Child's Play

by Andrew Neiderman

  “I’ll do the dishes later,” she said.

  They both turned on her as though she had broken some sacred rule. Richard, his face a mask, was sitting perfectly straight, his back against the back of the chair. He put his silverware down softly and turned to Alex.

  “I have too much work to do. I’d better get right at it,” he said. Alex simply nodded. “Excuse me,” he added. He avoided Sharon’s eyes as he left the table.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Alex leaned forward.

  “Never,” he said, “never again interject yourself between us. I’m developing a rapport. It takes trust, and trust requires privacy.”

  “All I said was…”

  “I know what you said, but these hours I spend with him are critical. Don’t you understand from where this boy has come?”

  “I don’t see where you are suddenly qualified to act as a psychologist, Alex. Mrs. Hoffman specifically said when I talked to her on the phone that counseling is not a part of being a guardian to a foster child.”

  “I know what she said. I also know what she is. Let’s not discuss it.”

  She bit back the angry words and reminded herself that Alex was only trying to do his best by Richard.

  Later on, while she was watching television, she heard them come down the stairs and go off for their walk. She couldn’t imagine where they would go in the darkness, but she was too proud to spy on them. She didn’t even peer out the front window. She heard the door open and close.

  When nearly an hour passed and they didn’t return, she turned off the television and went upstairs. In the safety of the darkness of the bedroom, she went to the window and looked out toward town. She couldn’t see anyone. She stood there for the longest time waiting for them, watching for them; until she felt very silly doing it and put the light on to prepare for bed. She had just put her head to the pillow when she heard them come into the house.

  They spoke in indistinct murmurs downstairs and then the boy came up and went to his room. A little while afterward, Alex entered the bedroom. He didn’t put on the lights. Alex was always comfortable in the dark. She heard him take off his clothes and then go into the bathroom. When he came out, he got under the cover without speaking, but she couldn’t keep the silence.

  “Can I ask you where you went?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s so dark and cold at night now.”

  “It’s always dark at night,” he said. For a long moment he didn’t add anything. She thought he would just turn over and forget her. “We walked around the lake,” he said.

  “All the way around?”

  “The boy didn’t complain, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I just thought…it’s dangerous in the dark, isn’t it?”

  “Nonsense. Not everyone runs and hides when the sun goes down.”

  “I thought you might have taken him someplace else,” she said. She knew he knew what she meant, but he didn’t say anything. “You didn’t did you?”

  “I told you where I took him.”

  “Because he could have terrible nightmares.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Anyone would.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Go to sleep,” he snapped.

  Maybe he was right, she thought. Maybe she didn’t know what she was talking about. She was surprised at herself for being as bold as she was and saying the things she had just said. Alex was doing wonderful things with Richard. Why was she trying to ruin it? Alex turned his back to her as usual, but she felt uneasy. She was afraid to close her eyes. The boy was in the next room. Maybe he’d heard what she had said.

  She didn’t really know what Alex had been like when he was Richard’s age. Perhaps he’d been just like him. It was very possible that he had been the same kind of kid—cool and a touch hardened. What frightened her might not frighten such a boy. He didn’t show any signs of the kind of fears other children his age might have. He was certainly not afraid of being alone, even in the dark.

  She wondered if Alex was telling her everything. She looked over at his dark form. Even if he didn’t take the boy there, he told him about it; she felt sure of that. Now that Alex had a child living here, he might want to use the place the same way his father had used it. The thought frightened her, and she told herself she was being silly.

  She recalled some of the stories Alex’s mother had told her. Alex had always been a loner. From the way his mother had described him, he must have been a tough kid. Sharon’s heart had gone out to Alex, whose childhood had been so difficult. But perhaps if it hadn’t been for the old man’s terrifying ways, Alex might have become a juvenile delinquent instead of the upstanding, successful businessman he was.

  She suddenly had a weird, chilling idea. Maybe there was something strange about foster children, and orphans. Maybe they felt akin to each other. That’s stupid, she thought immediately and chastised herself for thinking something so cruel. But wasn’t it amazing how quickly the boy had grown close to Alex?

  She closed her eyes and saw the boy as a shadow. She went to sleep dreaming of a house filled with shadows, all moving with Alex, occasionally enclosing themselves around him protectively. They were his private army—the army of darkness. It was why her baby had been stillborn—he had been only a shadow. Trapped in the caverns of her sleep, she screamed.

  One night after dinner, after she had settled down to read, Alex and Richard came in to speak to her. She had long since given up pushing herself on them, and when the boy apparently enjoyed sitting with Alex in his dimly lit study to listen to that damn music with the chanting, she simply retreated into her old habits. The foster child had made little difference in her life. She tried to take satisfaction in Alex’s accomplishment with the boy.

  When they walked in, they each wore the same expression—softer than usual, almost a smile. Their voices were pleasant and there was an attempt at small talk. She felt herself being manipulated, but she permitted it because she enjoyed their company, even like this.

  “I thought you had read that one,” Alex said pointing to her book. She lifted it and turned the cover as though to check herself.

