I Can Hear the Mourning Dove (14 page)

A checkerboard and the pieces are on the card table. He asks me if I want to play a game. I think checkers is a very boring game, but I would never say that to him. He sets up the pieces and I sit across from him. I wonder if checkers is played anywhere other than mental institutions.

“I have my own rules for checkers,” he says.

“Please, what does that mean?”

“The usual way is too boring. The way I play, when you get to the back row and get a king, you get to change the rules any way you want. You get to decide how all the pieces move. You can move them backwards, sideways, double, or anything you want.”

He makes me very uncomfortable. If the rules are changed, it will be stressful. “It sounds so complicated,” I say.

“Nah. Nothin' to it. Then if the other guy gets a king, he gets to change the rules any way
he
wants. It goes back and forth like that; the rules are always changin'.”

“I get confused about things sometimes.”

“You need to chill out a little bit. It's no sweat, just make a move. Any move you want.”

We play for a few minutes, then Mrs. Grant comes. It's time for medicine, she says. I need to go to the bathroom, I have to pee so badly. I am relieved that she has come.

I have forced the last blob of grouting compound between the tiny blue and white squares of ceramic tile. The compound dries gritty on my fingers; this is the fourth candy dish I have made. I have no idea what my mother and I will do with four candy dishes, we never eat candy.

“Mrs. Meade,” I say, “correct me if I'm wrong, but I think these used to be called ashtrays.”

“That's correct.”

“But when smoking became socially unacceptable, it seemed appropriate to change the name from ashtray to candy dish. Is that how the evolution occurred?”

“Something like that.”

“I suppose I could call two of them ashtrays and the other two candy dishes, but what if you don't smoke cigarettes or eat candy either?”

“You'll just have to find some other use for them.”

“It would be nice to bring Beauty and the Beast to crafts someday and spray paint the beast. Do you have gold spray paint? Of course I'm not sure my father meant it to be that way, and the paint would have to be a perfect match. I'll tell you what: it would be nice to make an
Ojo de Dios
.”

“My, aren't we talkative today,” says Mrs. Meade. “I'll tell
you
what. I'll bring some sticks and yarn tomorrow so you can make an
Ojo
.”

“Thank you of course, Mrs. Meade, I'll be happy to work on one. But I have to keep in mind that eyes and voices in the sky are really delusional.”

Mrs. Higgins comes in. She tells me I have visitors.

“Please, Mrs. Higgins, I don't understand.”

“You have two visitors in first floor lounge. I've come to take you down.”

“What about my raisin dish? I've decided to call it a raisin dish.”

“You can come back to it. Come on now, Grace, let's go.”

She leads the way down the hall while I follow. The knot forms in my stomach. “Mrs. Higgins, I've never had visitors before. Is it someone besides my mother?”

She smiles. “Why not wait and find out? Be surprised.”

Be surprised? Is that what she said? “But who are the visitors? I hope they're not from the criminal justice system. The one called Luke Wolfe told me some things about his crime the other day. But I didn't seek the information, I've done nothing wrong.”

“Grace, please calm down. It's no one from the legal system; I think they're from your school.”

When we get to the first-floor lounge, I stop and stare. It's DeeDee and Miss Braverman. They are sitting on the couch in the corner, beneath the shelves of library books.

A small corner of my mind is happy to see them, but the knot in my stomach constricts in shame and humiliation. For several moments I stand as stiff as a statue.

I finally walk over to them. “I've never had visitors before,” I say. “I'm not sure what to do.”

“Neither are we,” says Miss Braverman. “We wanted to visit, but we didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I can see right away that it's nice to have visitors,” I say. “But it's also humiliating. I'm not sure I want people to see me here. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Mrs. Higgins?”

“Yes, I do understand. But just relax and have a nice visit. I'll be back in a little while.”

After she leaves, I sit straight on the couch. DeeDee is wearing a yellow sundress; her arms and shoulders are golden brown. Miss Braverman's dress is aqua with stripes. I am keenly conscious of my own clumpy, unkempt appearance.

