It works again, this time at the Burger Bar on Catalina Avenue, where they were advertising for a swing-shift cook. It means that he’ll have to leave Leo alone in the afternoon and evening, but so far the kid seems surprisingly self-sufficient. He even puts himself to bed, and Tinker’s starting to think it’s the same time every night. The kid is always looking at his yellow plastic watch.
Tinker lets Leo take the bed, since the boy seems to assume it’s his. He doesn’t mind the pullout, especially since he likes to stay up and drink beer and fall asleep in front of the TV. Pretty soon he’s going to get one of the waitresses to bed, and he can only hope the boy sleeps hard.
After a couple of days in the new apartment, he’s made a little progress on the food with Leo. He ate the bologna that Tinker brought home one night. He carefully removed the edges, but he didn’t count the bites. He rolled up each piece into a tube, put it to his eye and looked through it, then ate it.
It made Tinker laugh, but the boy was dead serious. Tinker thinks how proud Ray would be to see his brother taking such good care of Leo. He’s pretty sure Ray’s looking down from heaven and cheering him on.
Next he tries to get Leo to eat peanut butter, but something about the jar upsets him. He shoves it away with a grunt. Maybe it’s creamy instead of chunky, or the wrong brand, or the wrong color. Damn, who’d raise a kid to be so damn picky? Inez. Inez would.
He’s seen a commercial that said, “Choosy mothers choose Jif,” so next time he tries that kind. As soon as Leo spots the Jif, he grabs the jar and takes two slices of the Wonder bread, as if he wants to make the sandwich himself. Tinker reluctantly offers him a butter knife. Starting in the middle of each piece, Leo makes perfect swirls of Jif outward until none of the bread shows, then he slaps the two slices together.
Tinker is surprised but relieved to discover the boy can make his own sandwich. But he’s annoyed, too. Choosy mothers make choosy kids, and then look what happens. They turn out like Leo.
After a few nights, Tinker realizes that the boy should probably have a bath. But he knows better than to think he can touch Leo, so how’s he going to get him in the water? He pictures all kinds of screaming and crying and rocking shit.
But as soon as Tinker turns on the water and starts to run the bath, Leo comes to the door. He begins to strip off his clothes himself, which is a huge relief. Tinker makes a mental note that he needs to buy the boy some changes of clothes.
* * *
—
THURSDAY AFTERNOON, TESSA comes home from school, bakes some oatmeal cookies, and arranges half of them on a paper plate. She never would have tried this with the grouchy old man who last lived in the apartment, but she’s curious to meet the new boy next door.
Maybe all the knocking he does is his way of apologizing to her for staring. Weird, but you never know with boys. She’s been watching for him to come out of the apartment, but if he does, it’s when she’s at school. While she was baking cookies, though, the fat-belly man—her dad says his name is Phil—drove away in the white Impala. The boy wasn’t with him, and so she figures he’s in the apartment alone.
But what if he thinks the cookies are stupid? Or what if he’s rude to her again? To be on the safe side, Tessa decides she’ll act like she thought his dad was at home. When he answers the door, she’ll say Is your father around?
And if he’s mean about the cookies, maybe she’ll be mean right back and say I made them for your father, not for you.
Tessa is working up the courage to knock when she hears a faint sound coming from inside the apartment. It sounds like hard raindrops hitting the window, but that can’t be. Finally, she knocks three times. The intermittent sound of rain continues but nothing else. She knocks again, harder, and the tinkling stops. She pictures the boy. Alone, trying to decide.
“Hello?” she calls. “Anyone home?”
Moments later, she hears a knock on the other side of the door. She is flustered. What’s that supposed to mean? She knocks again, two raps. She hears two raps in return. She gets it now: It’s a game, like the other night. But what is she supposed to do? Stand here and play knock-knock all afternoon?
“Hello!” she says loudly to the door. “Do you want to answer the door?”
