Authors: Jesse Kellerman
Tags: #Psychological fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Art galleries; Commercial, #New York (N.Y.), #General, #Psychological, #Suspense, #Drawing - Psychological aspects, #Psychological aspects, #Thrillers, #Mystery fiction, #Fiction, #Drawing
I couldn’t say mam.
Yes you can, you have an opinion, don’t you.
No mam.
You’re very well trained. How much did he pay you.
Mam.
I’ll see to it you’re taken care of. You call this number. Do we have an understanding?
Yes mam.
Idiot. How long did he intend to keep this up?
I couldn’t say mam. He talked about finding the boy a school.
The woman in the hat looks at Victor and shudders. Well it’s done now.
They put him in a car and drive him through the snow. He has never been so far from home. Mrs. Greene sits with him, holding his hand. He does not know where he is going and many times he feels frightened. He screams and Mrs. Greene says to him Please Victor. Look at the trees. What do they look like? Here, take the paper. The bumping car makes drawing difficult. He tries to steady his hand but then when he starts to get something on paper he feels sick and has to close his eyes. He wants to go home. When will they turn back? He wants his bed and his cocoa, he wants his spinning top. He cries and Mrs. Greene says Look at the trees, Victor.
The trees are pointy and tall and white. They look like sugar rock.
At dusk they come to a house. It is bigger than any house he has ever seen, much bigger than his house. The house has a sooty face with yellow eyes. The car stops and Mrs. Greene gets out. Victor sits in the car.
Come on dear.
Victor gets out of the car. Mrs. Greene holds a small suitcase in her hand. She is standing very stiffly. Then she kneels down in the snow in her stockinged knees. Her eyes are small and red. You must be a good boy. Do you understand me?
He nods.
Good. Promise me you’ll be a good boy.
Ah here he is, our young gentleman. A man with stuck-down hair stands at the top of the stairs. He smiles. Hello there, young sir. My name is Dr. Worthe. You must be Victor. He holds out his hand. Victor puts his hands behind his back.
He’s very tired sir.
I can see that. The rest of the boys have just sat down to dinner. Would you like something to eat, Victor?
He’s quiet sir.
Dr. Worthe, who does not resemble the other doctor at all, crouches so that his face is near Victor’s. Are you hungry, young man? He smiles. Well, cat’s got his tongue. Victor doesn’t know anything about a cat.
They go inside. There is a big wooden staircase and a sparkly light. Mrs. Greene puts the suitcase down. We didn’t have time to pack all his things. I’ll send them along.
We’ll make sure he has everything he needs. Won’t we, Victor?
Then Mrs. Greene says I’m going to go now, Victor. You must listen to the man and do as he says. Be a good boy, be on your best behavior. I know you’ll do me proud.
She walks toward the front door. Victor follows.
No, you must stay.
Come, young man, let’s put something in your stomach, hey?
You must stay Victor.
Come on young man. Let’s be grown-up about this.
Victor. No. No Victor no. No.
They hold him.
Then he is alone.
Dr. Worthe puts his hand on Victor’s shoulder and leads him out a different door. They walk along a stone path to a brick building with a puffing chimney. Victor hears a car start and he wants to see if it is Mrs. Greene but Dr. Worthe squeezes his shoulder and says Now, now.
In the brick building they go first to the dining room. It is bigger than any room Victor has ever seen, running the length of the building and filled with tables and benches, boys and men of all ages wearing white shirts and brown sweaters and ties. Some of them look over when the door opens. They stare at Victor. Everyone is talking, the noise hurts Victor’s ears. He covers his ears but Dr. Worthe pries off his hands.
Let’s introduce you to some people who can be your friends.
Dr. Worthe shows him where to get food. There is a window and you go with a metal tray. The man in the apron gives you a plateful of stew. You take the tray and you sit at the third table.
Boys I’d like you to meet your new classmate. This is Victor. Say hello boys.
Hello.
Say hello Victor.
Victor says nothing.
Be friendly now. It is not clear who Dr. Worthe is speaking to.
Victor sits at the end of the bench. It is crowded and uncomfortable. He sees that there is another table with more room and he goes there.
