Chase Banter [02] Marching to a Different Accordion (4 page)

“Hello, my little furry ones,” Gitana said, as she patted the dogs’ heads and gave them dried duck treats that were supposed to be healthier for them. Chase found herself sniffing the treats and thinking about duck with orange sauce.

Bud held up her cube and crowed, “hctaw, hctaw!”

“Where’d you get that?” Gitana said.

“Addison gave it to her,” Chase said. “You know what, maybe we should put it away and Mommy can tell us about her day.” She snatched the Rubik’s Cube and stuffed it in the first place that came to mind, which was the freezer.

Bud stared in horror and then screamed bloody murder. The dogs leapt up and Gitana calmly suggested she give it back.

“We shouldn’t give in to her. It’s bad discipline,” Chase said, stirring the baked beans and trying desperately to ignore Bud’s wailing.

Bud stopped wailing long enough to say, “Feiht!”

“I am not. You’ve played with it enough.”

“What did she say?” Gitana asked, stroking Bud’s unruly curls. She’d stopped crying and was now glaring at Chase.

“She is accusing me of appropriating her property.”

“You did. Give it back to her.”

“All right. We’ll compromise. You can have it until dinner. Deal?” Chase said. She stuck out her hand.

Bud glared at her but shook on it. Chase gave it back.

“How was your day?” Chase inquired as she chopped up onions and pickles. If she put enough stuff on the poser hot dogs they might taste better. She watched Bud out of the corner of her eye while Gitana pulled a Dasani from the fridge and sat down next to their daughter. Bud seemed oblivious to everything and now distrustful of handing the cube over to anyone over the age of thirty. She quietly manipulated the cube herself. Gitana didn’t seem to notice her nimble little fingers putting it right.

“Not bad. We’re getting the newsletter for our customer base ready. That really was a brilliant idea on Donna’s part. I think it will get the orchid lovers all jazzed for spring.” She glanced over at Bud.

“Because the orchids start to bloom soon and that’s the best time to get them, right?” Chase said, in an effort to distract her.

“Uh, yes. Does she know what she’s doing?” Gitana said, pointing at Bud.

Chase cut open the buns and put them on plates. “Oh, she’s just playing around with it.” She didn’t meet Gitana’s gaze.

“I don’t think so.” Gitana held out her hand. “Can I mess it up for you?”

Bud looked suspicious but handed it over. Gitana turned away from Bud and messed up the cube. Chase wondered how she knew to do that as if she intuited that a four-year-old could follow her moves and mimic the return sequence. She handed it back.

Chase sighed heavily as Bud’s fingers brought the cube right in record time. She held it up in triumph. Gitana groaned and put her forehead down on the bar. “What are we going to do with a genius child?”

“She’s not a genius. She’s just light on her feet and a quick learner,” Chase said, wishing she could snatch the cube from Bud.

Gitana sat up. “When are you going to stop living in denial?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re going to have trouble getting her into the Academy because she’s such a whiz at linguistics she created her own language, complete with grammatical rules and semantics.”

“She hasn’t, has she?” Gitana looked mortified.

Chase smiled. Now that they’d stopped living in denial they could discuss it. “No. At least I don’t think so. I just want her to have a normal childhood. It’s not her fault that some freaky dude with a skyrocketing IQ was the sperm donor.”

“I know.” Gitana held out her hand and Chase took it.

“We can do it. We always do,” Chase said, more to herself than Gitana.

“Maybe Donna can do some reconnoitering and we can bribe our way into the academy,” Gitana suggested as she absently took the cube Bud offered. She messed it up.

“I thought you didn’t approve of bribery,” Chase said.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Chase smiled.

Mend your speech a little, Lest it may mar your fortunes.—Shakespeare, King Lear

Chase, Gitana and Bud sat in the waiting room of Dr. Evangelina Aragon, the illustrious speech therapist that Dr. Garcia had recommended after he’d confirmed that Bud was still definitely odd. Upon leaving Chase had muttered, “Well, that was a complete waste of a bobblehead.” But they’d gotten the referral they’d needed.

Bud was leafing through a magazine called
The Scientific Mind
. Her eyes appeared to be scanning the lines and it suddenly occurred to Chase that she might actually be reading. She felt conflicted—on one hand that was amazing, on the other it was terrifying.

“I’ll be right back, I have to go to the bathroom,” Gitana said. “How about you?” she asked Bud who shook her head no.

