The Door

by Lorilyn Roberts

  I wished someone had explained that to me.

  He stopped reading, looked up, and twitched his eyebrows. “Mr. and Mrs. Heller, the second test contradicts the first test. I couldn’t come to definite conclusions.”

  He slid the papers over to Mother. “On this test she was a genius, scoring 150 plus. On the second test, a day later, she was, how should I say it, she had an I.Q of less than 70—borderline retardation.”

  Dr. Silverstein leaned toward them. “How should I say this? Nothing on the second test validates the first test. She scored the exact opposite on all portions—except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She has a gift.”

  “What gift?” Remi asked. “The only talent I see is her tendency to get into trouble.”

  “Hardly,” Dr. Silverstein said. “There’s a pattern in these tests I can’t explain.”

  “What pattern?” Mother asked.

  “She has a gift. Maybe it’s art, writing, music, mathematics, language—I’m not sure, but in time, we’ll know. Gifted kids have special needs to reach their God-given potential.”

  “Gifted?” Mrs. Twiggs fumed. “She’s a juvenile delinquent going around hurting students with pins and turning in plagiarized work. She could have killed a student. Imagine the lawsuit we’d have on our hands.”

  The clock struck three. Soon school would let out. I had misjudged Dr. Silverstein. I should have taken the second test more seriously.

  Mrs. Twiggs looked like a teakettle ready to explode. “I don’t see how you came to that conclusion.”

  I imagined steam dripping from her nose.

  “I’m not finished.” Dr. Silverstein took another sip of his black coffee. “That is the I.Q. portion of the test.”

  “What are your recommendations?” The principal rubbed her forehead and opened her purse, pulling out Tylenol.

  “I’d recommend counselor intervention on a weekly basis to work through some deeper issues. I wouldn’t expel her from school.”

  Mother heaved a sigh.

  “No expulsion!” Mrs. Twiggs’s face turned multiple shades of raspberry. “She must be expelled. In fact, I demand her expulsion.”

  “I’m giving you my recommendation,” Dr. Silverstein said.

  Mrs. Twiggs’s mouth twitched. The Tylenol must not be working.

  She stood and paced around the room, muttering under her breath. Without recourse, defeated, she gave in reluctantly.

  “Very well, Doctor Silverstein. This isn’t what I wanted, but I’ll submit your recommendation to the school board. If anything happens that puts students at risk, though, you will be responsible. I completely disagree with you, I might add.”

  Her position and opinion of me couldn’t have been clearer.

  “One more chance for this troubled young lady,” she continued. “Though a three-day suspension is mandatory.”

  Even after the missed classes with the testing? I wondered.

  “But mark my word, if she does anything else to cause any disruption at this school, she’ll be expelled immediately. Do you understand, Mr. and Mrs. Heller?”

  “We understand, Mrs. Twiggs,” Remi said. “I promise you, she won’t do anything else. I’ll make sure of that.” He turned towards me but I refused to look at him.

  “Great. I’ll hold you to that. Good luck,” she added. “You’ll need it.”

  “I’d be willing to do some counseling with Shale in the meantime,” Dr. Silverstein offered.

  “We don’t need anything more from you,” Mrs. Twiggs said. “We’ll consider counseling later.”

  The meeting was over, though the tape recorder was still running. What kind of counseling, I wondered.

  Mrs. Twiggs thanked Dr. Silverstein glibly. She headed towards the door.

  Mother asked, “Can I have my pin back?”

  “Have your pin back? No, I need this as evidence for the future. You will be back,” Mrs. Twiggs stated firmly.

  Not if I could help it. Was it legal for her to keep the pin? Mother and Remi didn’t say anything to protest. I lagged behind as the rest of them walked outside. Quickly, I flipped the switch off on the tape recorder and grabbed the cassette. Who used these ancient things anyway? One less person.

  Chapter Four

  The Door

  I stacked my books on the dining room table—Latin, history, English, science, math—which one did I want to do first? I shrugged. Suspension for three days made me feel like a juvenile delinquent.

