People keep coming at her with jugs of coffee, she says no. I eat so many bacon I lose count, when I say, “Thank you, Baby Jesus,” people stare because I think they don’t know him in Outside.
Ma says when a person acts funny like that long boy with the metal bits in his face called Hugo doing the humming or Mrs. Garber scratching her neck all the time, we don’t laugh except inside behind our faces if we have to.
I never know when sounds are going to happen and make me jump. Lots of times I can’t see what makes them, some are tiny like little bugs whining but some hurt my head. Even though everything’s always so loud, Ma keeps telling me not to shout so I don’t disturb persons. But often when I talk they don’t hear me.
Ma says, “Where are your shoes?”
We go back and find them in the dining room under the table, one has a piece of bacon on it that I eat.
“Germs,” says Ma.
I carry my shoes by the Velcro straps. She tells me to put them on.
“They make my feet sore.”
“Aren’t they the right size?”
“They’re too heavy.”
“I know you’re not used to them, but you just can’t go around in your socks, you might step on something sharp.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
She waits till I put them on. We’re in a corridor but not the one on top of the stairs, the Clinic has all different bits. I don’t think we went here before, are we lost?
Ma’s looking out a new window. “Today we could go outside and see the trees and the flowers, maybe.”
“No.”
“Jack—”
“I mean no, thanks.”
“Fresh air!”
I like the air in Room Number Seven, Noreen brings us back there. Out our window we can see cars parking and unparking and pigeons and sometimes that cat.
Later we go play with Dr. Clay in another new room that has a rug with long hair, not like Rug who’s all flat with her zigzag pattern. I wonder if Rug misses us, is she still in the back of the pickup truck in jail?
Ma shows Dr. Clay her homework, they talk more about not very interesting stuff like
“What a coincidence. Are you enjoying it here?”
“I’m enjoying the bacon.”
He laughs, I didn’t know I made a joke again. “I enjoy bacon too. Too much.”
How can enjoying be too much?
In the bottom of the trunk I find tiny puppets like a spotty dog and a pirate and a moon and a boy with his tongue stuck out, my favorite is the dog.
“Jack, he’s asking you a question.”
I blink at Ma.
“So what do you not like so much here?” says Dr. Clay.
“Persons looking.”
“Mmm?”
He says that a lot instead of words.
“Also sudden things.”
“Certain things? Which ones?”
“Sudden things,” I tell him. “That come quick quick.”
“Ah, yes. ‘World is suddener than we fancy it.’ ”
“Huh?”
“Sorry, just a line from a poem.” Dr. Clay grins at Ma. “Jack, can you describe where you were before the clinic?”
He never went to Room, so I tell him all about all the bits of it, what we did every day and stuff, Ma says anything I forget to say. He’s got goo I saw in TV in all colors, he makes it into balls and worms while we’re talking. I stick my finger into a yellow bit, then there’s some in my nail and I don’t like it to be yellow.
“You never got Play-Doh for one of your Sunday treats?” he asks.
“It dries out.” That’s Ma butting in. “Ever think of that? Even if you put it back in the tub, like, religiously, after a while it starts going leathery.” “I guess it would,” says Dr. Clay.
“That’s the same reason I asked for crayons and pencils, not markers, and cloth diapers, and — whatever would last, so I wouldn’t have to ask again a week later.” He keeps nodding.
“We made flour dough, but it was always white.” Ma’s sounding mad. “You think I wouldn’t have given Jack a different color of Play-Doh every day if I could have?”
Dr. Clay says Ma’s other name. “Nobody’s expressing any judgment about your choices and strategies.”
“Noreen says it works better if you add as much salt as flour, did you know that? I didn’t know that, how would I? I never thought to ask for food coloring, even. If I’d only had the first freakin’ clue—”
She keeps telling Dr. Clay she’s fine but she doesn’t sound fine. She and him talk about
“Was he in a shed too?” I ask.
Dr. Clay shakes his head.
“What happened to him?”
“Everyone’s got a different story.”
When we go back to our room Ma and I get into the bed and I have lots. She still smells wrong from the conditioner, too silky.
• • •
Even after the nap I’m still tired. My nose keeps dripping and my eyes too, like they’re melting inside. Ma says I’ve picked up my first cold, that’s all.
“But I wore my mask.”
“Still, germs just sneak in. I’ll probably catch it from you by tomorrow.”
I’m crying. “We’re not done playing.”
She’s holding me.
