Child's Play
Page 7
“No, not really. But because people with leprosy look so bad and because healthy people shun them, today, when you call someone a “leper,” you’re saying he or she is to be kept apart from the rest of us. He or she is infectious in other ways. Understand?”
“A bad influence,” Elizabeth said. She had been called that enough times to understand Alex’s point.
“I’m not infectious,” Carl said, aiming his resentment at Elizabeth.
“No,” Alex said, “but because you’re a foster child, you’re treated that way sometimes, aren’t you?”
“Sure we are,” Richard said quickly. He didn’t want the conversation to be a runaway between Alex and Elizabeth. Carl still looked confused and angry.
“Don’t your teachers treat you differently? Don’t your fellow students do the same?”
Carl nodded slowly. All his life he had felt he was seen in a different light, but he had always attributed the cause to more obvious things, like his arrest record or his bad classroom behavior. Never before had he considered the idea that he was inherently different from the other kids because they lived with their real mothers and fathers. Many of them wanted the same things he did, and some of them did worse things to get into trouble.
“Big deal,” Carl said defiantly. It was his standard response to being put down.
“It is a big deal,” Elizabeth said. Her eyes sparkled with anger. Alex thought she was beautiful. To him, looking at her was like looking at a diamond in the rough. “But it’s true though,” she added, enjoying the shock value. “We are different.” She turned to Alex. “Or are you going to tell us that we’re just like everyone else?”
“No,” Alex said. The false smile faded from her face. “There’s no sense pretending you are. But that doesn’t mean you’re inferior.”
“What do you mean, we’re different?” Richard asked tilting his head in confusion.
“You’re wild things, untrained, unschooled, undeveloped, wasted. If you go on this way, you’ll amount to nothing, and they will be happy and satisfied.”
“Who?” Elizabeth said. Her tone of voice was less severe, because Alex was very unique. All her life, counselors, teachers, friends were telling her that she was not different. Although she went along with the slogans and the platitudes, she didn’t believe them. The truth was she did feel somehow apart from the others, but she was afraid to admit it, either to herself or anyone else. Here was Alex, putting the idea right up front. Alex was refreshingly honest. She was intrigued.
“They are people who think you are inferior, of course,” he said. “When you amount to nothing, you confirm what they believe and they continue to believe it. You gain nothing, even though you’re stupid enough to think you do.”
“How do we…not amount to nothing?” Richard asked.
“By defying their theories and expectations. You do well in school. You won’t look like physical wrecks. You won’t get into continuous hassles with the authorities. You’ll train; you’ll study, and you’ll develop.”
“Into what?” Elizabeth asked, still not sure how to read Alex Gold.
Alex considered her for a moment. The boys looked at her with the same intensity. She felt under glass, but rather than be annoyed about it as usual, she felt flattered. She had come into their precious little private meetings and quickly become the center of attraction. Even the boys had to acknowledge that. Maybe…maybe this was what Alex was trying to tell her.
“What do you want to be?” he asked.
“Rich and famous and beautiful.” She expected them all to laugh, or at least smile widely, but no one did. She might as well have said she wanted to be a clerk in a bank.
“Then that’s what you’ll be,” Alex said. He said it matter-of-factly as he would have said, “You’ll get a glass of milk when you want it.”
Her eyes locked with his. She had never really felt she was capable of becoming rich and famous and beautiful. She didn’t feel it now, but there was such a sense of determination in Alex Gold’s face that she felt guilty for not feeling it.
“Not that many people become…”
“If you accept failure, you’ll be a failure,” he said, anticipating her thought. “You began to accept failure when you let other people use your body for their own pleasure. You became a thing, an object with as much significance as an ice cream cone.”
Carl laughed, but Alex turned quickly and glared at him so hard that he stopped, wiped the smile from his face, and swallowed. When he looked to Richard, he saw Richard was just as ferocious-looking as Alex.
“Sorry,” he muttered. Elizabeth was impressed, not only with Alex’s power, but with his way of putting things so directly. He turned back to her.
“I say ‘ice cream cone’ just as an illustration of something that gives temporary pleasure and is gone. What you’ve done is diminish yourself.”
“It wasn’t all my fault,” she said. She wanted to be tougher, more aggressive and defiant, but tears formed in her eyes.
“I know, and that’s why I don’t put the blame on you. I put the blame on them. But they’ll suffer for it. In the end, they will be the ones to suffer,” he added, pronouncing each word distinctly. It had the full impact of an Old Testament prophecy.
“That’s right,” Richard said. “They will suffer.” He performed as a perfect chorus for Alex’s main ideas.
“Yes,” Carl added. “They will.” He was eager to be part of it now. Elizabeth turned toward both of them. They were looking at her, but they were looking with sympathy and understanding. In that moment she felt a bond between them and her, a warmth. It was as though they were all of the same tribe. What had been done to her had been done to them, one way or another.
