Life Is A Foreign Language

by Rayne E. Golay

  “It’s Marley. He’s had words with his foster mother, and now he wants to leave the family. He’s very upset. Could you spare some time to talk to him today?”

  She glanced at her watch—it was still early. “Yes. I’ll see him. He’ll be at the clinic, I suppose.”

  “I could bring him to your house.”

  “Michael, you know better than that. I’ll be working with Marley as a therapist. I never see clients in my own home. Protects my privacy and prevents any ambiguity as to the purpose of our appointments.”

  “You’re right. Sorry, sweetie, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “What time will he be there?”

  “He’s at the clinic now. Wilma is looking after him until you get there.” After a short pause he added, “You were on your way out. Where are you going?”

  She hesitated. “I hadn’t planned on telling you, but I’m going to buy an outfit for the Festival.”

  “That’s nice. Wish I could come with you, but I have to see patients. Care to have lunch with me?”

  Her heart made a little jump of joy, but she was concerned. “What about Marley?”

  “This isn’t an emergency. He’ll be all right at the clinic till you get there.”

  “In that case, yes, I’d love to have lunch.”

  They agreed to meet at “Via Veneto,” an Italian restaurant at the mall, familiar to them both.

  Nina hung up and left the house before something else detained her. Whistling along with the radio, she made good time through the slack traffic.

  In the large downtown mall, she sauntered along the wide aisles, peering in windows. Tucked away between a Gap and a souvenir shop Nina chanced upon a small boutique. The selection wasn’t large, but the reception was professional and kind. The saleslady showed her an off-white Thai silk dress with a canary yellow braided belt. When the clerk held out a pair of sling-back high heeled sandals, echoing the yellow of the belt, Nina’s heart lifted. Maybe shopping isn’t going to be such an ordeal. She took the outfit into the dressing room to try it on.

  The color of the dress enhanced her tan, and the belt accentuated her slim waist. With the skirt to mid knee her legs looked taller, her feet slender in the elegant sandals. She could never resist pretty shoes; this pair was a jewel. She had found her outfit, elegant and understated.

  As she was about to drape the dress on a hanger, her cell phone rang. Wearing only bra and panties, she rummaged in her handbag and found the phone in a side pocket. Before pressing the “answer” button she glanced at the display window. Michael again; it must be important or he wouldn’t call on her cell phone. By now he knew she intensely disliked the gadget. She carried it with her only as a safety measure in case she had car trouble or the children needed to reach her.

  “Yes, darling. What is it?”

  “Hi. I hate to break our lunch date. Something’s come up, and I can’t make it.” He was breathless and talked fast. “I have to drive Cindy to the dentist, she broke a tooth this morning. The only opening he had is at one, and nobody else is free to take her. Please …”

  “I understand. We’ll have lunch another time. I’ll have a salad before I go to the clinic.”

  “Thanks for understanding, sweetie. I may not be at the clinic when you get here. Wanda knows you’re coming to see Marley. By the way, how’s the shopping going? Found anything nice?”

  “Nice, yes. Talk to you later.” She poked her finger at the “off” button, dropped the phone in the bag. Then she pulled on her cotton dress, trying to swallow the disappointment, trying to be adult about the missed lunch. She caught her image in the mirror. Her eyes were large, her face flushed.

  Nina paid, thanked the saleslady for her help and took a shortcut to her car in the parking lot. After Michael cancelled, she had planned on having a light lunch on her own, but wasn’t hungry. Instead, she bought a hot dog and a Diet Coke from the vendor in the food court.

  The flowers bordering the walkway had lost some of their freshness, and the day wasn’t so glorious. The heat was intense, her sandals stuck to the soft asphalt.

  With care, she placed the clothes bag in the trunk of the car.

  Before starting the engine, Nina sat in the driver’s seat, drank in thirsty gulps and ate half of the dog. She berated herself for letting anybody—anybody at all—influence her moods. Michael had broken their lunch date, and she felt frustrated. The problem about his change of focus resurfaced. Determined not to obsess about his behavior again, she knew nobody could upset her if she didn’t leave herself open to hurt. She could see the cancelled date as an incident, not a rejection of her. Because she loved Michael, she would accept him as he was.

  As she drove to the clinic heavy clouds obscured the sky. It was so dark she turned on the headlights. To better concentrate on her encounter with Marley, she switched off the radio.

  When Nina arrived at the clinic, the waiting room held only a few patients. Some were reading, others watched a quiz show on TV. It was pleasantly cool inside after the heat in the parking lot. Nina stood at the reception counter waiting for Wanda to finish talking on the phone.

  Wanda hung up and studied Nina’s face. “You look like you could use a tall cool drink. Is it hot out there?”

  “Muggy, and it feels like a storm; the clouds are dark and menacing.”

  “Gosh, I sure hope not. Imagine what a storm would do to the roses, only a day before the event.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Let’s hope the storm won’t come our way.”

  From the table next to the TV, Wanda handed her a tumbler of ice water. Nina sipped, sloshing the cold water around in her mouth, enjoying its freshness. Crunching on a piece of ice, she followed Wanda through the door to the inner hall.

