by Mike Hopper
“Did you actually say what I think you just said?” Olivia asked.
“I did.”
“Without me?”
“That’s how it’s done.”
“What?” Olivia shouted. “This is ridiculous. Who do you think is paying your bill? How can I help my children if you’ll not allow me to participate in their appointments?”
“Ms. DuBoise, you’re asking for my help. In order for therapy to work, the children need to be seen privately. They need an opportunity to share their feelings openly without fear of repercussion. That means I will not be reporting what is shared in our sessions.”
Olivia held her head in her hands once more, “I don’t believe this. I came here for your help, and this is what I’m getting? What kind of physician are you?”
“The best.”
The room was quiet. Olivia sat with her head in her hands. Steuart and Sam smiled at the doctor.
“Ms. DuBoise, if you’re not comfortable I can refer you to another physician.”
Olivia sat silently before speaking in a softer voice, “No—you’ll do.”
Steuart leaned back, looked at Sam, and winked. Sam smiled, unintentionally catching the doctor’s eye. Something felt right. For once, Sam felt safe. Steuart did too.
“Why can’t I be with my children for their appointments?”
“Sam and Steuart must have a place to come where they’re able to speak openly and freely about the things that are on their minds.”
“How can you help my children if I have no idea what they’re telling you? This makes me uncomfortable. I should be aware of what’s being discussed.”
“Ms. DuBoise, do you want my help? Do you want me to treat your children?”
“Yes.”
“Are you certain?”
“I think so.”
“In addition to Sam and Steuart’s sessions, I would like to see you.”
“That’s not necessary. There’s nothing wrong with me. My children need your help.”
Dr. Klesel looked at Olivia, “Behavioral problems in families are often symptomatic of deeper problems within the family. The best results happen when parents are well trained.”
“I beg your pardon. I am not a dog. I do not need to be trained, nor do I need anyone to teach me how to be a good mother.”
“We need to stop for today and arrange for next week.” Dr. Klesel scheduled two back-to-back sessions for each of the children.
Olivia nodded.
“It’ll take a few weeks before we can find a regular appointment slot. Until then, we can go week to week. Olivia reluctantly agreed to see Dr. Klesel twice a month under the guise of “parental updates.”
The family stood to leave and told the doctor good-bye. Before walking out of the office, Sam handed her mother a tissue. Olivia threw it into the trash.
* * *
Dr. Klesel’s office was located in River Towers, a group of two residential high-rise buildings on the north side of the river; about one-quarter of a mile from the DuBoise’s new home. He had a view of the Preserve, the Maybell Hospital and the downtown Maybell skyline. From his office, there were great sunsets and breathtaking views of the Saugahatchee River. His office was a comfortable place for the children to visit. In a short time, they felt safe, relaxed, and looked forward to their appointments, which were beginning to feel more like visits than therapy.
At home one day while playing with anagrams, Steuart became excited. “This is a good one,” he said. “Sam, I like this. Look at Dr. Klesel. He’s a shark yeller.”
“What’s that?” Sam asked. “What’s a shark yeller?”
“Well,” Steuart began, “It could mean that he sees the sharks and he knows how to keep them away.” Steuart waited for Sam’s response while she looked at the anagram.
“Like a light house?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Exactly, that’s what I was thinking too.” Steuart rolled his eyes, and leaned forward with a laugh. “Harry Klesel is a shark yeller.”
“Do you think he knows?” Sam asked.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
Deciding to give the doctor a gift, Steuart and Sam spent hours working on an art piece. Using pencils, markers, cutouts from old catalogs, stickers, crayons and a bit of glitter too, they worked for hours. They stitched on the paper with a needle and thread, glued beads and shells, and added photos of themselves with cryptic clues in the margins of the artwork. The piece became more of a collage than a drawing. Satisfied with their work, Sam loosely rolled the picture, and tied it with repurposed gold ribbon found in her mother’s gift-wrap closet. Steuart held his finger on the knot as Sam finished making the bow. “What a fun surprise,” Sam said. “This was a great idea.”
SEVEN
On good weather days, Steuart and Sam rode their bikes to see the doctor. They enjoyed having appointments one behind the other and enjoyed that his office was close to their house.
A kind man who listened and talked easily with the children, Dr. Klesel was tall and thin. He had curly gray hair, and wore dark framed glasses. His voice was soft and deep. Sam, Steuart and Dr. Klesel quickly became friends. Often, instead of sitting on the sofa, the three of them sat on the big rug in the middle of the room and played games. Dr. Klesel had a variety of interesting games and seemed to enjoy them as much as the children. One day when they were together as a group, Steuart shared their surprise. “Sam and I have something for you.”
Dr. Klesel untied the ribbon, unrolled the picture and spread it on the floor. “What is this? Did you make this wonderful artwork?”
Sam pretended to be the doctor. “What does it look like to you?”
“Well, let me see,” Dr. Klesel bent down and analyzed the artwork with a brass lizard-tail magnifying glass. “I see your initials. You both made it, so we know this is your work of art.” He paused, and looked at the children. “I think I’d like to hear your interpretations.”
“We were hoping you’d play along,” Steuart said. “We want to know what you think about it. What comes to mind?”