Ever since the pregnancy Gitana’s bladder had shrunk to what she was convinced was the size of a thimble. She kept saying she was going to have it looked at but never got around to it. What she didn’t know was that Chase had had Donna make an appointment, knowing that when the receptionist called to remind her of the appointment Gitana would go because she thought it a form of social injustice to waste other people’s time. Chase sat smugly recalling this.

When Gitana had gone, Bud said, “I can talk right.” She didn’t look up from the magazine.

Chase was astonished. “What did you just say?”

Bud looked up nonchalantly, “Gnihton.”

“You did too.”

“Evorp ti.” Bud went back to her magazine.

Chase looked around. The waiting room was empty. Should she tell Gitana? Had she imagined it? Oh, this was horrid. She stuck her forefinger in her mouth, making for the cuticle, but Bud slapped her arm. Chase put her hand in her lap.

“If I keep my trap shut, will you talk right one day?” Chase asked.

“Sey.”

“All right then,” Chase said. She breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t imagined it after all.

As Gitana returned, the receptionist called their names. “Perfect timing,” Chase said. She felt so good she almost skipped into the office. Gitana looked at her queerly.

Dr. Aragon sat in a wingback chair of soft brown leather. She got up and shook their hands. “Please take a seat. Bud, you sit here next to me,” she instructed in a soft melodious voice, the kind of voice Chase thought made you feel comfortable, like instead of dissecting your child’s linguistic skills she was going to read you a story with a guaranteed happy ending.

Bud looked at her suspiciously but obeyed. Gitana and Chase sat in the other two identical brown leather wingback chairs. The office was definitely brown, right down to the mocha-colored walls, and once again, as she had the first time she’d been in Dr. Robicheck’s office, Chase felt like she was sitting inside a walnut. Dr. Aragon’s office was more study than speech therapist’s office, which did serve to waylay some of Chase’s fears.

“So Bud, why don’t we have a little chat?” Dr. Aragon said.

Bud sat stoically quiet. “Oh, I see. But you do talk?” This was more ascertainment than question. “Maybe talking makes you nervous?” This was more taunt than question. Chase felt certain Bud would break. She did have a bit of a temper. But Bud sat quiet.

Gitana intervened. “Come on, sweetie, the doctor can’t help you if she doesn’t know what’s wrong. Just say a few words. Why don’t you tell her about Paddington?”

Chase watched as Bud’s face got red. This was insulting. Maybe this would be just the thing to break her. Maybe now she’d tell them all to piss off and that she could talk just fine and maybe she’d even use a big word. That would be the best, Chase thought. She’d often dreamed of the moment when Bud would burst forth with a Faulknerian vocabulary. It might have occurred except that Gitana broke the spell.

“I thought this might happen, so I brought this,” Gitana said, pulling out a small tape player like the kind hotshot business guys used to dictate memos.

Chase and Bud stared at each other in mutual outrage. “Did you inform her that she was being taped?” Chase said, her civil libertarian ideals raised to their full ire.

“Chase, we’re trying to figure out what’s wrong,” Gitana said.

“I know, but it’s illegal to record someone without their knowledge and consent,” Chase replied.

Dr. Aragon interjected. “That will be very useful.” She put her hand out for the tape recorder but as it was about to change hands, Bud leapt out of the chair and snatched it. She ran to the open window and pitched it outside.

“Bud!” Gitana said, completely mortified.

And then the tirade began, Bud started garbling so fast that even Chase couldn’t reconstruct what she’d said, although she did catch the occasional swear word. Bud resembled a tiny and very pissed off Napoleon Bonaparte.

Gitana smiled and then laughed. “I thought that might work. I did not, however, think you’d throw it out the window. What if you hit someone below?”

Bud’s eyes got big. She stopped her tirade and went to peer out the window. She visibly sighed and then turned on Chase, “Uoy did siht.”

“No, I didn’t. She did,” Chase said, indignantly pointing at Gitana.

“Well, something had to be done. We can’t go on with only you understanding what she says,” Gitana said.

“On driht nosrep!” Bud screeched.

“She doesn’t like when you use the third person,” Chase said.

Dr. Aragon, whom they had completely forgotten about as they discussed family politics said, “Why you ornery little elitist. I know what you’re up to.” She gazed pointedly at Bud, who shrank back a little. She inched toward Chase. “And you two need to cut the cord,” she said, indicating Chase and Bud. “That’s part of the reason she talks like this.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Chase said, scooping Bud up and putting her on her lap. They both looked anxiously at Dr. Aragon.

“You know what I mean. You’re the only one who understands her, up until now, and that’s how come you two are so close, because you have a secret language, and whether either of you are willing to admit it, you both like it.”

