by Zoje Stage
“If it’s a matter of her refusing … Won’t requires a different type of doctor than can’t.”
Suzette felt her face reddening, as if her hands had moved to her throat, squeezing the life from her. “I—we—don’t know what to do. We can’t go on like this.” She gasped for air.
The doctor wove his fingers together and gave her a sympathetic, if lopsided, smile. “Behavioral difficulties can be just as difficult to manage as physical ones, maybe more so.”
She nodded. “I always wonder … Am I doing something wrong?”
“It causes strain in a family, I understand. Perhaps the next thing to try … I could recommend a pediatric psychologist. I wouldn’t recommend a psychiatrist, not until she has a diagnosis. In this age, they’re so quick to write prescriptions, and maybe this is something you can work through.”
“Yes, I’d prefer that, thank you.”
“I’ll send a referral through your insurance company…” He turned back to the computer.
Suzette worked the kinks out of her purse strap, feeling slightly dizzy with relief. She tucked a piece of Hanna’s hair behind her ear.
“I try to avoid toxic things,” she said to the doctor’s slouched back. “Not that all medication is toxic, but like you said, society’s so quick to find a pill for something, never mind the side effects. But if it’s not a disability … An organic solution, that sounds good.” She turned to Hanna. “We’re going to work this out. Find someone you might talk to.”
Hanna took a swat at Suzette’s fussing hand and curled her lip in a snarl. Suzette shot her a warning glare, then peeked at the doctor to make sure he hadn’t seen.
Hanna bolted to her feet, crossed her arms, and stood by the door.
“In a minute, we’re almost finished.” Suzette made her voice sound endlessly patient.
Spinning back around on his stool, the doctor chuckled. “I don’t blame you one bit, young lady, cooped up at the doctor’s on a sunny day.” Suzette stood as he did. “The referral will probably take a few days, then you can schedule something directly with Dr. Yamamoto. She’s a developmental child psychologist and has a great way with kids, very established. And hopefully Hanna will connect with her. They’ll print out all the information when you check out.”
“Thank you so much.”
“She might even be able to recommend some schools for you.”
“Perfect.” She looked over at her daughter, not surprised to see the angry scowl on her face. Through bad behavior, Hanna had made herself unwelcome at three preschools and two kindergartens. Suzette had come to believe that their mother-daughter relationship would improve only when they had some distance—when Hanna went off to school. And Suzette wanted their relationship to improve. She was tired of yelling “Hanna, stop!” and maybe she shouldn’t yell, but there were endless reasons—small and large—why she’d needed to. Plucking all the leaves off the houseplants. Pulling on every loose thread, no matter what it unraveled. Mixing a cocktail of orange juice and nail polish remover. Throwing balls against the glass wall of their house. Staring at her and refusing to blink or budge. Hurling sharpened pencils like darts across the room. Hanna had creative ways to amuse herself, and most of them were intolerable.
Since the doctor confirmed there was nothing physically wrong, then, for the sake of her own health and sanity, it was time to convince Alex that they needed to find a school for Hanna. Maybe someone else would succeed where she hadn’t in disciplining the girl. She couldn’t phrase it to him as a desperate need for her own time and space; she couldn’t make it all about herself. Hanna behaved quite lovingly in his presence, and often he saw silliness where she saw mischief, and her more-provocative antics he ascribed to intelligence. He remained blind to his own hypocrisy, all the things he explained away as normal while exalting her precocity. So that would be her argument: Gifted Hanna was bored; she needed more stimulation than what she was getting at home.
One way or another, she wouldn’t let Hanna continue to derail her life.
Hand in hand, they engaged in a silent contest of who could squeeze the tightest, as Suzette smiled at the nurses on their way out.
HANNA
SOMETIMES MOMMY WAS an octopus with a sharp blade in each hand. It seemed fair to Hanna that when Mommy bruised her heart, or made her feel all icky crumbly inside, that she should be able to hurt her back. She didn’t like Dr. Caterpillar Eyebrows scanning her with his X-ray vision, trying to find out what was wrong with her. She didn’t like how Mommy talked about her, like she was broken. Bad. Worthless. And to make it worse, it was all an act. Mommy just wanted to find a good reason to return her. She’d seen her do it before, in line at a store.