When she looked back at Alex, she saw that he knew she understood. And for the first time since she had arrived, he really smiled at her. She wasn’t sure why at the time, but Alex’s approval was something she wanted very much. What she didn’t realize was just how much she would be willing to do to get it. That realization was to come in the days and weeks to follow.
4
One day Mrs. Hoffman called to tell Alex about a ten-year-old boy she was looking to place.
“He was brought up like an animal in a cage,” she said. “It just goes to show you how bad the system is that it took so long to discover exactly what was being done to this child.”
“An only child, you said?”
“Yes. The only contact he has had with other young people has occurred during the scattered time he spent in school. They lived like nomads; he’s been in and out of more than a dozen different public schools. Although he should be in the fifth grade, he reads on a first-grade level. And the pathetic thing is that his physical development has mirrored his retarded mental development. By the time the situation was discovered and properly diagnosed, much damage had already been done. He is as meek as a beaten-down puppy dog.”
“How tragic.”
“Yes. Anyway, what I think he needs more than anything right now is contact with other children, as much contact as possible, in school and out. That’s why I thought about you and Mrs. Gold. Along with the others…”
“Of course,” Alex said. “That’s most logical.”
“I realize we’ve already burdened you with three, but…”
“It’s not a burden, Mrs. Hoffman. My wife and I are getting more out of this than we are giving. Believe me.”
“It’s so wonderful to hear you say that, Mr. Gold. You don’t know how difficult this gets to be. People don’t want these children around them. They…”
“I know, Mrs. Hoffman. Would tomorrow be too early for us to meet the boy?”
“Tomorrow? Oh no, no. In the morning?”
“No, make it late in the afternoon,” he said thinking about the other children coming home from school. “I want us all to be there to meet him. I want him to see what he’s coming into and what it will be like.”
“What a wonderful idea, Mr. Gold. You do have a fe
el for these things. Perhaps I can talk you into taking a position in my department,” she said and laughed.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t put up with the frustrations you endure from day to day.”
“Isn’t that the truth, Mr. Gold. Thank you, again. I look forward to the meeting tomorrow. About four OK?”
“Fine,” he said.
Sharon didn’t act surprised when he told her. This thing had gone beyond anything she could have imagined. For all she knew, Alex planned to fill every room with a child. He was obsessed with it. When he described the new boy to her, his face was filled with such passion that she felt she dared not utter even a syllable of protest. He went from one emotion to another, first showing anger over what had been done to the child and then compassion for his suffering. He ended with his usual look of determination when he told her how they would turn it all around.
“They.” She had to laugh at that. As far as she was concerned, she had become invisible to the children. They moved in and out, around and through her. Most of the time they didn’t look at her, even though they had the courtesy to say “Good morning” every morning and “Hello” whenever they reappeared. Of course, they delivered Alex’s messages to her dutifully and politely, never adding a note of bitterness or disdain. They were aloof but respectful.
If they had been disrespectful, if they had abused her in any way, at least she could have reacted. It was getting to be that she hated them for being so good. This wasn’t anything she could tell Alex; she couldn’t even form the words for a complaint. She could only keep it all to herself. Anyway, she thought, he would always defend them, find some explanation or rationalization for anything they did.
The meals were becoming unbearable. They looked at her or spoke to her only if Alex did. Whenever she asked questions about their schoolwork or their activities, they answered, but the answers were short, deadly to the point, precluding any further discussion, and they would go on with another topic as quickly as they could, detouring the conversation around her.
She had to admit that she appreciated the way Alex had gotten them to develop responsibility around the house. They had cleaning up after dinner down to a science. Elizabeth scraped the dishes and placed them neatly into the dishwasher. The boys cleared the table and wiped it down. They took out the garbage and swept up. All that was left for her to do was put away the leftovers.
As soon as all that was completed, they were out of her sight for most of the remainder of the evening. They would go right to their homework or to a meeting with Alex. As the weather improved, he took them for long walks, either into town or over their property. Some townspeople who spoke to her regularly remarked about the “wonderful sight.”
“He looks like Socrates walking with his students,” Mr. Marre told her. He was the postmaster in Sandburg. “What do they talk about?” he asked. She was too embarrassed to say she didn’t really know; Alex never confided in her about it and she was not permitted to go along.
“Oh they talk about schoolwork and any problems they might have.”
“Your husband is quite a man, quite a man,” he said, and she knew that he must be reflecting the comments of other local inhabitants.
There wasn’t any way she could stand against all this.
“I’ll look to fixing up another room, then,” she said.
“Right next to the others,” he said.
“Maybe he could share the room with Carl.”
“No. They each must have privacy. I want each of them to have something they can call their own. People only take care of the things they cherish as part of them,” he added. She had to admit that sounded very true.
“I just thought maybe…since you said he was always by himself…”
“He needs to be by himself sometimes. Everyone needs that. He’ll have plenty of company and plenty of contact with the others, but I want him to become strong and not to be afraid of solitude.”
“Like me?” she said, but he either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her sarcasm.