  By the door to Michael’s office, Wanda halted. “Marley’s in there. He’s really bent out of shape. Hope you can straighten him out.” Then her choice of words struck her and she laughed, a sound like the tinkle of a bell, high and clear.

  Nina knocked and opened the door. At first glance the room seemed empty. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her and looked around. Then she saw Marley—in a corner by the window, legs pulled up to his chest, arms around them, forehead pressed against his knees.

  Collecting her thoughts, she stood a moment with her back against the door. How could she best approach him? Not wanting to alienate him, she wanted to draw him out while respecting his need of emotional space. He looked so vulnerable. She thought that nobody so young should know hurt.

  Setting her handbag on a chair, she crossed the room and sat on the floor at an angle to him. If he was aware of her presence he didn’t let on, but she knew hurt children were usually attentive to their surroundings. His position could be a show of deep distress or a cry for help; at this stage she didn’t know which.

  Nina sat quiet. Without touching him she spoke at length in a low distinct voice. “Marley. I’m Nina Brochard, Michael’s friend. We met a few days ago.”

  His only reaction was an audible intake of breath.

  “Michael asked me to visit with you. Do you want to talk to me?”

  His only acknowledgement was to grope with one hand in his lap for his knit cap. He planted it on his dreadlocks.

  “Apparently you’ve read a lot about Jamaica.” She waited a moment for a word or a sign from him. When he remained still she continued. “I’ve been to Jamaica, to Ocho Rios.”

  Pause.

  “It’s a wonderful country—the ocean and high mountains to climb.”

  Pause.

  “The people are very kind and friendly, always smiling.”

  Pause. She sipped her drink.

  “Bob Marley’s presence is felt all over; everyone plays his reggae music.”

  A longer pause.

  “Would you like to go there som
e day, Marley?”

  He covered his head with his hands. Then his head came up and he pulled the cap over his face. “You Mon’s woman. I remember.”

  “Yes I’m Michael’s woman. I’m glad you remember.”

  Slowly, he removed the cap from his face and stared at her with his dark eyes, a bottomless sadness in them.

  She caught her breath. “I can see you’re very sad. Your eyes are filled with tears.” She drew half-moons under her own eyes. “I can see them here.”

  He shook his head. “No. Marley big mon now. Mons don’t cry.”

  “Wrong, Marley. Grownup men cry. I think you’re afraid that you can’t stop if you give in and cry.” She had come this far sooner than she dared hope and didn’t want to risk losing him now. She waited.

  Slowly he nodded, a movement so subtle she almost missed it. “Uh-huh.”

  Again she waited, wanting to touch him, but didn’t for fear that contact would scare him. She had to be patient, take her cues from him.

  He remained still, hand on head, eyes on her face.

  “I’ve been sad, very sad,” she said in a low voice. “And I’ve cried. It’s so hard to cry alone, isn’t it? That’s when you feel really lonely.”

  A faint whisper. “Yeah.”

  Careful, careful. If he turned away from her now, locked himself away, he would suffer again. “Do you want me to help you cry? I will, but only if you let me.”

  When she thought she hadn’t been able to break down his defenses, when she thought he wasn’t ready to open the door to his prison, it happened—he held out his hand to her. She reached to take it, but instead of his hand she had the entire boy in her arms. He groaned a deep guttural sound of distress and pain, and threw himself at her.

  She enfolded him in her arms, holding him, rocking him slowly back and forth. With his face mashed against hers he cried, long soul-wrenching sobs, moaning and mumbling words she didn’t understand. He clung to her, writhed in her arms, clutching her shoulders. She pressed him to her, stroking his hair, his neck, caressing circles on his back. She crooned to him, whispering. “Let it out, Marley. Let the tears come. Cry all you want.”

  Later there would be time for talking. For now, the present moment was all that counted. She was there to receive his distress, knowing this was but a little crack in the armor, a beginning. But for Marley it was a big step.

  Like a tropical storm, Marley’s outburst was violent and short. His sobs subsided, turned to an occasional hiccup. He sniffled. Rubbing his face with both hands, sat up and took the tissues she handed him. He peered at her, shy and fearful.

  Glancing at her watch, Nina was astounded that she had spent a full hour with him. It didn’t seem nearly that long—more like a heartbeat.

  She patted his hand. “You did well, Marley. I’m proud of you. It takes courage to show your pain.”

  “Mon? What will Mon say?”

  “Michael would be proud of you, but he doesn’t have to know. It’s up to you to tell him. This is between you and me, if that’s what you want.”

  “You promise not to tell, M’am Nina?”

  She made her voice firm. “I promise.” She stood and took the wad of tissue from his hand and wiped his face where he’d missed some wetness. Straightening his dreadlocks the best she could, she placed the cap on his head. From the pitcher on Michael’s desk she poured a plastic cup of water for him and another for herself.

  Marley drank greedily and held out his cup. “More, please, M’am Nina.”

  “Call me Nina,” knowing he wouldn’t. “Michael thinks I could help you. If you want, we could meet once a week and talk about things. Would you like to give it a try? We could start next week.”

  “That be good, yes. Next week? What day?”

  She made a mental check of her agenda. “How about Tuesday, at three?”