“This is defective—can I get a refund?”
She knew Mommy wanted to get rid of her; she was always trying to leave her behind. That’s what school was all about, though Hanna had other reasons to resist. The noises. The grabby children. The piercing red panic of not having her own space. By the age of four she was on to Mommy’s other tricks, like the babysitters. It was unacceptable; Mommy was failing her tests to prove her motherly love. And the more she failed, the more opportunities Hanna tried to provide for her to redeem herself. Though she wasn’t always sure of the rules to their war games. And when she scrunched up her brain, she couldn’t quite remember who had started it.
Abha. She was the last babysitter. Hanna always remembered her name because it reminded her of ABBA, a musical group from where Daddy was born. He liked to sing the “Dancing Queen” song to her, holding her as they twirled and bopped around. It wasn’t Abha’s fault. Hanna was ready to burst before the girl even rang the doorbell. She wanted to dress up and go to the party and have Daddy’s friends smile at her and say nice things that made her feel like she was full of bubbles. Not stay home, forgotten, with another bug-eyed stranger.
She remembered tiptoeing into Mommy’s room. When she saw Mommy in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror in an oil slick of a dress, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled over to Mommy’s side of the bed. It wasn’t Hanna’s first spy-and-capture mission. She knew all of Mommy’s habits, like the way she always picked out her jewelry before getting dressed, and then left it sitting like lost treasure on her bedside table. Mommy planned to wear a pair of sparkling little hoop earrings and a swimming-pool colored gemstone that dangled from a delicate chain.
Hanna plucked the earrings from the table and whisked them away to her room.
There wasn’t much time—Mommy looked almost ready to leave—so she tucked the earrings into a little hole in Mungo’s back. Mungo was a very, very old stuffed monkey who loved to help Hanna hide things. She quickly changed into her shimmery lavender dress. It was a teensy bit small, she hadn’t worn it for a while, but it was the fanciest thing in her closet.
When she bounded back into her parents’ bedroom, Mommy was still in the bathroom, leaning against the snowbank sink that glittered with suspended ice crystals, putting on mascara. Hanna waltzed in, holding out the ruffled hem of her dress as she did a couple of spins. It was still such a pretty dress, even if it was tight across her shoulders.
“I thought you were putting on your pajamas.” Mommy’s reflection glared at her with one misshapen eye.
Hanna did a little jump, then pointed at Mommy. Go go go, she said in her head.
Mommy stuffed the brush back into the tube and turned to her. Hanna thought for sure she would notice how special she looked, so dazzling and grown up and ready for the party. She giggled, thinking about how Daddy would carry her around and say, doesn’t my squirrely girl look beautiful.
“I told you before. And Daddy told you this morning. It’s for big people, no kids will be there, and it’s all stuff you don’t eat or drink. And you need to go to bed soon. The babysitter will be here any second…”
Hanna tilted her head back, squawking in protest. As Mommy strode out, she scrambled after her, gripping the edges of the shimmery dress in her fists. It wasn’t
fair. Mommy had floated around all day—have to get this done before the party, Mommy needs to change for the party—it was all so obvious. She’d sounded so chipper confirming with the babysitting company, and checking in with Daddy: Do you need anything? Should I pick up anything else? Hanna had to eat her supper alone while Mommy stood in the little downstairs bathroom, putting up her hair. It was all Mommy wanted all day. To stop thinking about her. To leave her behind.
Hanna reached out and let her fingertips whisper her desire, gently, on Mommy’s naked arm. It was the way she said “please.” Tears knotted up in her throat.
But it was too late. Mommy stared at her bedside table.
“Where are my earrings?” She fastened the little necklace, even as her eyes searched. Tugging up her dress, she got down and peered along the floor, running her hands over it like maybe the earrings had turned invisible. When Mommy looked at her, they were at eye level. “Did you take my earrings?”
