.

  He heads down the hallway to Sadhu Kumar’s apartment with a heavy step.

  He’s not stomping, but it’s close.

  Who can blame him?

  Two hours later, with Mai and Quang-ha awake and helping, Dell’s work clothes, as well as his oversized sweatpants, his collection of sandals, and enough underwear to last six months, are all jammed in the Kumar apartment’s second bedroom in the tiny closet.

  Only a garbage bag of old T-shirts stays behind.

  And since Dell’s bureau and closet are empty, Pattie borrows his car and brings over more things from the nail salon.

  Mai goes with her.

  I don’t think that I’ve ever seen my teenage friend so happy.