Beautiful Child

by Torey Hayden

  Beckie was the sort who could browse through garage sale offerings for hours, particularly for clothes. She bought half her wardrobe from garage sales and was always after me to do the same, showing me all the great stuff she’d acquired over the years, much of it for only a few dollars an item. Clothes—new or used—didn’t have quite the same appeal for me, so I usually trawled through the bric-a-brac. On this particular Saturday, we hit one garage sale with racks and racks of clothes, much to Beckie’s delight. I went off and checked out the kitchenware, then the boxes of books, then the secondhand toys, then the tools, then the hodgepodge stuff like old florists’ vases and empty Avon bottles. When I’d seen every conceivable thing, I went back to find Beckie still looking. I wandered off again.

  To while away the time, I struck up a conversation with a young girl who was obviously the owner of the toys being sold. She looked about ten. We talked about outgrowing Barbie dolls and how you might still like the dolls themselves, but you didn’t need that pink plastic camper anymore, and so, what did you do with it? She then told me she was trying to make ten dollars selling her stuff so that she could buy a jewelery-making kit. I told her I regretted not being able to buy anything, as I was looking mainly for boys’ toys.

  She was a natural little entrepreneur, this kid. When she found out that I hadn’t seen anything I liked, she wanted to know if I’d like to see some stuff they had kept back to put out the following day. It was just in through the back. Come on, she said. Maybe there was something I’d like.

  In among the things waiting to be put out was a cardboard box full of children’s videos. I leaned down and sorted through them. That’s when I saw it: She-Ra, Princess of Power. I picked the video up.

  “How much for this?” I asked her.

  “Fifty cents.”

  So it was a done deal.

  When I finished my lunch on Monday, there was still almost half an hour left before the bell rang for the start of the afternoon session. So I packed away my things and went down to the playground to find Venus.

  She was over by her wall. She wasn’t up on top of it. She wasn’t allowed up there during school hours, but she leaned against it. She spent most outdoor periods like that, leaning against the wall.

  I knew better than to try and call her over, so I crossed the playground to where she was. I knelt down in front of her. “Do you want to come inside? I have something special for you.”

  She regarded me.

  I smiled.

  No response.

  “Guess what it is? A She-Ra cartoon. It’s on video. I thought, if you wanted, we could go up to the classroom now and watch it on the VCR there.”

  No response.

  “Would you like to do that?”

  No response.

  It was unrealistic to expect an answer here in the noisy, exposed playground, so I simply rose back up to my feet and held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go watch it.”

  She remained immobile.

  I reach down and took her hand. “Come in with me.”

  She came willingly enough.

  We walked into the dim corridor and up, up, up the long staircase. I opened the door to the classroom, but since we were going to watch the video, I didn’t turn on the lights. Crossing the room to my desk, I took out the video. Removing the tape from the cover, I handed the cover to Venus.

  “See? Here it is. Have you seen any She-Ra cartoons before?”

  No response.

  I pulled out the stand that held the TV monitor and the VCR. “Let’s pull it over here so that we can sit on the cushions in the reading corner.” I shoved the stand ahead of me.

  Venus remained by the door, the video case in her hands. She looked at the picture on the front.

  “Come on,” I said. I returned to where she was standing and led her over to the reading corner. Turning on the VCR and monitor, I then sat down. I pulled Venus onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her.

  It was a rather thin plotline about a pirate who would work for anyone who paid him until he met Adora, who worked for the resistance movement on the planet Etheria. That’s when he realized he really wanted to be a good pirate and work to free Etheria from the evil Horde too. The crowning moment came when Adora transformed herself into She-Ra accompanied by a very catchy tune and a cascade of glittery light. I could feel Venus’s little body tensing as she watched the transformation. Her fingers gripped the cloth of my jeans and she sat forward, enthralled.

  There was a second cartoon on the tape, but we didn’t have time to watch it. Only about seven minutes remained before the afternoon session began, so I rose up and turned the VCR off.