“We miss you at school,” says Miss Braverman.

I think immediately of the hallways, so long and confusing, and some of them where danger lurks. There is only a trace of static in Miss Braverman's voice. “I'm sure I'm not going to cry, Miss Braverman, and I'm also sure I won't get scrambled. Please, you must forgive my appearance. I didn't know anyone was coming. I have my Looney Tunes tee shirt, but it's not clean at the moment.”

“You look just fine, Grace.”

“It would be nice to have a visit, but we must try to avoid long, awkward silences.”

Miss Braverman smiles. “That's not likely to happen with DeeDee and me in the same room.”

“How are you doing?” DeeDee wants to know.

“I come and go,” I say quickly. “I have good days and bad. I always take my medicine, but I don't know if it helps me. Dr. Rowe helps me understand things; she has so much insight into the pathological psyche.”

Miss Braverman asks, “Dr. Rowe is your doctor?”

“Not only mine, but everybody's. I wish I could talk to her more often, but there are so many crazy people.”

“Is there anything you need from school?” DeeDee asks.

“No, thank you. My mother brings my homework. I have my dad's Beauty and the Beast sculpture, and I have a cookie which has gone far beyond its life expectancy.”

DeeDee stands up. She says to Miss Braverman, “Should I get it now?”

“You might as well,” Miss Braverman answers.

Their exchange confuses me. DeeDee leaves and Miss Braverman says to me, “We brought you something. We decided to leave it in the car until we were sure we'd get to see you.”

“You brought me a surprise?”

“It's just a little something we thought you ought to have.”

Suddenly, I feel a lump in my chest. “It's so thoughtful of you to bring me a surprise.”

“Don't get your hopes too high, Grace. It's not a new Corvette or anything like that.” Then she wants to know about the books on the shelves behind us.

“This is the library,” I tell her. “These are all psych books and medical books about mental disorders.”

“I'll bet you spend a lot of your time reading.”

“Sometimes in the evening I sit here and read. Sometimes it's too scary. If you're sick, it's good to know about your illness. Dr. Rowe says knowing is good, but acting is better.”

“If I had to guess, I'd say you've been a book reader most of your life.”

“It's true I've always been a bookworm. It's my father's influence. When I was small, we read together just about every folk and fairy tale there ever was. But there's probably a bad side to it. Instead of relating to other people, I've always been alone with a book. I like reading, but it's also a way for me to withdraw. Things scare me, so I withdraw. I don't mean to talk so much, but isn't it amazing how everything seems to have its good side and its bad side.” I can't imagine I'm making any sense, I'm not calm, but Miss Braverman says, “That's a good point.”

“Miss Braverman, at least I could have done something with my hair. Nice hair is a nice thing. Do you use a conditioner on your hair? I think it would be really good for me to take more care with my appearance.”

She laughs. “Stop worrying about your appearance. You look just fine. Yes, I use a conditioner. When you shampoo your hair every day, it's supposed to be healthy to use a conditioner.”

“Shampooing one's hair every day is such a lofty thought. But that's probably what I should do. That's probably the way life is meant to be lived; there would be so much control that way.”

Then DeeDee returns. She has a very large rectangle under her arm, wrapped in brown paper.

“Surprise, Grace,” she says. She stands the rectangle up on the couch and begins to tear away the wrapping.

It is my science project. DeeDee separates all four panels so that they are standing side by side.

“It's my science project,” I say dumbly. “But it's not defaced.”

“Take a closer look,” says Miss Braverman. “Go ahead.”

I get up to stand right in front of the panels. I can see that the posters have traces of white markings. Some of the white is a slightly different color. But the lettering and the pictures are clear, with no swastikas.

I say, “I don't understand.”

“DeeDee repaired your project,” explains Miss Braverman. “She fixed it. It got a rating of excellent, which means you can enter it in the regional science fair at Northwestern.”