Hanna didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
“They were diamonds. An expensive gift from … Did you take them?”
The doorbell rang.
Mommy stood. Her belly went in and out as she breathed, glaring down on her.
“Please, Hanna. The last time, those were just … They had no value, but … Please.”
No moving. No blinking.
The doorbell rang again.
Mommy chuffed and marched out. Hanna chased after her. Maybe Mommy would lose her temper and send the babysitter away and then tear apart the house in search of the earrings. What a sight that would be, Mommy making a mess! Hanna would “find” them and return them to her. And Mommy would be so happy, she’d take Hanna with her to the party.
In her dark and shiny dress, Mommy moved like a crashing wave, spilling down the stairs toward the front door.
“Hi, thanks so much for coming—I’m Suzette, this is Hanna.”
“Hi Hanna, I’m Abha.” She had straight black hair that fell in a swoop over her shoulder when she bent to smile in Hanna’s face.
“Come in. She’s not verbal yet—”
“Is she potty-trained?” Abha asked, stepping inside.
“Oh yes.”
Hanna roared like a lion who’d stepped on a thorn. Stupid Abha would regret thinking she was a baby; she was four.
Mommy showed her the kitchen—help yourself—and how the TV remote worked—in case you want to watch something.
“I have some studying to do, after Hanna’s in bed.”
“You’re at Pitt?” Mommy asked.
“Yes, third year.”
Hanna followed the tour upstairs, growing more disappointed and growly. Mommy clearly still intended to leave her with the babysitter, even without finding the precious diamond earrings.
“Hanna might throw a little fit about wanting to sleep in our room—she’s tried that with other sitters before—but she knows she’s supposed to sleep in her own bed.” Mommy flicked on the light in Hanna’s room. “She can watch TV for about fifteen minutes after I leave, then she should come up to bed. You can read her a book.”
“It looks like Hanna’s dressed as a princess—are you a princess?”
It’s a party dress, you dodo.
“She has clean pajamas under her pillow.”
Abha held her hand out to Hanna. “Want to watch a little TV? What shows do you like?”
Mommy led them downstairs and Hanna did not take Abha’s hand. “She knows which channels she’s allowed to watch. Our cell numbers are on the fridge…”
Hanna ran ahead and leapt onto the couch. She heard the dress rip a little, but so what—she’d show Daddy and he’d say, time for a new one. She pushed the little buttons that controlled the big TV … But Mommy wasn’t done talking to Abha.
“Um, I’d asked the agency for someone really experienced, because Hanna”—she met Hanna’s eyes across the room—“can be a handful. I just want to make sure, you’re really—”
“Don’t worry. I’m certified in CPR, I know how to treat a choking child. I was a nanny for a year for two-year-old twins, I’m a big sister, a little sister, an aunt—I’ve been around kids my whole life.”
“Okay, I just don’t want you to … It can be hard because she doesn’t talk. So please, call if things … It’s fine to call us.”
“I will, don’t worry.”
“Goodnight, baby. Be good.” Mommy blew her a kiss that evaporated before it reached her on the couch. “Why don’t you go put on your pajamas before you watch TV. Are you sure you don’t know where my earrings are?”
Hanna turned up the volume on the television, but she still heard when Mommy left, shutting the door behind her. Abha sat down near her, and Hanna fought the urge to swing on her long hair. The babysitter smiled, but Hanna only glowered in return. Until a pang in her tummy gave her the most wonderful idea.
She sprang up and jumped over the back of the couch, racing to get upstairs.
“Changing into your pj’s?” Abha asked.
Hanna nodded, grinning, so excited to execute her plan.
She was already half out of her dress before she got to her room. She threw it on the floor.
A minute later, she stood in the threshold of her bathroom, panties at her feet, and started wailing. For good measure she let out a shriek or two, in case Abha couldn’t hear well over the television.