  “That was good, wasn’t it? Did you like that?” I asked.

  Very cautiously, Venus nodded.

  “Here,” I said and handed her the yardstick. “Shall we practice turning into She-Ra? You turn around and do the sword thing. I’ll sing that good tune, okay? I’ll sing the ‘She-Ra! She-Ra!’ part.”

  Without any real hesitation, Venus held the yardstick aloft and started to turn around. I did the musical accompaniment.

  “Yes, that’s good. But you forgot something. You forgot to say, ‘For the honor of Grayskull!’ It wouldn’t work without that, I think. Here, try it again. I’ll do the ‘She-Ra! She-Ra!’”

  Venus held the yardstick aloft again and turned slowly around. I saw her open her mouth but I couldn’t hear anything.

  “Here, try again. I think it needs to be louder. Like this: ‘For the honor of Grayskull!’” I shouted.

  Venus’s eyes went wide.

  “Can you say that really loud?” I asked. “Let’s hear you try.”

  “For the honor of Grayskull,” she mouthed.

  “Hey, yeah! Almost got it. Can you try it just a little bit louder?”

  “For the honor of Grayskull,” she whispered.

  “Almost there. Louder?”

  “For the honor of Grayskull,” she said, again in a whisper.

  “Louder.”

  “For the honor of Grayskull,” she said and it was almost a normal voice.

  “Just about there. A little louder.”

  “For the honor of Grayskull,” she said and it was at a normal level.

  “Great! You are so good! You can do it, can’t you? Now, let’s get all the action too. Here. Hold up the sword. Spin around. And don’t forget the words. Let’s see you transform into the Princess of Power!”

  Venus held up the yardstick and turned around. I sang, “She-Ra! She-Ra!”

  Venus ventured the yardstick a little higher. There was a pause … the pause started to draw out … it threatened to become a silence. Then suddenly, “For the power of Grayskull!” she said in a clear voice.

  “Wow! Wowie!” I clapped my hands to my cheeks. “And there you are! The Princess of Power! Right in front of me!” I reached down and grabbed her to me, hugging her in against my body.

  Venus giggled happily.

  The two of us spent the next few days watching the video during the lunch hour. Once Venus knew what we were doing to do, she came willingly. She still would not risk declaring her allegiance openly by crossing the playground to me, but instead, she started lingering by the door, waiting for me. On the third day I saw a smile touch her lips when she glimpsed me through the glass of the door.

  I looked forward to our lunchtime meetings almost as much as she did, I think. Sensing we were on the cusp of a breakthrough, I filled much of my spare time with thoughts of how to get the next response. How much could I ask of her? How much would she do?

  I also spent much time pondering what was behind all her extremely unresponsive behavior, because even now, even after all these months of being up close with it, I found it unusual. She was so persistently unresponsive, even when it was apparent that she could, indeed, talk.

  I still had never heard spontaneous speech out of her. Venus would now very occasionally talk, after a fashion, when we were alone together. Or rather, she would either grunt out “yes
” or “no” or she would repeat something I told her to say. This was not enough speech to clarify in my mind the degree to which she could speak normally. There was still the specter of retardation haunting our activities. Venus was so unresponsive it had been impossible to administer any kind of assessment test, such as the WISC IQ test. Consequently, we didn’t know. It was possible she did not speak because she simply did not have enough intelligence to do so. Or maybe she had brain damage or aphasia or the countless other things that might lead me to a dead end.

  Bob rather sardonically pointed this out to me one lunch hour, as I was finishing up my sandwich in preparation to go down and watch the video with Venus.

  “You really are a most amazing person, you know that, don’t you?” he remarked as I packed up my things.

  I looked up questioningly.

  “The way you get by on so little reward.” He tipped his head, as if gesturing about someone in the room. “I mean with Venus.”