Immediately, my eyes are blurred with tears. “DeeDee, how did you do this? How did you fix it?”

“If there was enough room, I used poster paint. For the tight spots, mostly around the lettering, I used typewriter whiteout.” Her eyes are sparkling.

“It must have been so much work for you.”

“It didn't seem like a lot of work. I felt so bad about what happened to you.”

“I can't tell you how kind and thoughtful it is,” I say. I have tears sliding down my face. “DeeDee, please, I'd like to give you a hug now.”

We hold each other. Her slick, cool shoulders. Her hair smells fresh and sweet. “It's so kind and thoughtful of you,” I say again. “My mother said you would still be my friend, but I just can't imagine that anyone would really care for me or want me around.”

DeeDee has tears of her own. “Of course we're still friends. Why wouldn't we be?”

“Dr. Rowe says it's very important that I learn to see myself as worthwhile. It's easy for her to say. When you're crazy wild all the time, you don't feel you can do the things that other people do; you feel like you've given up your rights. Please, I'm sorry for this babbling, but I can't seem to stop.”

“If it makes you feel better,” she says.

“These are not tears of despair, DeeDee, these are tears of joy, caused by so much goodness.”

“I know what you mean, Grace.”

After we separate, Miss Braverman gives us a tissue packet; we begin wiping our eyes.

“I'm glad you came. At first I was embarrassed and tense, but now I'm glad.”

Miss Braverman says, “It looks like we made the right decision, DeeDee.”

“She means about deciding to come and visit,” says DeeDee. “We talked it over for quite a while and asked your mother. I wanted you to see the science project, you worked so hard on it.”

“Why don't we all sit down now?” says Miss Braverman. “Let's have some tea.” She has taken a beige Thermos and three small cups and saucers from her large woven handbag. She sets everything on the coffee table in front of the couch. “We don't have cream or sugar, but the tea should still be warm.”

I look at DeeDee and I start to giggle. “You told her.”

DeeDee is also giggling. “You said it was a fantasy, but you never said it was a secret; you never said I couldn't tell anybody.”

Miss Braverman is pouring.

I say, “Actually, it's against the rules to bring any food or drink from the outside.”

“If you promise not to tell, I promise not to tell,” says Miss Braverman. She smiles, and screws the cap back on the Thermos.

“It's too bad we don't have any munchies,” says DeeDee.

But the words are scarcely out of her mouth, when I remember the cookie. I sit up straight as a post. “We do, though, we do! Please wait just a moment, I'll be right back.”

I run up the stairs as fast as I can, and down the hall to my room. I rescue the cookie from beneath the pillow and run all the way back. “Let's use the cookie,” I say, fighting for breath. “It's so big, we can break it. It isn't perfect, but it's better than nothing. My appetite is improving anyway, and why should the cookie just sit there and disintegrate into crumbs?”

“I think this cookie will be just the thing,” says Miss Braverman. She breaks it into half a dozen small chunks and spreads the chunks on a Kleenex.

We start nibbling the chunks and sipping our tea. “Would you like to hear about the science fair?” asks Miss Braverman.

“Yes, please,” I say. “I'm still out of breath and I would like to hear about it.”

“It's held on the last Saturday of October, at the University. We'll be taking one of the school vans. Besides you and DeeDee, there are three other students going. There's a ten-dollar entrance fee for each project, and we'll have to buy a couple of meals.”

“It sounds wonderful,” I say. “We will spend the day together and eat our meals together. It will be so much togetherness.”

“I think you'll enjoy it,” Miss Braverman says. “There are always so many fascinating exhibits.”

“Up in my room I have thirty dollars, and Dr. Rowe says I'll be getting out of the hospital before too much longer.”

“It sounds like we have a date, then.”

DeeDee says she hopes the van is air-conditioned because the weather has been so hot.

“According to the paper, we've broken four heat records already this month,” says Miss Braverman.

“It's more like July than October,” says DeeDee. “And it's so dry. I wish we'd get a little rain. I have to water my little trees every night.”