The startled babysitter bumbled up the stairs, and Hanna made sure to keep crying, even though she wanted to laugh, as Abha took in the problem: the puddle of pee and pile of poop she’d left on the floor.
“Oh no, did you have an accident?”
Hanna nodded, still crying.
“We’ll just get everything cleaned up, it’s okay.” But Abha crinkled her nose and Hanna knew the mess was disgusting. That’s what Abha deserved, for thinking she might not be potty-trained.
She let Abha clean her off and dress her for bed, even though Hanna could have managed it all herself. One foot over the other, she leaned against the hallway railing, eager to see Abha’s technique for cleaning up pee and poo. She knew how Mommy would do it—had even seen her do it once, when Hanna, at two, had legitimately not made it to the potty in time. Mommy had gloves and cleaning stuff stashed under every sink, but Abha didn’t know that.
Abha stood with her hands at her waist, weighing her options. “Does your Mommy have spray bottles and sponges in the kitchen?”
Hanna nodded, sucking in her lips so she wouldn’t grin. It was turning out to be not such a bad night after all. She skipped after the babysitter, thrilled by her every move.
Abha took off all her silvery rings and set them on the kitchen counter. Hanna took such interest in them, she barely noticed Abha anymore. She nodded when asked a question, and let the babysitter return upstairs alone with her paper towels and gloves and cleaning stuff.
There were four rings, each one enticing in its own way. But in the end she chose the smallest one, with a braided band and a reddish stone in the middle. She knew Abha would ask her later “What happened to my ring?” and she didn’t want another round of blinking-and-not-moving, so she opted to go to bed. But first, she hid the remote control so Abha would be stuck watching loud cartoons all night.
The mess was gone when she reached the top of the stairs, and Abha was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. Hanna yawned and headed for her room.
“Ready for bed?”
Yup.
“I’ll just finish up and come tuck you in.”
Before slipping into bed, she offered Mungo another treasure to keep safe. She heard Abha next door, scrubbing up her hands under a gush of water. When she came in a few minutes later and put the back of her hand on Hanna’s forehead, it was still a little damp.
“Feeling okay?” she asked. Hanna nodded. “Good. Want me to read a story?”
Hanna shook her head. She only liked Daddy to read to her. But she pointed to her cheeks, one, and then the other, so Abha would kiss her goodnight.
Smooch. “
Sweet dreams.” Smooch.
When Abha went to sit back up, Hanna grabbed hold of a thick chunk of her hair. It seemed possible that it might be strong enough to swing on. She gave it a little yank, testing it.
“Hey.”
Abha tried to pull her hair free, but Hanna wouldn’t let go; she gripped it in both hands.
“What are you doing?”
Hanna just gazed at her, a satisfied smile on her face.
“I have to get up now.”
But Hanna wouldn’t give up the grip on her hair.
“Hanna…” Abha tried to pry her fingers off, but that just made Hanna squeeze as tightly as she could. She yanked it again, bringing the babysitter’s face closer to hers. Abha looked a little freaked out.
“Stop it, this isn’t funny.”
Yank.
“Ow! Hanna!”
Hanna kept pulling. Slowly. Closer. Knowing Abha couldn’t pull her head away without making it hurt worse.
When they were nose to nose, they engaged in a stare-off.
“I’m telling your mother.”
Hanna shrugged. But Abha had bad breath. She didn’t want the babysitter in her face forever. Time to make a move.
Ruff! Hanna barked. To her own ears it sounded very authentic.
It startled Abha enough that she jumped backward and yelped. Tears stood in her eyes as she pressed one hand against her scalp, and grabbed her shank of hair in the other.
Hanna laughed and let go.
Abha gave her a crazed look. She hurried from the room, switching off the light and shutting the door.
Hanna knew she wouldn’t come back in, even to inquire after her missing ring. Abha would probably tell Mommy and Daddy everything, but that was good. Mommy would wonder if she stole Abha’s ring, or pooped on the floor on purpose. But Daddy would say, Poor lilla gumman isn’t comfortable around strangers.