  “Yes, good.” He glanced at her from under his brow. “Where?”

  “Here, Marley. At the clinic.”

  He nodded his agreement. Then he took a few steps closer to her and put the palm of his hand on her chest over her heart, the way he did the first time they met. Following his lead, she pressed her hand against his heart as well.

  He beamed a smile. The room grew brighter.

  Chapter 36

  With Marley following, Nina entered the reception. Wanda turned from the stack of files she was sorting. “There you are. You were gone so long I was going to come looking for you in a few minutes.”

  Nina nodded, smiling. “Yes, time just flew by.”

  Wanda glanced at Marley. “Hi, how you doin’?”

  He gave her one of his wide smiles. “Fine now. M’am Nina helps good.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Nina glanced at him, wanting to make sure he wasn’t planning to run away . not for now at least. “Are you going straight home?”

  “No, first to Blockbuster’s, then home.”

  Marley stood close to Nina, hand on her arm and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “On Tuesday, huh?”

  “Yes, Marley.”

  And he was gone.

  Wanda’s mouth was hanging open. “I can’t believe it. The transformation you brought about in one hour is remarkable. You’re a miracle worker.”

  Nina shook her head. “Nonsense. Some intuition and the luck to be there at the right time. There’s plenty of work ahead of us.” She delved in her handbag for the car keys, but found them in the pocket of her dress. “As you heard, I’ll be here next Tuesday to see Marley. Michael may need his office, but I’m sure we can find a pigeonhole somewhere that’s private. “Dropping the ball of tissue she still clutched in her fist in a waste basket, she headed for the door and waved. “Bye, Wanda.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Oh, of course—the Festival.”

  Opening the door, Nina was hit by the sweltering air. The sky was still overcast, but the threatening storm seemed to have moved on. In the car, she held the hot steering wheel with her fingertips, the seat burning through her clothes.

  Approaching her house, Nina saw Michael’s car parked in her driveway. He’d left ample space on the side so she could drive into the garage. She opened the connecting door to the den and called, “Hi, I’m home. Anybody here.”

  No answer.

  Then she saw him on the lanai in the shade of the overhanging roof, stretched out on one of the lounge chairs, eyes closed, asleep. This had been a busy day for him—the morning at the clinic, last minute details at the country club for the Festival, Cindy’s dentist appointment.

  Not wanting to wake him, Nina stole into the garage to get her dress. Like a young girl preparing for her first date, she smuggled it inside and hung it in the guestroom closet where Michael wouldn’t see it. For the second time she showered and put on a long T-shirt. In the kitchen she prepared a tray with a beer mug for Michael, and ice tea for herself. On the lanai he hadn’t changed position. She settled on the couch in the den to look at the paper, but got no further than checking the weather report for the next day—sunny, temperatures in the low nineties, gusty wind—when Michael leaned over her, sleep still in his eyes, hair tussled and damp from the heat; he looked lovable.

  He sat next to her and enfolded her in his arms, holding her close, planting kisses all over her face and throat. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and, finding her mouth, kissed her softly, then not so softly.

  And she clung to him, safe in his arms, happy he was there.

  “Nina, my Nina, I’m sorry I stood you up for lunch.”

  She held his face between her hands, gazing at him. “Oh Michael.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.”

  “I was a bit disappointed, but I’ll live. There’ll be other times.” She gazed into his eyes. “How wa
s your day? How are the roses?”

  He chuckled. “Questions, questions. Everything’s fine. The roses look great. I’m great.” He kissed her again. “Did you see Marley? Would he talk to you?”

  “Not in the beginning, he didn’t. Then we had a little breakthrough, a secret between Marley and me. Client-therapist privileged info. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything. If you want to know specifics, you have to ask Marley.”

  “I only want to know that he’s all right.” He cocked his head to the side and looked at her inquisitively. “Apparently so.”

  “You know he’s far from well. But right now he’s better.” She rubbed the tip of her nose against his.

  The ringing of the phone was loud. Usually it rang at inopportune times. Now she welcomed the interruption, glad to end this conversation. She felt ill at ease talking about clients in general. Marley in particular was a touchy subject because Michael was so close to the boy. If she cast Michael in the role of the father, she’d get the right perspective, keep the proper balance. As she answered the phone on the third ring, Michael settled on the love seat with the newspaper she’d been reading.

  “Hello,” she said into the handset, making herself comfortable in the couch corner.

  “Mami, how are you?”

  “Oh Danny, I’m so pleased to hear you. I’m fine. How’re you doing?” Glancing at Michael, she spoke in English for his benefit. Both Lillian and Danny were perfectly bilingual, she’d made sure of that from early on.

  They talked. Danny and Nina always communicated, not merely exchanging trivialities.

  And Danny dropped his little bomb. “I bought a motor bike.” “Oh.”

  “Is that all you can say, ‘Oh’?”

  “I’m waiting to hear more about it.”

  He talked about the advantages of a sports bike over a tourist model, horsepower and cylinders, max speed and other technicalities, most of the details over her head. He spoke fast, words tumbling out, repeating that the machine was a technical wonder, his voice slightly hoarse with excitement.