No they say. You must go back. A man with a long neck takes him by the arm. Victor screams and bites him. The man lets out a shout and then everyone begins to shout. The noise makes Victor’s ears crackle. He has hot liquid on his arms, it burns him. The shouting grows louder and louder until Dr. Worthe stands on a chair. That’s enough. Victor is on the floor. Dr. Worthe comes near him and he screams. Dr. Worthe picks him up, another man also picks him up and they carry him away. He screams. They put him on a bed. You must stop screaming, nobody will hurt you. Dr. Worthe tells them to turn him and they turn Victor over and then he feels a jab and he falls asleep.
DURING THE DAY HE HAS LESSONS. Victor takes the pencil and paper they gave him and he draws the other boys. He draws the backs of heads, the sides of heads, the teacher’s face. Sometimes he imagines what it would look like to see the room from another place and he draws that. Outside the classroom window there is a big tree that reaches with its arms, he draws it. He draws pages of snowflakes. He puts the papers inside his desk.
He does not do his lessons well. Dr. Worthe says You must study.
The only lessons he likes are geography. He likes the shapes. Some of the maps have countries and some have continents. Africa and South America dragons’ heads nodding. He draws Italy a boot. He draws Spain a man with a big nose coughing out islands. He draws Finland. He draws Ceylon a teardrop. He draws Australia. The teacher says that there are kangaroos in Australia. He does not know what a kangaroo is. The teacher shows them a picture. A kangaroo is a big rat. He draws the teacher with whiskers and a tail. He draws the other boys in the class in the shapes of countries they resemble. George is Chile and Irving is Germany. Victor draws them and puts them in his desk. His desk is bottomless. He will never fill it up.
The older boys play football. Victor does not understand. Instead of watching the players he watches the patterns their boots make in the snow. At first the snow is smooth, then they begin and the dimples spread like bubbles in a pot. They are beautiful but then the snow gets too mushy. Victor wishes they would stop in the middle so they don’t ruin the beautiful patterns. But the next day it snows again and the surface is clean.
The other boys do not talk to him. They call him Twitter. Victor thinks about Mrs. Greene. He asks for her often and the teacher does not understand. Dr. Worthe brings him into his office.
I understand you miss your old friend. Do you know how to write a letter?
He does not.
I’m going to show you what to do. Then you may write to her anytime you want. We encourage you to write, and to be friendly. How are you liking your friends? Do you know everyone’s name? Do you enjoy your classes?
Victor says nothing.
Naturally it has been difficult for you. You must try harder. It will get easier the more you practice. I see that you have not done your homework. That is not acceptable. You must do your homework. If you have trouble then ask for help. I will help you personally. That isn’t something I say to everyone. I say it to you because I think you’re a special child. I know that you’re capable of more than we’ve seen from you. I would like you to succeed. Would you like to succeed? Well would you?
He nods.
Good. Very good. Now let’s write that letter.
Dr. Worthe shows him the salutation. Now you write whatever you’d like.
Victor chews his pencil. He does not know what to do. He draws a picture of Belgium.
Dr. Worthe looks at the paper. This is what you want to write to her? Victor nods.
I don’t think she’ll understand this. Wouldn’t you like to tell her how you are? Do you want to tell her about your friends? Let me have that for a moment if you please. Dr. Worthe erases Belgium, leaving a faint outline that he writes over. Dear Mrs. Greene. Hello. How are you? I am fine. I am trying very hard to do my best in school. I am enjoying my schoolwork. I have many friends. What else can we tell her? Yesterday we had potato soup. It was—Victor? Did you like the potato soup?
He did not eat the soup. He shakes his head.
Dr. Worthe says All right. Yesterday we had potato soup. It was not my favorite although still very tasty. My favorite foods to eat are—
Dr. Worthe is staring at him. Victor?
Victor is frightened. He feels stupid. Oatmeal he says.
Oatmeal. Excellent. I enjoy eating oatmeal, which—Dr. Worthe smiles—is very fortunate because we receive it for breakfast almost every morning.
This is true. Victor has never eaten so much oatmeal in his entire life. He does not mind it, but he has a feeling that he will not like it soon.
I hope that you are very well and that you will come to visit. You may visit whenever you’d like. Perhaps when it is not so cold you will come to visit. Dr. Worthe stops writing. Is there anything else you’d like to tell her?