  “She’s rewarding,” I answered, perhaps a little defensively.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Come on, Tor,” he said in disbelief.

  I looked over at him.

  “You don’t have to lie to me. I came up through all the liberal idealism too. We’ve both got the swinging sixties in our blood. Love, not war. All that crap. I’ve served my time worshipping at that altar. But we’re also both old enough now to know when the odds aren’t in our favor. And they sure aren’t with this one.”

  This remark irritated me. “So what are you saying? That I shouldn’t be doing this?”

  “No. I’m just saying you’re putting a lot of effort into what is likely to be very little return.”

  “I don’t think that’s a value judgment I should be making, Bob.”

  “Perhaps there’s another way to put it. One’s got to pick one’s battles, Torey,” he said. “When I was saying that about the swinging sixties, I was meaning we were both idealistic back then. When you and I started working together, we thought we could save the world. But the truth is, we can’t. And you know that. I know you do. I know you’re not half so idealistic as you come across.”

  “I’m realistic,” I said, “more than idealistic.”

  “Which is what I’m saying. Realistically, you’ll never accomplish much in this case. And I see you spreading yourself thin. I know you’re taking personal time to work with her.”

  “Then get me another aide. Get me enough help in my classroom so that I can adequately attend to all the children I have, because I can’t do it now. I can’t work with this girl during class time, not the way she needs to be worked with, because what would I do with the others?”

  “No, what I’m saying,” said Bob with a note of exasperation in his voice, “is that—”

  “This one isn’t worth saving,” I said.

  “No. Let me finish. What I’m saying is that I don’t want to see you overextend yourself. I can’t get you another aide. I know as well as you do that you should have one, but tell that to John Q. Public at the next mill levy, because the money just isn’t there. In the meantime, this is all we can do. And yes, sadly, it means we’ve got to pick our battles.”

  “I don’t work that way,” I said and picked up my stuff and left.

  The conversation with Bob left me disgruntled. I was experienced enough and realistic enough to know that, yes, sadly, one does have to make difficult choices. I had no delusions about being able to “save” every kid I encountered. There were not the resources. There wasn’t the time. And in some instances, I simply wasn’t the right person. But I resented very much the implication that Venus should be considered expendable on the basis of an IQ people were only guessing at or her potential for “return” on time invested, which to me was as discriminatory as excluding her based on socioeconomic level or race. I simply did not think this was a judgment I should be making. If Venus was responding, then that was sufficient reason to keep working with her.

  And she was responding. In the privacy of the unlit classroom, in the shadows of a cartoon princess, we slowly began to build up a relationship.

  “Here. Do you want to put the video in?” I asked one afternoon.

  Venus stood, her eyes growing wide.

  “You don’t know how? Come here. I’ll show you.”

  Hesitantly, she came up to the machine.

  “Here. Take the tape. Then you push it in here. There. Like that.” I demonstrated. Then I popped the videotape back out. “Now, here. You try it.” I put the tape in her hand.

  Venus looked down at the videotape with an amazed expression, as if it were a most unusual thing.

  “Lift it up here.”

  She looked up.

  “Lift it up. Here.” I put a hand under her elbow to make her raise her arm. “Now, put it into the slot.”

  She didn’t move.

  I put my hand over hers and moved it toward the machine. “There. Push it in.” I guided her hand with the tape until the tape went into the slot. “Good! That’s right. Now, you try it.” I popped the videotape out again. I gave it back to her.

  Venus hesitated a very, very long moment. Then slowly she raised her hand and gently put the tape against the VCR slot.

  “Okay, good. Now push it in.”

  She wasn’t using enough pressure, so the little flap on the slot wouldn’t open.

  “Push a bit harder. You won’t break it.”

  Venus pressed it a little more against the flap, but it still wouldn’t open.

  “Harder. Keep trying. You’re almost there.”

  Venus kept the tape pressed against the flap. There came another one of these long, long moments, so long, in fact, that I thought we weren’t going to manage this. But I just waited. And smiled.