  What would I say when I faced Judd again? Rumors filtered through the school that I went into the boy’s restroom. Kids snickered and pointed at me in the school hallway before the suspension. No matter what others said, I wasn’t going to tell anyone why I attacked him. If I did, I might as well hang my dirty underwear on the school flagpole. Students’ imaginations would conjure up the worst—soon they would have me sleeping with him. Staring ahead blankly at the stack of books, I couldn’t focus long enough to pull one out and start.

  The doorbell rang. A man in a UPS uniform stood there holding a package. A brown truck sat parked out front idling. I opened the door to sign for it and a white note fell onto the doorstep. I picked it up and tucked it under my arm.

  As the UPS truck pulled away, I glanced at the return address on the package. My father would keep sending me Christmas presents after all. I closed the door and headed to the sofa. Then I read the return address on the note—Rachel Franco. Why would Rachel have slipped a note in the door? I set the package down to open hers first.

  “Dear Shale, I’m writing you because I couldn’t tell you in person. Mother and Father don’t want me to be friends with you anymore. They think you’re bad for me. I know you wouldn’t have done what you did to Judd without good reason. It doesn’t seem fair because we’ve been good friends for so long, but I must obey my parents. I can’t walk with you home from the bus or talk to you in class. You will always be my best friend. Signed, Rachel Franco. P.S. I’ll be praying for you as I always do. God has a purpose in this—I hope.”

  I read the letter three times, slowly, thinking about each sentence. Yes, she would always be my best friend, too. I knew she prayed because she was Jewish. However, what purpose could God have in this? If he did, he had a strange way of showing it.

  I threw the letter down and stared at the bare walls that still needed pictures. Bed sheets covered the windows. The flat-screen television belonged to Remi. I was forbidden to touch it—he was sure I would break it. Stashed against the wall were duplicate wedding gifts mother had yet to return.

  Rachel was my only friend. She would come over at least once a week—bring me a good book to read or I’d help her with a school assignment, but I was never allowed to visit her. I never knew why. Mother always gave some lame excuse. I’d never met her parents. Now I wouldn’t have even one friend at school. I wished I’d told Rachel the truth.

  The room was quiet except for the leaky commode upstairs Remi promised Mother he would fix. A scratching noise on the backdoor annoyed me. What could that be? My legs were too heavy to get up and check. I examined the UPS package from my father. The small box looked ordinary. I tore off the brown paper and found inside a white flimsy box—the kind of box that usually contains a breakable. I opened it carefully so as not to shake it.

  The box contained a light green, blue, and purple ceramic egg. The colors blended into one another, etched by a skilled artisan. I opened the egg and underneath a layer of fluffy cotton was a family of rabbits—a mother rabbit with three small babies.

  My heart sank. The bunnies were broken. Only one of the rabbits was whole, but even it had a chipped ear. A baby had a missing head and another had a broken leg. The mother rabbit was broken into three small pieces.

  I admired the pieces as I caressed them. What would the handicraftsman think if he knew his artwork was damaged in shipment? I held the three pieces of the mother rabbit together. Perhaps I could glue them. Broken or unbroken, they deserved a mag
ical story.

  A disturbing crash outside jarred me back to reality. I took the fragile pieces and placed them back in the egg, tucking the ceramic gift in my dress pocket. Then I headed into the dining room to peer out the window. The white dog I saw a few days earlier stood outside our apartment. Should I go out or would she run away? What would I do if she came up to me? I didn’t have any dog food.

  The dog’s brown eyes tugged at my heart. She wagged her tail once she saw me in the window. Hope was written on her face. She lifted her ears as if waiting to hear the door open. Did I have the heart to disappoint her?

  Nobody in the apartments could have dogs. They weren’t allowed—stupid apartment rules.

  Reluctantly I turned from the window and sat at the table again. Then I banged my fist and shoved the pencil off the table. It fell onto the floor and rolled away.

  “I hate you, God—you hear that? You send me broken toys and take away my best friend, give me parents that don’t understand me and teachers that hate me. That’s fine. I can take it. You hear me? Then you tease me with a dog I can’t have.” The bare walls were silent and I buried my face in my arms and sobbed.