“Okay, I’ll try. Please remember, this is your creation. What matters the most is what you think.” Dr. Klesel started to say something and then he stopped, “I can’t help it,” he laughed. “What comes to mind is that I’d like to know what this means to you.”
“Okay,” Steuart pursed his lips and looked at the doctor before letting out a deep sigh. “If you insist—we call it Shark Yeller.”
“It’s you,” Sam added.
"I’m a shark yeller? What’s a shark yeller?”
“It’s not a realistic portrait of you,” Sam explained. “It’s our interpretation. Think about it Dr. Klesel.” Sam looked at Steuart, “Should we play the question game, or should we just explain?”
“He’s not so young and our sessions don’t last that long. I think he needs our help.”
“Okay,” Sam nodded, “Shark Yeller is the anagram for Harry Klesel.”
“I had no idea.”
“Steuart found it.”
“I did,” Steuart nodded. “We liked it and decided to make this for you as a surprise.”
Dr. Klesel cocked his head and smiled as he looked at the picture. He pointed and asked questions. “Shark Yeller, I don’t understand. What makes me a Shark Yeller? That’s me?”
“Yes,” Steuart answered.
“Okay, but where am I? Am I hiding someplace? I see two children, but I don’t see myself.”
“No, you’re not hiding,” Steuart blurted. “You need to look harder. You’re the lighthouse with the face at the top. You’re holding the big red bullhorn. See the initials S.Y.?”
Dr. Klesel nodded and listened.
“We’re the kids in the boat,” Sam added.
“That’s a small boat. What can you tell me about the boat?”
“Sam and I are in the boat together,” Steuart explained. “See the sharks in the water?”
“I do. I see a large number of sharks out there.” Dr. Klesel st
udied the art piece. “The water looks rough and choppy to me.” He stopped for a moment before pointing to a shark wearing pearls. It was jumping towards the boat. “I’m curious about this big shark, the one lunging so close to your boat; the one on the giant wave, wearing bright pink lipstick.”
Sam and Steuart ignored the question.
“The sharks,” Sam explained, “the sharks are the danger all around us. You’re like a lighthouse. You’re helping us see the sharks in the water. You’re helping us stay away from the danger.” She waved her arms around as if she were rocking a boat. Steuart stood up and joined his sister.
Dr. Klesel stood. He joined the children rocking, and then wrinkled his forehead. “Are you in danger?”
Sam and Steuart became quiet.
“Is there something you want me to know? That water looks very rough.”
Steuart sighed, “You understand these things.” He walked across the room and looked out the window.
Dr. Klesel turned to Sam, “Would you like to explain?”
“You understand. There’s nothing to explain.” Sam joined her brother at the window. “We just wanted to give you a gift. Do you like it?”
“Very much. Thank you.”
Steuart walked back towards the sofa, “Let’s not spend our entire visit talking about your picture. It’s just a gift. In a minute you’ll say Sam, Steuart, our time is up for today.” He looked at his sister, “I think we should talk about the colors and the words.”
Sam agreed. She joined Steuart on the sofa and sat comfortably. Dr. Klesel stayed on the floor, leaning back against his chair. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.
“May I go first?” Sam asked.
“Sure.”
“The colors call me. It’s a kind of magic. Only nothing has happened lately.”
“What do you think about that?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you did know, what might it be?”
“It makes me feel sad. The colors had more magic on Atchison Bay. It’s not the same here.”
“What kind of magic?”
“Grandmother helped. She said that the colors led me to important things and that I should pay attention to them for that reason.”
“You miss your grandmother?”
“You know the answer to that question. I miss her very, very, very, very, very, very much. I miss her every morning. I miss her every day. I miss her more often than I don’t miss her. I always miss my Grandmother.”
Steuart joined in, “Me too. I miss her too. She helped Sam with colors. She helped me with my words.”
“In what way?”
“Grandmother taught us to pay attention to words and names. Look at the words, look for anagrams, you’ll find hidden messages and meanings, she said.”
Dr. Klesel listened.
“She said they’ll take you places.”
“What did she mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Steuart became quiet as his thoughts drifted to sitting on the pier and looking out over the bay. He remembered being home with Ida.
“What’d she say about it?” Dr. Klesel asked.
“She said the anagrams would show me things if I wanted to see them.”
“Yep,” Sam said, “just like she said the colors would lead me. They’re puzzles.”
Steuart nodded, “We enjoy puzzles.”
“Grandmother likes for us to figure things out.”
“I see.”
Steuart looked at the doctor, “Grandmother says that we all need to find our own way.”
Dr. Klesel, Sam and Steuart sat quietly for a few minutes. The doctor looked at the children. “I was thinking,” he said before standing up and excusing himself. He went into an adjoining room and returned with his hands behind his back. “I also have something for you.”
“What is it?” Steuart asked.
“You’re not the only people who can have surprises.” Dr. Klesel nodded towards the door.
By this time, Sam was also standing. “What’s your surprise? Is this a game?”
“No, but I believe you’ll like what I have.” He pulled his hands from behind his back and showed the children two dolls. At first glance, Sam felt a chill in the air, and the breath taken from her lungs. She saw Steuart hold his arms. He felt it too.