  She hesitated. Then, at last, she gave it a little push and in it went. The machine purred to life and the cartoon flickered up onto the monitor as the tape started to move.

  “Wow! You did it! You did that all by yourself, didn’t you!” I cried and I grabbed her up in a big hug. “Wow! Princess of Power!”

  Venus smiled. Indeed, she did more than smile. Her face broke into a wide grin, showing two missing top teeth.

  We both laughed.

  Chapter

  23

  Despite my visit to Venus’s home and the talk with her mother and Danny, Venus still did not attend school regularly. I found this frustrating in the extreme. We would have two or three good days together and then Venus would be gone. It didn’t matter how well we had been doing when she left, inevitably there would be a small slip back, even if she was gone only a day. If I had her crossing the room, but she was out the next day, then the first day back was lost trying to get her to cross the room again. If I had her putting the tape in the VCR, but she was out the next day, then the first day back was lost trying to get her to put the tape in the VCR again. It never failed.

  “Something has got to be done about this,” I said to Bob.

  “I know,” Bob replied, running a hand down across his face in a gesture of frustration.

  And Bob did know that. Indeed, Bob did try. He sent the district truant officer to the home to talk to the parents about their responsibility in getting Venus to school. He notified Social Services for the umpteenth millionth time. He even brought in the police at one point and a female officer was dispatched to the home. Despite all this effort, however, there continually seemed to be crossed lines of communication. The police officer went out to the home. We were informed of that. What we weren’t informed of was that she did not see Venus. The truant officer went out to the home. We were informed of that. What we weren’t informed of was the fact that he found no one there when he arrived. Social Services went out to the home. We were informed of that. What we weren’t informed of was the fact that this was this particular social worker’s last day and she didn’t fill out all the appropriate reports before leaving her job and moving to another part of the country. And on and on. So, while the right moves were being made, it was ne
ver communicated that they weren’t being fully executed. Bureaucracy tripped over itself. And in the end I was none the wiser for why we could not keep Venus in school.

  She-Ra cartoons had long since stopped being shown on television, but I was determined to find more videos; so I spent several Saturday mornings with Beckie “garagesaling,” as she liked to call it. Doing this, I managed to acquire half a dozen more She-Ra videos. In addition, I found two or three She-Ra picture books and about ten comics.

  Venus and I made a routine of watching the cartoons together during the lunch hour. Venus would now wait by the door onto the playground for me to finish my lunch and come get her. Then she’d follow me upstairs without being directed, help me push the monitor across the room, put the tape into the VCR of her own accord before finally joining me on the pillows in the reading corner. She liked sitting on my lap and often wrapped my arms tight around herself, if I didn’t do it quickly enough myself.

  During the afternoon recess, we started role-playing. Venus was always She-Ra, of course. Using the yardstick, she transformed herself into the Princess of Power half a dozen times during the twenty minutes. We then acted out small sections of whatever cartoon we had watched at lunchtime or perhaps a scene from one of the comics. These were usually very, very simple scenes. Her favorite was for me to pretend to be the evil character Catra and sneak up on her from the other side of the low bookshelf.

  “Here I come! I’m going to destroy that She-Ra. Meeee-ow. Then Etheria will belong to meeeee,” I’d say, pretending to creep along in a very evil way.

  Venus found this delicious fun. She would swing the yardstick and laugh and squeal. After the first few times, she managed to work up the courage to come after me. She wasn’t able to let her guard down enough to actually run, but she managed to speed around the classroom at a fast walk, trying to tap me with the yardstick.

  It was low-level stuff, the sort of games you might play with a three- or four-year-old, and it evoked the same giddy laughter from her. I didn’t try to do more. I didn’t push for speech. I didn’t endeavor to make it more age appropriate. I didn’t try to make it educational. All I wanted was to engage Venus, to help her realize this was a good place to be, a fun place, a safe place.