  I couldn’t cry all afternoon. I went into the bathroom and grabbed some toilet paper to blow my nose. I didn’t feel like writing. The last time I wrote something, I was accused of plagiarism. Maybe I could do math. Whoever discovered Algebra must have been a fiend—how else could something so awful be invented?

  I reached into my backpack for my library book, The Diary of Anne Frank. I was about halfway through it and identified with Anne’s feelings of isolation. “Great,” I mumbled, when I found only textbooks. I’d left it at school, the one book I wanted to read.

  The dog barked again. I stood and pressed my nose against the windowpane. The sun had dropped behind the trees and she stood in the shadows wagging her tail. With her rear end stuck up and paws dug into the ground, she begged, “Come play with me.”

  I couldn’t resist. I went to the door and stepped outside in the cold January air—just in time to see her run towards the back of the apartments. “No, come back,” I pleaded.

  The dog skirted the apartment building, dodging two dirty bikes and a rickety wagon. Then she passed two utility sheds before she reached the boundary of the apartments and blended into the woods. I hesitated. Did I want to chase her into the thicket? The sun was low and twilight would soon bring nightfall.

  She reappeared briefly, standing expectantly, as if waiting for me to follow her. Then I lost her in the shadows and was ready to give up when I saw her once again. My weak ankle slowed me down. I stared at the naked trees—the one place around here I didn’t like in the winter. Then the dog was in front of me, not more than ten feet away.

  “Wait,” I called. “Please.” As I stepped forward, I tripped over a hole. I fell sideways into a pile of decaying leaves that covered the forest floor, twisting my ankle. Beneath the leaves, a rock protruded and my head smashed against the corner. Sprawled out on the cold ground, I was temporarily stunned. Did I break the egg? I grabbed the pocket where I had put it but it seemed to be okay.

  The dog stayed nearby, though at a safe distance. She reminded me once again of Much-Afraid from the donkey story. The resemblance was surreal. The dog crouched and edged towards me, her tail swishing the ground clean. She yelped as if she expected me to follow her.

  Lightly at first, vibrations thumped the ground underneath me, louder and louder, like drumbeats. An airy breeze, much too warm for January, carried panpipe notes from afar and rustled the dead leaves on the forest floor. As I watched, they turned from crusted yellows and reds to bright green.

  Much-Afraid, as I called her, whimpered. The dog raised her head and her eyes searched the red sky. She stood on her hind legs, pumped her front paws, and sniffed frantically. Naked tree branches rustled loudly and Christmas lights blazed through the barren canopy. Winter rolled back as a scroll and invigorated my dulled senses. Mesmerized, I entered a dreamy reality, as if I were in a theater waiting for the start of a long-anticipated movie.

  The scattered leaves lifted in a circular motion. Three white doves floated down and tiptoed around me. Forget-me-not flowers sprang up along with purple, red, gold, and green blossoms. A sweet healing balm saturated the air. The doves cooed as they gathered around my ankle, soothing my injury as a mother would caress a child. Then they kissed the wound on my head. Bands of light scattered in pulsating rings. After a few tantalizing moments, the birds flew away.

  Blue neon lights accented by flowers led to an open door surrounded by gleaming diamonds. Could I walk that far?

  “Shale, are you okay?” a female voice asked.

  Who called my name? I looked up, but the light from above was too bright, although the gentle warmth comforted me. I only saw flowers.

  I called out to the dog, “Much-Afraid?” I didn’t expect her to appear, but I had the feeling I wasn’t alone.

  I was captivated by the light but the cone was fading and soon the beam would vanish. Blue lights along the walkway grew brighter leading towards an open door.

  “Much-Afraid?” The silhouette of a dog covered the opening briefly. She sat waiting.

  “Much-Afraid.”

  “Follow me,” a female voice said.

  Was that Much-Afraid speaking to me? The effervescent light from the doorway bubbled in multi-colors. I stood and tested my ankle. As I tiptoed along the walkway, too afraid to believe I could run, light bubbles floated by as the diamond archway grew brighter.

  The dog became visible once more.