“It’s the Wayward Gifted,” Steuart whispered and reached for the dolls.
Dr. Klesel looked curiously at Steuart. “Where did you get that name?”
“Look at them,” Steuart gingerly held the dolls and inspected them. “They’re bright and gifted, artistic types. This one, the boy, he’s a comic.” Steuart’s voice picked up a bit. “I can tell by looking at him.”
“How do you know that?”
“Just a feeling,” Steuart looked at Dr. Klesel and Sam. “He looks like a comedian. Comedians know comedians. I’m a funny guy. I can also tell because of the way he’s dressed. It’s his hair, the striped pants and the plaid beret. He looks like he has a good sense of humor to me.” Steuart handed the female doll to Sam.
“She feels so real in my arms,” Sam hugged the doll closely. “She’s cuddling me.” Sam hugged her again. “She’s wonderful. I love the way she feels.”
“What do you think?” Dr. Klesel asked.
“This one,” Sam said, “this one, she’s an artist, no doubt about it. She’s a painter. She makes beautiful pictures.”
Dr. Klesel pointed to the dolls feet. “But she’s wearing ballet slippers. You don’t think she’s a dancer?”
“No,” Sam shook her head, “that’s not a problem.”
“No? Are you certain?”
“An artist might wear a beautiful pair of ballet slippers like these to a gallery opening, or even a street fair.”
“That makes delightful sense to me,” Dr. Klesel stood with the children as they held the dolls and looked at them. “I need to let you know that these dolls are unusual.”
“They’re wonderful,” Sam added.
“I wonder why you call them wayward.” Dr. Klesel looked at Steuart.
“Wayward … they’re whimsical, unpredictable and perhaps a bit rebellious or irreverent. They’re not bad. It’s mostly because they’re from another place … a different world … sort of like Sam and me.”
“Steuart, I’m consistently impressed with your vocabulary.”
“Thanks SY. I enjoy finding new words.”
“Can we take them home?” Sam asked.
“Yes, you may. Just remember that you’re responsible for their care. I don’t share my dolls with many people.”
“Can we bring them to our appointments?” Steuart asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Klesel nodded, “Steuart, tell me more about your words.”
“There isn’t much to tell. It’s something grandmother taught me once I was old enough to read. When I find a word, hear a word, or see a word that I like, I collect it here.” Steuart pointed to his valise.
“Nice antique. I wondered what that was for.”
“It belonged to my great-grandfather, Matt.”
“I’ve noticed that you always have it with you. What’s your process?”
“Process?”
“Do you carry a dictionary or a thesaurus? Do you research when you first hear the word?”
“No.”
“No? Why not?”
“For the same reason that Sam doesn’t carry a color wheel.”
“Why’s that?” Dr. Klesel turned to Sam.
“Boring.”
“Really?”
“Yes, we like to investigate and figure things out on our own. It’s fun.” Sam looked at Steuart, “I think our time’s up for today. We need to get going.” She looked at Dr. Klesel, “We can talk more about these things at our next appointment.”
“Also,” Steuart continued talking, “when I find an anagram I know that it’s a word I have in my vocabulary. By doing that I’m always interested in learning new words.”
Sam yawned.
; “Do you ever look things up?” the doctor asked.
“Eventually, but I like to wait until I’ve taken a little time to see if I can figure it out on my own. Then I check to see if I’m right or not.”
“Interesting.”
“Dr. Klesel, thank you for sharing your dolls with us.” Sam reached out to give him a hug, but changed her mind and stepped back. “Please don’t throw out any of your magazines before we see you again. There’s a color on one of the pages that I’d like to have if that’s alright with you.”
Dr. Klesel looked both pleased and puzzled, “Sam, I want to hear more about your colors when you come back. We can look at the magazine together.”
Sam and Steuart walked towards the door.
Steuart stopped, “Thanks Shark Yeller. Thanks for the doll.” He nodded in an appreciative manner and then grew concerned. He stood close to the doctor. “I need to be absolutely sure about something—before we go home.”
“About the dolls? What’s your concern?”
“About the dolls. He...” Steuart looked away, and then back, “...this one is okay for a boy, isn’t he? You get my meaning?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t he be?”
“My mother, you know, she thinks that boys shouldn’t have dolls.”
“Oh,” Dr. Klesel stopped for a moment before kneeling down to Steuart’s eye level. “Steuart, you’re doing good work. This guy is part of that work. He’s okay. He’d be okay even if he wasn’t part of our therapy.”
Steuart looked at the doll and smiled, “Just wanted to be sure about this. Mother may give me a bit of a time about having a doll.”
“I see.”
“I like this guy.”
“I’m glad you do. You and your sister are doing great work.”
“I’m doing work. This guy’s part of my work.”
Dr. Klesel patted Steuart on the shoulder. He looked at Sam. “Thank you both for the lovely picture. I’ll see you on Thursday.
EIGHT
At first sight, Olivia quashed her children’s excitement over the dolls. The expression on her face told them what they already knew. “We do not need these things in our house. They are going back to Dr. Klesel tomorrow.”