  “This? Oh no, no. I read three of her others. This is a sequel to The Silver Cross. Fascinating historical information woven in. The plot really builds and turns and…”

  “Really?”

  She could tell from his tone of voice that he had no real interest in what she was reading or what she would say about it. But when she looked at Richard, she saw that he was studying her the way some opponent might, looking for some weakness, some flaw. He had already developed the unnerving intensity of Alex’s gaze. Alex, himself, smiled.

  “We’ve been discussing an idea,” Alex finally said, “and we would like to bounce it off you.”

  “What is it?” She caught the look between them. It was a quick but definite alliance of purpose. She couldn’t help but feel under attack.

  “Actually, it originated from something you said a few days ago.”

  “I said?” She looked at Richard. He wore about as serious an expression as she had seen on him. “What did I say?”

  “You said the boy is too alone here. He needs another kind of companionship.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean…”

  “No, no, Richard and I have discussed it and we both think you’re right. He needs a friend closer to him in age, a brother.”

  She simply stared at him a moment and then looked at Richard, who sat back in his chair, imitating Alex’s posture. They both made her cognizant of her own slouching and she pulled her shoulders up. She put a ribbon in the book and closed it.

  “What do you mean, Alex?”

  “I’ve spoken to Mrs. Hoffman, who happens to agree, as well. There’s another boy, two years younger…”

  “Another boy?”

  “Well, we certainly have the room.”

  She thought for a few moments. Maybe it would be better if Richard had someone else
beside Alex. When she had made that remark to him a few days ago, she had done it out of frustration and annoyance, but now she gave it serious consideration. Richard had been going to school for nearly a month now and had made no real friends. No one called him or came over and no one invited him to his house. Any place Richard went, he went with Alex. That was not healthy for a kid his age. The truth was Richard had become so like Alex she looked forward to a new personality about the place.

  “All right,” she said, “we’ve gone this far with your project. Why shouldn’t we…”

  “It’s not a project, Sharon,” Alex snapped. He looked at Richard quickly. “Don’t call it a project.”

  “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to belittle…”

  “Maybe it isn’t a good idea,” Richard suddenly said. He glared at her. The fire in his eyes took her by surprise and she brought her hand to her throat. There was a terrible moment of silence. Then Alex sat back with deliberate casualness.

  “No,” he said, “it’s a good idea.” He stared at her, his eyes unmoving. “Sharon made an unfortunate remark and she’s sorry.”

  “I said I was.” She looked from him to Richard and then back to him again. Unconsciously, she embraced herself.

  “Then we’ll go ahead with the plan,” Alex said. “Richard and I will prepare another room. All right, Richard,” he added turning to him, “that’ll be all.”

  The boy got up, anger still lingering. He glared at Sharon once more and then left the room.

  “We’ll go to the government center in the morning tomorrow to meet the new boy. I’ve already made the arrangements with Mrs. Hoffman. I knew you’d agree.”

  She said nothing. He stood up and left her sitting there, still embracing herself. After a few moments, she heard the door of his study close and then the chanting came through the phonograph speakers.

  Where had that icy feeling of fear come from? she thought. Richard’s hateful glare lingered in her mind. As soon as she had made her remark, he had acted like an attack dog, poised and ready. She had the terrifying feeling that all Alex had to say was “Kill,” and the boy would have lunged from the chair and strangled her to death. The speed at which the mood change had come over him was incredible. She couldn’t shake it from her mind.

  After a while longer, she tried to get back to her reading to lose herself in the escapist literature, but every time the author described a character and mentioned eyes, Richard’s angry look returned to her mind. Finally, she had to close the book and go upstairs.

  She felt as though she were escaping to some sanctuary when she closed the bedroom door. She put the lights on quickly. Darkness was frightening to her. She hurried about, busying herself with preparations for sleep. Finally she decided that tonight she would need a sedative.

  After she took it and put her head on the pillow, she thought about what Alex had said. She’d never actually suggested they take on another foster child. It hadn’t even occurred to her. How did he twist things so quickly? Why was he making it seem as though she wanted a new child? Maybe she did. Maybe this one would be closer to her.

  No, that wouldn’t happen, she thought. It could never happen. Alex was too demanding, like a great magnet drawing everything to him. Alex had a charisma that overpowered people whereas Sharon was and always had been a rather nondescript personality. It was one of the reasons she’d married him—hoping to absorb some of his wonderful radiance and intensity. No wonder the boy had eyes only for Alex.

  She was growing very sleepy. A question lingered in her mind. It was buzzing about, keeping her from drifting off. This fascination with children…why had Alex suddenly developed it? There was something, an answer. She could almost see it, remember it…something from the past, his past, the past in this house, in his father’s world…something, but what?

  She couldn’t remember, and she was too tired and too unnerved to continue the search. Maybe it wasn’t so important. She decided to try to think of other things, but her mind kept returning to images at the Manor.

  She saw herself as a young girl running over a great lawn. Her parents had brought her to the Manor, and she was having a good time just being free, running in circles and skipping and pulling on weeds. Then she suddenly ran into someone—Alex’s father. He had simply appeared.

