“What are you up to, Dad? Are you really planning to get her a dog?”
“I’m considering it,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. “Find me some matches, will you, son?”
Son? What’s going on here? I study him for a moment, can’t get an accurate reading on his scheming and so go to the kitchen to look for matches and an ashtray. As I pass the telephone I notice the answering machine light flashing. I hit the play button and then rummage through a drawer full of junk. A deep voice fills the room. “Hello. This is Michael Zabonosky from the Daily, just calling to confirm our interview scheduled for next Wednesday evening. We look forward to meeting all of you then.” There is an emphasis on “all of you.”
Feeling the blood drain from my head, I return to the living room, without matches. “You have no intention of getting her a dog.”
“Why do you say that?” Dad’s found his lighter while I was in the kitchen. He probably knew that he had it all along. He puts the flame to the tip of his cigarette.
“You just want her to think you are so she’ll tell the newspaper people that. You want to convince them that you’ve been a great daddy.”
He takes a long drag on the cigarette. “When did you become so cynical, Darcy?”
“You’re not going to get away with it, Dad. I won’t let you get her hopes up and then break her heart.”
“I’m gonna get her a dog.”
I just stare at him. He really must be feeling guilty about the other night.
“It will be your mother’s problem in no time.”
So we’re back to that. “Have you ever thought that our mother might not want Kat? She did try to kill her, in case you’ve forgotten, and I really don’t think the authorities are going to let her have Kat back.”
“In the eyes of the law, Darcy, your mother will have served her time, and she’s entitled to a fresh start.”
“But what if she doesn’t want Kat?” I’m having trouble keeping my voice steady.
“She does. She’s made it clear. She’s even taken American Sign Language instruction in prison. She’s fully prepared to resume her parental responsibilities.”
The smug expression on his face is too much.
“You’re going to regret this, Dad.” Furious, I turn to leave the room.
“Is that a threat, Darcy?” His tone has changed. The taunting bully is back.
“No, it’s not. It’s a statement.”
I FIND KAT in bed, the glare of the bare overhead bulb casting a harsh light through the room. She springs to a sitting position. “Well?”
“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Darcy,” she says, ticked off. “Do I get a dog or not?”
I sit on her bed and study her. Her anxious face turns my hardened heart to mush. “Yeah, he’s going to find you a dog, but…”
I don’t get a chance to finish the sentence. Her arms are around my neck and she is squeezing so hard I’m afraid I’m being strangled.
I peel her off. “He’s only doing it for show, Kat, to make everyone in town think he’s such a great daddy. I think he’s actually feeling guilty about being a lousy parent. But he intends for you to go live with our mom, and who knows if she’ll be willing to keep a dog.”
Kat studies me. “I don’t care why he’s doing it,” she signs. “I just want a dog. And if she wants me, she’ll have to take the dog too.” She folds her arms across her chest.
I don’t even want to think about this stuff. “Go to sleep, Kat. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I have to blink back the tears. Things are definitely not going to work out the way she thinks.
I turn, but before I can leave the room she calls my name.
“What?”
The joy has left her eyes, and now she looks concerned.
“Let me see your arm,” she signs.
There she goes again. That uncanny way of knowing, often before I do, when I have to use the knife.
“My arm is none of your business,” I sign back and leave the room. She doesn’t follow.
THE INTERVIEW WITH the two guys from the Daily goes pretty much the way Dad orchestrated it. Kat is still flying high in anticipation of a dog, so I’m sure she comes across as a happy, well-adjusted kid. I’m my usual insolent self, but they probably put that down to my age. Dad sits in his armchair with this aren’t-Ione-heck-of-a-wonderful-guy expression on his face, calling me “son” and telling tales of what a stupendous job he’s done of raising his kids, all on his own. Forgotten, it seems, is that fact that he can’t communicate with his daughter. Perhaps I should roll up my sleeve.
When they ask him what he’ll do when our mom gets out of jail and wants custody of us, he slumps down and pretends to struggle with the question.
“It’ll be really tough,” he says, finally, “but in all fairness, I believe I should allow Sherri her share of time with them. I don’t believe she’s a bad person. I think the attempted murder was a one-time act of desperation, possibly triggered by drugs, alcohol and depression.” Dad glances at the tape recorder sitting on the coffee table in front of him, assuring himself that all this B.S. is being recorded. I have to give the guy credit; I didn’t know he was such a good actor. He recites the memorized lines flawlessly.
“I understand from the authorities,” he continues, “that she’s received counseling for her addictions, and she’s even completed her high school diploma. That sounds to me like she’s a woman who’s no longer a threat to society or her children, and it’s only fair to give her a second chance.”
It’s enough to make you puke, but just when I’m feeling completely defeated, ready to admit that Dad has won this particular battle, Kat pulls a fast one on him.
The two news guys have shut off the recorder and are packing up their things. Kat is watching them intently. She turns to me and signs rapidly. “Ask them if they like dogs,” she says.
I don’t know what she’s up to, but I ask anyway.