Silence. She waits. She smells the warm cookies she’s holding in her left hand. She wishes they had chocolate chips in them. She is about to knock again when she hears the tinkling sound resume.
She can’t even believe it! Why would he knock back and then ignore her?
Made bolder by frustration, she puts her hand on the knob—not to open the door, she assures herself. Just to see if it’s locked, which it is.
Finally, she makes up her mind. She sets the cookies on the ground and darts back down the stairs to the shop. She knows her father keeps the master key to the apartments on a ring in the back of a desk drawer.
Moments later, she’s standing at the boy’s door again, master key in hand. She pictures how much trouble she could get in if her dad found out she broke in to someone’s apartment. But she’s not breaking in, is she? She’s just worried about the boy. That’s it! What if the boy needs help?
She feels her face burning with shame even as she forces herself to slide the key in the lock. She tells herself she doesn’t really mean to turn the knob and push the door. But, of course, she knows better. She always knows better, even when she doesn’t want to.
The door cracks open a few inches and Tessa peers in. She sees the boy, kneeling at the window, his back to her.
“Hello?” she calls. But the boy acts like she’s not there. And then she realizes what he’s doing. Throwing her jacks against the window. That was the sound she’d been hearing. She knew she left them on the stoop that day.
What a little thief! But she’s not prepared to accuse him, in case she’s wrong. She makes a throat-clearing sound, the kind you make to get someone’s attention. The boy doesn’t react at all, which is when she realizes he must be deaf. That would explain a lot.
She steps into the living room and says loudly, “Hello! Can you tell me your name?”
“My name is Leo,” he says in a slightly mechanical way, his attention still on the jacks.
Clearly he’s not deaf. “Hi, Leo. I’m Tessa,” she says in a kind voice. “I live next door.”
Nothing.
“I brought you cookies.”
She walks over and sets the cookies on a small gray card table that serves as the kitchen table. She’ll take them with her when she goes so Leo’s dad won’t know she was here. She notes the unmade pullout bed in front of the TV. The beer bottles that line the kitchen counter.
“Would those happen to be my jacks?” she asks in a friendly way. He doesn’t answer, so she walks over and stands right near him. His face is delicate for a boy, his nose a little snubbed, and his eyebrows are arched and thin. He’s also weirdly skinny.
That’s when it hits her. The kid probably wasn’t staring at her from the car that first day but at the jacks. And now he isn’t being rude; he’s just got something wrong with him. That has to be it. Leo probably belongs with those kids at her school who are in special ed.
She notices that the little red ball that goes with the jacks is lying nearby. She retrieves it and then gets on her knees at the wide windowsill next to Leo. When she starts to bounce the ball and catch it, the boy stops throwing the jacks. Starts watching the ball.
“Do you want the ball?” She holds it out to him on her open palm. He stares at it and then takes it from her. His eyes are metal gray and they skitter, like he might be trying to look at her but he can’t.
He begins to bounce the ball on the sill, exactly the way Tessa did, and she feels her heart fill up. “Do you know when your dad will be home?” she asks.
Nothing.
She asks how old he is. “I’m seven,” he says, in his small
, robotic voice. She thought her dad had said the boy was six. She’s not sure how long she sits there watching him bounce the ball, but it’s long enough to be totally amazed that he isn’t growing bored.
He makes her think of her friend Kelly’s kitten, how it is so easily distracted by toys and loses interest in her and Kelly. She wishes Leo could at least look at her. Or talk to her.
When she reaches out to touch the boy’s shoulder, he yelps and jerks away as if she’s hurt him.
“Okay, no touching!” she says quickly.
She thinks again about the special-ed kids at her school. They rarely cross paths with the regular kids. Tessa always wants to feel sorry for them, but she can’t, because they always seem so happy. Maybe Leo is happy, too.
“Leo,” she says. “Leo is a good name.”
Suddenly, Leo stops rolling the small red ball and holds it up, turning it. He gets a look on his face like he’s just realized something. “Venus!” he says. “Venus is red.”