  “Shale,” the voice called again.

  “Wait! I want to go with you.” Without hesitating, I stepped through the open door. I reached for her as she slipped through my fingers. Then she was gone.

  Chapter Five

  The Garden

  The portal opened. A kaleidoscope of soft lights floated all around humming like musical snowflakes. Each was unique and lifted my spirits, making me long for something I couldn’t quite touch. An image came to me of a quiet, secluded park where one might go with a best friend. The experience lasted until the musical snowflakes turned to bubbles and then dissipated. A soft mist lifted revealing a display of endless flowers that covered everything.

  The view in the woods was a glimpse of the garden that now spread in all directions. Greens, blues, reds, purples, oranges, and colors I didn’t have a name for covered the ground. The place looked like Oz. Maybe the Munchkins were hiding. All I needed was Toto— or a charming prince to kiss me so I would turn into a princess. Then I’d live happily ever after—except I wasn’t ready to get married—or maybe it was a frog I was supposed to kiss.

  Where was I? The doorway was gone but I noted it was near an alcove of diamonds where colorful flowers covered the embankment. The rock I tripped over while chasing the dog glowed mysteriously. The sizzling letters carved into the surface spelled e-b-e-n-e-z-e-r.

  “Much-Afraid!” I called her several times. I heard a female voice, but was it the dog speaking to me?

  The grassy knoll was like a carpet in front of the hidden doorway. Surrounding the knoll were ribbons of more multi-colored, sun-loving plants—lavender catmint, zinnias and roses. Black-eyed susans basked in the sun on the adjacent rolling hillside.

  Along the pathway, crystal rocks, accented by clusters of smaller blooms, created a labyrinth of color and texture with alternating flowers and crystals. The large formations reflected the delicate blossoms where butterflies danced. The crystals seemed alive.

  I squatted down to examine one. A distorted image emerged on the face of the crystal. I waited to see if it would materialize completely. Winged creatures flying around in a dark cave came into focus. Then I saw the white dog and me bound with ropes sitting on a rock slate. “No!” I cried—and the image dissolved. I staggered back from the rock and shook my head to erase the disturbing vision. What had seemed so perfect until now wasn’t so. I would stay away from the crystals.

  I followed t
he trail lined with flowers. The double and triple blooming roses were striking—without the rust the flowers had in our yard. Other plants were more exotic looking. I couldn’t identify them.

  As I strolled along, rose heads followed me like gyroscopes. When I stopped moving, they stopped. I reached over to pick one of the red blooms. As I bent the stem, a snake slithered though my fingers. I screeched and yanked back my hand. When I examined my fingers, they looked normal—no bite wounds, redness, or indication that something had touched me, but I could still feel the soft skin of a snake. The stem was indented where I had bent it.

  Worry crept into my heart. How did I get here? Who or what brought me here and for what purpose? I nervously glanced around—was I being watched? Fear seized me.

  I headed back to the grassy knoll. Spooked, I didn’t want to follow the path anymore, but distant voices from farther along the trail now piqued my curiosity. The voices came and went, rising and falling, though not loudly enough for me to hear what they were saying. Child-like laughter followed a deep male voice. Though I worried about what I might find, I couldn’t resist checking them out.

  I walked several yards farther. Around a bend in the path, a long stairway was carved in the rocks. At the bottom was Fifi. My heart skipped a beat and a hot flash swept over me. Who was doing this? Why would I see that here?

  As I stepped forward, the stairway faded. A descending path lined with more flowers sprouted up on both sides. I rubbed my eyes that seemed to be playing tricks on me. Did I want to keep going or head back? The doorway had vanished. Panic gripped me—whether I stayed or went back. Paralysis of thought swept through my emotions.

  “Who’s there?” My voice seemed small and insignificant in the garden.

  The trail opened to a large grove of apple trees. Suddenly I spotted a large gray donkey and a small white rabbit lounging under a tree. The donkey was warming himself on a brown blanket, staring up at the sky with his legs crossed. The rabbit, wearing a blue bonnet with white flowers poking out the top, sat perched on a rock. They looked like friends on a leisurely picnic.