“I think you’re right,” Gitana said, agreeing with the doctor in such a way that Chase knew they were doomed. “But what is Bud up to?”

“It’s Pig Latin,” Dr. Aragon informed her.

Gitana looked puzzled so the doctor explained, “It’s English backwards, which is really an accomplishment for a four-year-old because it means that she has to know what the word is as well as know how to essentially spell it in order to reverse it. I’ll give you a demonstration.” She wrote the phrase “third person” on a piece of paper in Pig Latin and underneath wrote it the correct way.

“Oh, I get it,” Gitana said. She eyed Bud and Chase suspiciously. “Did you teach her how to do that?”

“Of course not!” Chase said petulantly.

“Then how do you know what she says?” Gitana accused.

“I don’t know,” Chase said, not meeting her gaze. “I just do.”

“Are you dyslexic? Or ambidextrous?” Dr. Aragon asked.

“Well…” Chase countered.

“When you chew your cuticles on your right hand and have to bandage your right-hand fingers I see you use your left hand quite adroitly, and then there’s that right-hand turn in traffic that you confuse with the other right, meaning left,” Gitana said.

“Ah ha!” Dr. Aragon said, like she’d caught Chase with her hand in the till extracting twenty-dollar bills. “It’s spatial dyslexia.”

“Thanks for outing me,” Chase grumbled at Gitana.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Dr. Aragon said. “Except you have to go around the block more than the rest of us.”

“Nac ew og tey?” Bud said.

“I hope so,” Chase said.

“In a minute,” Gitana replied, not realizing that she’d understood what Bud had said. “Does that mean Bud is dyslexic?”

“Not necessarily. We won’t know, of course, until she starts reading, but most likely she does it to amuse herself,” Dr. Aragon said, contemplating Bud, who scowled at her. “She’ll talk when she’s ready. I’d wager she’s ashamed of her limited vocabulary and won’t talk until she’s amassed one large enough to astound people, her parents included. It’s pride more than anything else.”

“Ssip ffo,” Bud screeched and hopped off Chase’s lap like a snake had bitten her behind.

“Bud! You apologize,” Chase said.

Bud scowled at the whole room. It appeared she thought them enemies and Chase hoped she wouldn’t make a run for the window to escape her captors.

“It’s fine. I insulted her and that’s good. It means it’s true. Give her a little time and she’ll do it when she feels it’s right,” Dr. Aragon said. “Here, this is an armistice gift,” and she pulled out a small pocket Webster’s dictionary from her desk drawer. She handed it to Bud. “For your vocabulary lessons.”

Bud inched toward her and then slowly put out her hand.

“Say thank you,” Gitana said.

“Knaht uoy,” Bud said grudgingly. She gently put the small book in her jacket pocket and then kept her hand on it as if she were afraid that like a gangly kitten it might jump out.

“Keep me posted and we’ll meet again in a month,” Dr. Aragon said. She leaned down so she could look straight into Bud’s eyes. “Study hard.”

Once outside, Bud made for the bushes where she’d thrown the tape recorder.

“It’s okay, Bud. We don’t need it,” Gitana said nervously.

“But it’s littering and we don’t litter, do we, Bud?” Chase said, completely ignoring Gitana’s vigorously shaking head.

Bud emerged triumphantly holding the tape player, which appeared to have suffered no real damage. She smiled at Gitana, who looked mortified. Bud opened the tape player. There were no insides, let alone a tape. Bud and Chase both gaped at her. “You lied to us.”

“I’m sorry, but I had to do something. Remember, desperate times call for desperate measures. I saved Paddington; that’s got to count for something,” Gitana said, backpedaling as fast as she could.

Chase looked at Bud, who stared up at her, apparently looking for a clue as to the next course of action. “Well, she did save the fish. Now, what we can learn from this is that sometimes people behave like politicians who distort the truth for what they feel is the good of the people and sometimes it works and other times you end up in a posh prison. So we’re going to let her off with a light sentence like you get to stay up later on a night of your choosing and watch anything on television you want excepting violence, sex, autopsies and animal cruelty.”

Bud rolled her eyes. “Bunk.”

Gitana glanced over at Chase to see if that was a real word. Chase, not wanting to attract attention, nodded slightly. Chase knew that when Bud was in bed they’d dance around in circles in utter glee. It was starting. At the stoplight before they entered the freeway she looked in the rearview mirror to see Bud, her diminutive hands thumbing through the pocket dictionary the doctor had given her. She breathed a sigh of relief.