Leo becomes Tessa’s after-school secret. She has never had such a big secret before, and she worries it might be the same as a lie.
She’s always careful to make sure the Impala is gone before she borrows the master key and visits Leo. She’s figured out by now that Leo’s dad works afternoons and evenings. Her father doesn’t notice she’s gone, just assumes she’s doing her usual routine or visiting her friend Kelly, who lives nearby.
Because Tessa is also doing volunteer work at the old-folks home down the street, she’s busier than she would be. But every time Tessa visits Leo, he’s lying on his side, spinning the wheels on his car. Or sometimes he’s watching the TV without really seeming to watch.
Sometimes she finds him sitting quietly on the floor in a patch of sun that’s coming from the big front window. She wonders if kids like Leo get lonely, and she hopes not. Often, she brings a new toy or some other item to see if it will interest Leo or get him to speak again. She’s always careful not to leave anything behind, so Phil won’t know she was there.
So far, Leo doesn’t respond to her horse book. He shows no interest in the handheld plastic pinball machine she brought him. She tries different foods, too. No to lollipops. No to Velveeta. And then one day Leo responds to a bag of Cheetos, with strange grunting sounds that make Tessa think he’s upset, until she realizes he is excited.
“You like Cheetos, Leo?” She hands him the bag and he gently dumps its contents onto the table. Carefully, in a way that makes Tessa know he’s done it before, he arranges the Cheetos into three horizontal lines. He eats the first of the Cheetos from the left top row. “One,” he says. Then he eats the next and says, “Two.”
“Leo, you can count!” she exclaims. His voice is a little nasal, but it also sounds sweet to her. When he finally eats the last of the Cheetos, he says, “Twenty-six.” Then he carefully licks the orange dust from each finger, starting with his left pinky and ending on his right thumb.
When he’s done, Tessa bursts into clapping but stops when Leo clamps his hands on his ears. He clearly hates loud noises. But then she gets an idea. If Leo can count, maybe he can do the ABCs? She begins to sing the ABC song, and sure enough, Leo joins in. The way he sounds singing makes Tessa want to laugh, but she holds it back. When they finish the song, she doesn’t clap.
She just says, “Leo, you can sing the ABCs.”
She leaves the apartment that afternoon thrilled by her discoveries. Three big successes in one day—Cheetos, counting, and ABCs!
Tessa is dying to tell someone about Leo, but there’s no one to tell but her mom. So she lets herself whisper out loud, “Mom, can you believe it?”
That night, as she cuts the fat off the chicken breasts she’s using to make chicken and dumplings, she worries about Leo in a new way. If Leo can count and talk, shouldn’t he be in school? Her dad says Phil teaches Leo at home. But Tessa knows better—there’s no evidence of anything like that in the apartment.
She does see evidence of Leo’s father, though. There are beer bottles. Clothes lying all over the floor. Food left out and, often, dirty dishes in the sink. But there’s a lot missing, too. No pictures on the walls. No photos anywhere. No signs, really, of a family.
She debates telling her dad everything, confessing to what she’s pretty sure is called “breaking and entering.” But she just can’t bring herself. Usually, she and her father talk a lot while they eat dinner. He asks her about her day. About her homework. He tells her how grateful he is that she is such a good girl. Sometimes he tells her funny stories about the people who come for tattoos.
But tonight she can’t think of anything to talk about, because she can’t talk about Leo. So, in near silence, they eat the chicken and dumplings and canned green beans she made. “Are you working tonight?” Tessa finally asks.
“Nope,” says her father. “But guess what? It’s figure skating on the Olympics tonight.”
“Oh, that’s my favorite!” Tessa says, and she means it. Plus, she loves to watch any kind of sports with her father. She likes to lean up against him. She likes to study the tattoo of her name on his left arm. Sometimes he puts his arm around her. She likes to wait on him as if she’s a waitress. Do you want a beer? Can I get you some potato chips?
