From a distance Nat seems normal, but when you get close you start to notice things are a bit of. She rocks from side to side. She drags her chin along her chest. She won’t ever look in your eyes, and sometimes stares straight at your privates. My dad says Natalie views the world through her own personal kaleidoscope and it’s our job to see from her perspective. Tat sounds good until she’s counting every hairpin in the bathroom when my bladder is about to explode, or she’s lying flat on the ground in the middle of the train station when the cutest girl in school walks by.
Today, Mom and Nat are waiting for Mrs. Kelly to arrive. Mrs. Kelly is the teacher who helps her learn the social graces.
“You nervous?” I ask my father as he sits on the edge of his bed, giving his shoes a last buff. His face is newly shaved, his skin smells of soap, and his shoes are as shiny as good silver spoons, but still he keeps shining them.
“He’s fine,” my mother calls.
My father smiles as he slips his stocking feet into his shoes. “See, I’m fine,” he says, smoothing down his hair and placing his officer’s cap squarely on his head.
“You’re nervous,” I say.
“Could be,” he answers.
“You want one of Nat’s buttons…for luck?” Natalie collects buttons. She loves them the way I love baseball.
“Tink she could spare one?”
I head back to the kitchen. “Nat, Dad needs a button. Can you let him have one?”
Nat’s head is down, inches from her plate, her eyes focused on chasing the slippery whites of her egg. My mother glares at me. “I just got her to sit down for breakfast.”
Nat wiggles out of her chair and heads into the living room. A minute later she comes back with her hand tightly closed.
She walks up to my dad, who is gulping the last of his coffee, and opens her fist to reveal one flat, four-hole button.
My father beams at her. “That’s a beaut, sweet pea,” he says, sliding it into his pocket.
“Ninety-seven,” Nat says.
“I’ll take good care of ninety-seven. You betcha. Guess I’m all set now, except for one thing.” He gives my mother an embarrassingly long kiss.
My mom smiles. “Good luck,” she says.
I follow him outside. He grins at me. “Where do you think you’re going? Tink I can’t handle the job on my own, do you?”
“Of course I think you can handle it,” I say, though I am worried. My dad is too nice to be a warden.
I watch as he walks across the connecting balconies and turns the corner to the stairs. A minute later, he’s down below, where eight cons are sweeping the dock. Darby Trixle’s got his eye on them, barking orders through his bullhorn. He loves that bullhorn, sleeps with it under his pillow. Probably takes it to the bathroom with him too. I can just hear him: “Bowel movement approaching.”
I follow along after my dad down the stairs. Not close enough for him to notice. I don’t want him to send me back home.
“Good morning, Darby.” My father walks over for a chat.
Darby sucks his belly in and pokes his chest out. “Good morning, boss,” he says.
Will Darby be nice to me now that my dad is his boss?
Probably not.
My dad looks at all the prisoners as he talks to Darby. I know the names of some. There’s #227, Lizard, a big woolly mammoth of a guy with a puffy face and spindly legs. Annie says he ate a lizard in the rec yard once—that’s how he got his name. There’s #300, Count Lustig, a world-famous con man. And there’s #141, Indiana, who has no chin and no eyebrows. Indiana waves at me when Darby isn’t looking. But having a chinless, eyebrow-less felon wave at you is not fun, believe me.
I’m not the only guy watching all of this either. Donny Caconi is on the 64 building phone, but his eyes are tracking the cons. Donny is the grown son of Mrs. Caconi, the lady who knocks on your door if the phone is for you. Since she weighs more than a river barge, and there are a lot of steps in 64 building, this is impressive. Mrs. Caconi’s husband used to be a guard here, but he got transferred and she didn’t go with him. Nobody knows why.
Donny is tall, thin, and graceful as a girl—the opposite of his mother—and he dresses snappy like he has loads of girlfriends. He nods his head at me as if I’m his long-lost friend. Donny is everybody’s long-lost friend. We all really like him.
Dad finishes his conversation and heads up the switchback.
Ten I see Count Lustig motion to Darby. Darby rolls his eyes at the Count but walks his way. With Darby’s back turned, Indiana spits on the dock behind my father. Lizard and another con with red hair laugh.
My father glances back at them, his brow furrowed. He knows something happened, but he’s not sure what. He’s too far up the road to do anything anyway…but I’m not.
A little voice in my head tells me this is not my business and I should stay out of it. But that little voice doesn’t understand how I’m the warden’s son now, and I have to start acting like it.
My feet step over the white painted line that we’re not supposed to cross when the cons are down here.
“Don’t do that!” I tell Indiana in my most threatening voice, but I’m so nervous, it comes out wibbly-wobbly.
Indiana looks at me with his chinless, eyebrow-less face. Lizard cocks his head toward Indiana as if to say Take a look at that kid.
Darby half walks, half runs toward me, his tight blue officer’s jacket bristling. “Get outta here.” He waves me back in short angry motions.
“He spit at my father,” I say. But when I look at Indiana, his face is perfectly blank, like he doesn’t speak our language.
“Your father needs his kid to take care of him?” Trixle barks.
“He didn’t see it. I did.”
Trixle shakes his head, then waggles his finger at me. “I don’t care what you see. You stay out of the dock area when the cons are down here, because I sure as heck don’t need your help.”
My arms are shaking and my legs feel like tapioca pudding. I retreat back across the line as fast as my shaky legs will take me.
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Notes from a Liar and Her Dog Page 17