The guy packing up the camera smiles and nods at Kat. I can see he thinks she’s adorable.
“Now ask him if he’d like to come and meet my dog when I get him.”
I can’t help but laugh at her cunning, but of course the news guy just thinks I’m laughing at how cute she is.
He falls right into her trap. “Tell her I’d love to,” he says after I extend the invitation. “And why don’t you ask her if she’d mind us doing a follow-up story about her and her dog. It would be interesting to see how they are getting on, and if the dog really can be trained to protect her during seizures.”
I don’t even have to translate. Kat gets the general gist just by reading his lips. She grins, triumphant. Now Dad has to get her a dog.
THE HADELINE IN the paper the following morning takes me by surprise once again. Sherri Murphy Gets Full Parole it says in mile-high letters on the front page. I didn’t realize it was going to happen so soon.
When I arrive at school I see a small throng of adults milling around the door. They’re carrying cameras, microphones and notepads.
“There he is!” a voice declares, and before I know it I’m surrounded. People are yelling questions into my face and cameras are flashing.
I shove my way through, planting my elbow into soft flesh whenever I can. I find Mr. Bryson trying to reach me from the other side. He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the school. The door is opened by someone watching from inside, and Mr. Bryson shoves me in before turning and facing the media people. I can hear him ordering them off the school grounds.
Ms. LaRose is right there, her arm wrapped protectively about my shoulder. There’s that scent again, that soft, comforting fragrance. I’d like to bury my face in her chest, inhale her perfume…
“I have to find out if Kat is okay!” I can’t believe I forgot about her, even momentarily. “I need to phone her school.”
She nods and steers me into the school office. I know the number and punch it in quickly, trying to igno
re the fact that my hand is shaking.
“Sunshine School for the Deaf.”
“This is Darcy Fraser,” I tell the female voice. “I’m wondering if my sister is okay. There’s people here with cameras and…”
“Oh, hi, Darcy,” she says, sighing loudly. “There was a small crowd of reporters here too, waiting for her bus, but we were able to get her safely into the school.”
That didn’t make me feel much better. “Is she okay? Did it scare her?”
“She’s okay.” There was a pause. “What shall we do about after school?”
She’s got me there. Usually we meet at the Kippensteins’.
“Should I call your father and have him pick her up?” she asks.
“I guess you could try. You’ll have to leave a message with his dispatcher.”
“What about you?”
Good question. “Tell him to pick me up too.”
“Okay, I’ll do that,” she says calmly. She’d make a good 9-1-1 operator. “And I’ll leave a message confirming it for you at your school. Okay?”
“Yeah.” The sickening truth is dawning on me. Dad’s gonna love this attention. He’ll be only too happy to pick us up today.
When I hang up the phone I realize Ms. LaRose is still standing there. We stare at each other. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly.
I long to say yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
“No. I’m fine.”
She nods, and we walk down to our classroom together.
DAD'S OUTSIDE, TALKING to the reporters, when school gets out. Kat has herself locked in the car. I grit my teeth and push my way past them. Kat lets me in and we wait for Dad, who is blathering away, totally enjoying himself.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She just nods and turns to look out the window.
I poke her arm to get her attention. “Do you know why they’re here?” I ask.
She nods again.
I study her serious face. There’s no sign of the coy little girl who charmed the newspaper reporters last night.
That mood pendulum, which had so briefly become unstuck, has now swung back to where it was sitting last week.
WHEN THE MEDIA get what they want or, more likely, realize what an ass Dad is, they begin to disperse, but not before pointing their cameras at the car, trying to take our picture through the glass. I cover my face with my hands. I don’t know what Kat does.
“Just drop us off at the Kippensteins’,” I tell Dad when he finally gets in the car.
“This was nothing,” he says, gesturing at the dispersing crowd and ignoring my request. He’s pumped, more excited than I’ve ever seen him. “You should have seen the crowd outside the prison today.”
“You saw it?”
“I saw it on the noon news.”
“You were watching TV at noon?”
“I stopped by Rusty’s for lunch.”
Rusty’s is a pub. I decide not to ask why he would go to a pub for lunch, but there has been something else I’ve wanted to ask. “Where’s she going to live?”
“Her parole officer has found an apartment for her.” He laughs. “I’m betting he didn’t tell the landlord who was moving in.”
“Will she be safe?” Not that I really care.
“These people are full of hot air. Of course she’ll be safe.”
I glance at Kat. She’s still staring out the window. “What makes you think Kat will be safe if she goes back to her?”
“No one has a problem with Kat.” Dad blasts his horn at someone making a left turn in front of him. “In fact,” he says, “Kat’s presence just might keep your mom safe.”
“Why wouldn’t Mom move to another town?”
He glances at me. “Good question, Darcy. And she might, depending on what you decide to do.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
“What have I got to do with it?”
“If you go live with her, she’ll be able to leave.”
“Huh?”
“I told her I didn’t think she should separate you and Kat. That you’re pretty close.”
“You’ve been talking to her?”
“We’ve had a couple of meetings.”