Instead he went right to the children, called a meeting, and announced the imminent arrival of their new brother. As he had done with each of them, he explained and described as much of the boy’s background as he knew. They were impressed with the fact that he treated them as equals. There was no such thing as a boundary between what was “adult information” and “children’s information.”
“If you’re going to be able to understand him and help him as you are helping each other, you’re going to have to know about him,” he said. “I don’t know all the grisly details yet. We’ll learn much of it together, and we’ll take it from there.”
The next day when they came home after school, they marched up to their rooms and dutifully showered and changed their clothes. Sharon watched with utter fascination as they descended the stairway, each of them spic and span, wearing their best clothes, their hair neat, their shoes shined. Alex said nothing; it was as though he expected it. When Sharon gave it deeper thought, she realized that was true—nothing the children did surprised him. He even anticipated their mistakes.
“How beautiful you all look,” she said.
“Why are you wearing that dress?” Elizabeth asked her. “It’s such a drab dress.”
“This is?” She looked to Alex, dismayed. “Do you think it’s drab, Alex?”
“You could have worn something special. It’s a special day,” he said.
“Well…why didn’t you say something before?”
“Why do I have to tell you what to wear? Do I have to tell them?” he asked and looked at his foster children. The pride that shone in his face hurt her.
“I’ve had this dress for a long time,” she said, a little more defiantly, “and I’ve never thought of it as drab, nor has anyone who has seen me in it.”
“People don’t tell you the truth,” Elizabeth said. “They lie to protect your feelings.”
“Well, maybe you should do that, too,” Sharon snapped.
“It’s wrong to lie,” Richard said.
“Or to tell anyone to lie,” Carl added. Alex smiled.
“They’re right, you know.”
“I didn’t mean lie in the sense…I didn’t mean they should…be deceitful. I meant…”
“People who don’t tell you that dress is drab are being deceitful,” Elizabeth said.
Sharon just stood there with her mouth partly opened.
“Do you think I should change, Alex?”
“Do what you think you should,” he said. “We can wait a few more minutes.”
The children looked at her expectantly. She turned and ran up the stairs. She practically pulled the dress off herself out of anger and frustration. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought; I can’t believe I’m letting those children run my life. She put on a newer dress, one she would have thought to be too formal for what they were going out to do.
The children and Alex were waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, almost as though they hadn’t moved an inch since she went up. All of them looked up at her as she descended. It was incredible, but she felt she was being inspected and approved by them. It was as if Alex had transferred his power into them.
“That’s much better,” Elizabeth said. The boys nodded. Alex didn’t say anything; he just turned and opened the front door.
“I think I’m overdressed,” she said, but even to herself it came out like the words of a spiteful child. The kids didn’t respond. They turned quickly and filed out behind Alex, leaving her to close the door. They got into the backseat quickly and quietly and sat with looks of impatience while she petted and talked to the cats.
“C’mon, Sharon,” Alex called impatiently.
“I get more attention from the cats,” she said, getting into the front seat.
When they arrived at Mrs. Hoffman’s office, they found she had set it up to accommodate everyone: there were five chairs in front of the desk. The couch was reserved for the new boy, Donald Martin.
“I told Donald that you were all going to be here,” she said. “It had a very positive effect. You can imagine how depressed the child is.”
“I don’t know that much about him,” Sharon said tartly. Alex looked at her sternly, but she turned herself to Mrs. Hoffman.
“Oh…I would have thought…didn’t you discuss the child with your wife, Mr. Gold?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And with the children,” Sharon added.
“I see. Well, what more would you want me to tell you before we bring Donald in, Mrs. Gold?”
Her spurt of aggressiveness wearing off, Sharon looked nervously at Alex.
“I think Sharon meant that you really can’t get to know someone from a description and a resume; you have to have contact with him for a while.” Alex smiled ingratiatingly.
“Oh, was that it?”
“Yes,” Sharon said. Her quick retreat brought a smile to Mrs. Hoffman’s face. Sharon glanced at the children. They were sitting between her and Alex, with Richard the closest to him, followed by Elizabeth and then Carl. All three stared at her with Alex’s eyes.
“He’s really a precious little thing,” Mrs. Hoffman said. “A victim, if you know what I mean.” She winked at Sharon and Sharon smiled weakly. Mrs. Hoffman picked up her telephone and buzzed a secretary. “Please bring Donald in now,” she said. Everyone turned expectantly to the side door.
The ten-year-old was underdeveloped. His diminutive facial features, small hands, and thin arms made Sharon think of a doll she used to have. Whereas Carl was mouselike in his smallness, Donald was more like a bird. He seemed as fragile as a sparrow and looked about with a bird’s caution and fear. His glance went everywhere, his eyes moving back and forth with nervous energy. He tried to take in all his visual clues as quickly as he could, afraid of keeping his gaze on any of the other kids or on Alex and her too long. He looked down at the floor, up at Mrs. Hoffman, and then at them.