During a commercial, Tessa checks out the front window to see if Leo’s dad has gotten home yet, but there’s still no sign of the Impala. She wishes again that she could tell her dad about the boy. She could lie and say he let her in, but lying is a bad sin, and her mother would see it happening.
She brings her dad some potato chips and ranch dip, his favorite. He puts one arm around her shoulder, which makes her realize Leo must never get hugs, since he won’t allow touching. What would that feel like, to live without ever getting hugged?
Maybe someday Leo will let her. At every commercial break, she checks her bedroom for the sound of knocking. She can’t bear the idea of him knocking and her not being there to knock back.
* * *
—
ONE DAY TESSA is in the grocery store with her dad, when she spots a huge metal bin full of plastic balls in various swirly colors. She thinks of Leo and the red ball he calls Venus. Surely he’d like another ball.
The next day is Saturday, so when she sees Phil’s car leave earlier than usual, she figures he has errands to run on his way to work. She takes her gift to Leo, and just like she’d hoped, he clearly likes it. She watches Leo spin the swirly purple ball in one place. Then she teaches him how to roll it on the floor back and forth with her. She finally tires of the game and stands, ready to go. Just then, the door to the apartment opens. Phil is standing there with a bag of groceries, looking surprised and angry. “What the hell is going on?” he says.
“I’m sorry,” Tessa stammers. “Remember me? I’m Tony’s daughter, Tessa. I’m just visiting Leo. We’re friends.”
For a moment, she can see that Phil is wavering, trying to decide something. Then he forces his mouth into a smile. “Well, isn’t that nice. Did Leo let you in?”
Tessa ignores his question.
“I actually need to go home now,” she says. “Goodbye, Leo!”
She races from the apartment, down the long back hall and around the corner to her own door. Why didn’t she watch for the Impala? Why wasn’t she more careful?
* * *
—
ONCE THE GIRL is gone, Tinker’s anger spikes. “How the hell did that girl get in here?” he demands of Leo. “Did you unlock the door, Leo?”
Of course, the kid won’t answer. He is lying on the ground, twirling a purple ball that Tinker’s never seen before. “God damn it, answer me!” Tinker says. He strides over and kicks the ball as hard as he can against the wall. He’s gratified when it bounces back and hits Leo in the face.
When Leo starts to wail, Tinker wishes he could hit the kid. Spank him or something. But, God damn it to hell, he’s too good
a person. Instead, he grabs Leo by the arm, and of course he starts screaming, “No touching! No touching!” Still, Tinker drags him into the bedroom and roughly shoves him onto the floor of the closet.
Let him knock his head all he wants.
He returns to the living room and looks around. The girl left behind a bag of Cheetos, on the kitchen counter. What the hell has been going on?
He angrily grabs the bag and starts eating the Cheetos. Turns on the TV to drown out Leo’s banging. After Tinker has a few beers, he feels bad. He goes to the closet and opens the door. For a moment, he watches the kid hitting his head and making his moaning sounds.
“Shit, kid, I’m sorry,” Tinker says. “Do you want some bologna?”
* * *
—
BACK IN HER apartment, Tessa hears Leo knocking his head on the wall of his closet. She’s figured out by now that this is where he does it. She knows it means Leo is upset, and she feels terrible. The guilt eats at her the rest of the afternoon, so much that she plans to tell her dad that night what she’s been doing. But instead of coming up for dinner, he calls her from the shop and asks her to bring dinner down so he can eat between customers. “Got a long night, baby,” he says. “You deserve better.”
It’s one of her father’s favorite phrases. “You deserve better.” Which Tessa knows is her father’s way of saying, You deserve a mother.
Over the next two days, Tessa stays completely away from Leo’s apartment. She half-hopes that Phil will tell her dad she’s been sneaking into his apartment, because she doesn’t have the courage to do it herself. But for some weird reason, Leo’s dad doesn’t rat on her.
In the meantime, what if Leo is missing her? What if he thinks she left him all alone and isn’t coming back?
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