This really surprises me. “You didn’t think I’d like to know this?”
“Darcy, you’ve made it quite clear that your mother is not someone you want to talk about. Or live with.” Dad has pulled into the Kippensteins’ driveway.
“So you told her we’re pretty close and shouldn’t be separated?”
“That’s right.”
There’s something wrong with this picture. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but…”
“And if we’re both in the same town, you’ll be able to see your sister.”
“And if she moves away…”
“Then Kat might refuse to go.”
Now I get it. He’s not going to take a chance that he gets stuck with Kat one day longer than he has to.
I see that the Kippensteins’ front door is open and Sammy is standing there, waiting for us. Kat climbs out of the car and is greeted with a hug. I’m feeling like there must be something else I need to say to Dad, but my mind is blank. Things are happening way too fast.
MY DREAM IS interrupted by a cold hand on my shoulder. I don’t want to wake up. I’m in a safe, warm place that smells like roses…
“Darcy,” Kat says.
I force my eyes open and see her standing ghostlike beside my bed.
“Can I sleep with you?”
This is a first. In the past she just climbed in.
I pull back the blankets and move over. Way over. She climbs in but stays close to the edge. She turns so her back is to me. Even from a few inches away I can sense the tension in her body as she clings to the edge of the bed.
I remember how Kat used to press her cold little body up against mine, pop her thumb in her mouth and we’d fall asleep, like a couple of kittens snoozing in a wicker basket.
I roll over so my back is to her. I feel like a shit.
SHE'S GONE WHEN I wake up. I find her in the kitchen eating cereal. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” There are black smudges under her eyes.
I pour myself a bowl of cereal and join her at the table.
“I want to meet her,” she signs. It comes out of nowhere.
“Our mom?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you have much choice about that.”
“I know. I just want you to know I’m okay with it.”
“You’re not mad at her?”
She shakes her head, looking thoughtful. “I don’t remember anything. It’s different for you. You have bad memories.”
We go back to eating.
“I just want a mom.” She brushes a tear off her cheek.
My heart aches for her. “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” I sign. “She hasn’t been a model parent so far.”
Kat shrugs. “I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”
“For what?”
“For wanting to see her.”
“Oh, Kat.”
“I want to give her a chance.”
“Okay.”
“But I don’t want to let you down.”
“How would you be letting me down?”
“I know you hate her, so I feel like I’m supposed to hate her too.”
I really am a shit.
ON FRIDAY NIGHT we spot Eileen Gilbert’s car parked outside again. Kat immediately breaks into a sprint, covering the last half of the block in seconds. By the time I arrive in the living room, Kat is on the floor stroking Star, and Dad and Eileen are sitting at the table, reading over some official-looking documents.
“I get to keep her all weekend!” Kat signs to me.
“Yeah?” She should tell someone who cares.
Eileen comes back to the living room and greets me. “Your dad tells me that he’s
ready to give dog ownership a try,” she says. “Star is a well-mannered, gentle dog who responds to a lot of sign language already. She didn’t quite make it as a guide dog, but I think she’d be a really good pet for your sister. And it may turn out that she can protect Kat during a seizure.”
I nod, not knowing what to say.
“I’ll be back to pick her up on Sunday afternoon. We’ll talk about how the weekend went then.” She pats Star one last time and then quietly slips out the door.
Dad and I stand in the kitchen, looking down on Kat and Star. She looks up at us with tears in her eyes. “Thanks, Dad,” she says.
He glances quickly at me before turning back to her. He clears his throat. “You’re welcome,” he says.
“Let’s take her for a walk, Darcy,” Kat suggests with her hands.
“You go ahead. I’m feeling a little lazy right now.” That’s a lie. I am feeling something, but I’m not sure what it is.
“You sure?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
Kat puts Star on her leash, tucks a plastic bag in her pocket as Eileen instructed and heads out the door. I watch them from the living room window. Star trots along at Kat’s side, looking up at her now and then. Kat’s so happy she’s practically dancing down the sidewalk.
“She is kinda cute, isn’t she,” Dad says, coming up beside me.
I look at him. “Who? The dog?”
He laughs. “Yeah, she’s okay for a dog. But I meant Kat.”
I don’t say anything. It’s too bizarre. Dad is finally taking notice of his daughter just before he plans to pack her up and ship her off.
I FIND STAR lying right beside Kat’s bed when I go in to say good night. She scrambles up to greet me when I come into the room.
“Lie down,” I order.
Star looks hurt but pads back to her place beside Kat.
“Don’t you just love her?” Kat asks, unaware of how sharply I just spoke.
“Oh, yeah,” I answer. “I just love her to pieces.”
Kat knows from the expression on my face that I’m not serious. “You will, Darcy. Once you get used to her.”
Yeah right, I think. Like that’s going to happen.
KAT BURSTS INTO tears when she sees Eileen pulling up to our house on Sunday afternoon. She has spent every waking moment of the weekend with Star, and I swear she’s taught that dog more sign language than you’d think was possible.
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