  When she looked up, his red hair seemed on fire with the sun behind him. His eyes were wide, and he looked godlike to her. She wanted to scream, but he touched her lips and then lifted her into his arms. She said nothing and he held her tightly to him.

  As he walked with her in her memory, she heard the chanting coming up through the bedroom floor.

  They had turned it up a little louder because of her unfortunate remark, she thought.

  It was her last thought before sleep finally came.

  He eyed them like a trapped rodent. Indeed, Sharon saw something mouselike about him. He clutched the arms of the chair with long, prehensile fingers. His wrists were small and fragile looking. The thinness in his body was well settled in his face: his features were too sharp, his nose pointed, his mouth pale, with worm-colored lips set in an habitual sneer. Worst of all were his eyes. Set too far forward and bulging, they peered and moved about nervously like those of a caged animal contemplating escape. There was nothing soft in his face. Unlike Richard’s, it had no redeeming features, as far as Sharon was concerned. He evinced no intelligence and perception. Now he looked about the room as though he were searching for things to steal. She didn’t want to bring this boy back to the Manor, but she had no idea how to stop it. Alex, if anything, looked satisfied, even happy about him.

  “As I was saying,” Mrs. Hoffman continued, “Carl has been in a considerable amount of trouble for one so young. Unfortunately, he’s at a crossroads, with one direction leading him to the juvenile detention center. I’m sure he realizes that you people represent something of a last chance for him. Am I correct about that, Carl?” The boy squirmed in his seat. Alex imagined Mrs. Hoffman pushing some hidden button under her desk and sending electric shocks up through the chair and into his body. “Carl?”

  “Yes,” he said. Sharon was even disappointed with his voice. It was too nasal. How could she ever get herself to warm up to such a creature, and a terribly behaved child besides? She had read the dossier.

  His parents had divorced when he was only seven, and almost immediately his father had run off, abandoning his responsibilities. Carl had started acting out as soon as he entered school, and his bad behavior intensified after the divorce. He was destructive, sneaky, and dishonest. He was brought to family court three times before the judge decided he would be better off in a foster home.

  “I don’t know about this one,” she told Alex after they left the office. “He might be too much.”

  “Nonsense. He’s still just a child.”

  “With the record he has? You can see it in his face, Alex. His eyes are close together like a rat’s and his face is so sharp. He even twitches his nose. I was watching him while Mrs. Hoffman gave him that lecture.”

  Alex looked at her in astonishment.

  “Totally ridiculous way to judge a human being. Can you imagine if someone looked at you that way? Your ears are pointed. Are you a demon?”

  She said no more about it then. If she said more, he would only get more insulting, she thought. Even so, she had a nightmare about the boy that night. In it he came to her bed and began nibbling on the bottom of her foot. She actually kicked up and cried out, waking Alex. When she told him about her dream, he suggested she put a mousetrap by the bed every night. It was hours before she could fall asleep again.

  She was totally intimidated by the boy when he arrived, and Dinky wouldn’t go near him—he simply cowered and slinked at her side, so she was happy when Alex took complete control. The three of them went off to what Alex called his “orientation session.” She saw very little of Carl the first few days, but she didn’t complain, until a little more than a week later she found herself missing five
dollars.

  Sharon didn’t like carrying much money on her, but she knew she had five dollars remaining from what she had that week. She had left her pocketbook in the living room and was positive now that the boy had simply gone in there and taken the money.

  “I didn’t lose it, Alex,” she stressed. She had debated whether or not to make an issue of it, but she had run out of bath oil and she was on her way downtown to buy some. Soaking in a hot tub was one of the pleasures she truly enjoyed. “You didn’t take it, did you?”

  “Of course not. Why would I take your money?”

  “I didn’t lose it,” she repeated softly. He bit his lower lip and nodded.

  “No, you didn’t lose it. Forget about it,” he said, and gave her a ten-dollar bill.

  “The money’s not the point, Alex.”

  “I know what the point is. I’ll take care of it.”

  She shook her head and left him. If he wanted to protect the boy, let him, she thought. He’ll be sorry in the end. The boy didn’t steal anything during the next week, but he did something else that caused her to be even more against him.

  She was lying in her bath, enjoying the scented oily water, dipping her washcloth in and letting the warm drops run down between her breasts. Her eyes were closed, and as always, she envisioned a sexual experience. She had just lifted her hands to cup her breasts when she heard Dinky’s low growl.

  She opened her eyes and looked at the dog. Its body stiffened. She followed the direction of its gaze and saw that the bathroom door was slightly ajar. There on the floor outside crouched Carl. She saw his rodent eyes studying her and she screamed. Dinky began to bark. She embraced herself to hide her nakedness and lowered her body into the water. When she looked again, Carl was gone.

  Slowly she emerged from the water and wrapped a towel around herself. When she opened the bathroom door, she confronted an empty bedroom. The dog lingered behind her as she went to the bedroom door and looked down the corridor. There was no one around. She locked the door and got dressed.