Victor shakes his head.
Now you need to sign the letter. How would you like to close? You may say sincerely or cordially or your friend. Here, take it. You choose.
Victor thinks. He writes Your friend.
Now sign your name.
He signs his name.
Good. Dr. Worthe turns the letter around. This is not correct. Let me— may I? He takes the pencil from Victor. Friend is spelled like this. Do you see?
Victor nods.
Very good. Now we need to address the envelope.
Then Dr. Worthe licks a stamp. He puts it on the envelope. You see, Victor? Now it goes in the mailbox. And now you’ve written a letter. Let’s see if she writes back to you.
She does. Many months later he receives a letter from Mrs. Greene. It is very short. Dr. Worthe gives it to him in his office.
Dear Victor Victor reads.
Read it aloud please. Speak up.
Dear Victor Victor says. I am so happy to hear about you. I think of you often. I have left the house, so I did not get your letter until they sent it along to me. I have a new home. The address is at the top of the page. I have a new job, too. I work for Dr. Fetchett. Do you remember him? He sends his regards. He thinks of you often, too. Love, Nancy. Inside curvy lines she has written Mrs. Greene.
Dr. Worthe looks pleased. That is a very nice letter. And now that we have her correct address we may write to her as much as we’d like. What shall we write?
This time he lets Victor lick the stamp. It tastes funny.
Our flight to Boston was delayed several hours; we didn’t make it to Cambridge until almost eleven P.M. We took a cab to the hotel where Tony Wexler would stay whenever he came to Harvard to fix my mistakes, and I gave my credit card for both rooms. In my attaché I had a plain-paper copy of Victor’s picture, as well as a CD-ROM with the scanned image. I hadn’t spoken much since that afternoon, and I must have looked morose, because when we got in the elevator, Samantha put her hand on my back.
“I think my blood sugar’s low,” I said.
“We can get dinner.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged. “I’ll make an exception.”
I smiled feebly. “I think I’m going to get room service.”
“Call me if you change your mind.”
In my room I stripped down to my underwear and ordered a tuna sandwich that I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I set the tray outside my door and lay down on the bed, staring at the darkened TV set, waiting for it to spring to life and fill up with Victor’s face. I’m no spiritualist, but I honestly expected at least an
attempt
at communication. If not through the TV then taps on the wall in Morse code or the lights flashing on and off. I waited and waited for him but he never came. My eyes started to close, and I was almost under when a soft knock woke me.
I put on my trousers and my shirt and opened the door a crack. It was Samantha. She apologized for disturbing me.
“It’s fine, I just passed out. Come in.” I stood back to let her in. She stayed outside, looking first at me, then at the uneaten sandwich on the floor.
“I wasn’t hungry,” I said.
She nodded, staring at the ground. I realized that my shirt was unbuttoned and hanging open. I drew it closed. “Please. Come on.”
She balked, then crossed the room to the armchair, where she sat looking out on the green Eliot House cupola. I stood next to her, and for a few minutes we said nothing, watching the moon flirt with us from behind the shifting clouds.
I said, “Did you see the size of his hands?”
She said nothing.
“They were like paws. Did you see them?”
“I saw.”
“I have a hard time picturing him strangling someone with those hands.”
“They were children.”
I said nothing.
“It must be jarring,” she said.
I nodded.
We watched the sky.
“Thank you,” she said.
I looked at her.
“For what you did on the plane,” she said.
“Of course.”
“You probably expected me to smack you.”
“I can take it.”
A silence.
She said, “I’m sorry I’ve been so cold to you.”
“You haven’t.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“A little, maybe.”
She smiled.
“It’s all right,” I said.
She said, “I can’t stand acting like this. I used to be such a stable person.” She paused. “I missed you when I was away.”
“Me too.”
A silence.
She said, “I want you to wait. Is that terrible for me to say?”
“No.”
“Yes, it is, it’s terrible to put you on notice like that.”
“It’s not terrible, Samantha.”
“Please call me Sam.”
“All right.”
“My dad used to call me Sammy.”
“I can call you that, if you’d prefer.”
She said, “Just Sam’s fine.”