The Perfect Child

by Berry, Lucinda

  “Hi, kiddo,” he said, ruffling the top of her hair. My heart swelled at his use of my childhood nickname.

  Janie shrugged, not seeming to care what any of the labels meant. “Do you want to see my toys?”

  “Certainly,” my mom said.

  “Come on.” She grabbed each of their hands and led them to her room, walking between them.

  I turned to look at Christopher. He was as surprised as me. “Did you see that?” he asked.

  I shook my head in amazement. “Wow.”

  She bounced out of her room to answer the door each time the doorbell rang and flung herself at whoever it was in the same way she’d greeted my mom. She led everyone into her room. Before long, the party had moved into her bedroom. We’d kept the gathering small, limited to our immediate family and a few close friends, but her room was packed.

  Dylan and Caleb sat in the center of the rug with Janie. Even though they were only nine, they looked like teenagers next to her, and I realized how small Janie still was despite the weight she’d gained. She took out toys from her bins and held them up for everyone to see, eliciting oohs and aahs from the adults around her.

  “She’s loving this,” my mom whispered to me.

  I smiled. She shined in the spotlight. It reminded me of how people had swooned over her at the hospital.

  “Can she open our present?” Caleb asked, looking up at me with his huge brown eyes framed in dark lashes that any girl would kill for. They both had the most beautiful eyes. I didn’t know how Allison ever told them no.

  I looked at Christopher, and he nodded.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Mom, where’d you put her present?” Caleb asked.

  “It’s in the living room,” Allison said.

  “Why don’t we all go into the living room and open presents?” Mabel asked.

  Janie looked confused as everyone started moving toward the living room. Dylan reached for her hand. “Come on, Janie. Don’t you want to go open your presents?” he asked.

  She still looked perplexed. “Presents?”

  “Presents. You know, toys?”

  She grabbed his hand, and they ran into the living room. The presents were piled on the coffee table. I hadn’t expected everyone to bring gifts, but no one had shown up empty handed. The boys loved showing Janie how to rip open the wrapping paper. They were as excited about the gifts as she was, exclaiming over each one with her. Janie bounced over to whoever had given her the present and threw her arms around them. “Thank you. Thank you,” she gushed.

  Christopher came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I leaned into his chest, my tension relaxing.

  “I’ve never seen her look so happy,” he whispered.

  “Me either,” I said.

  He kissed the top of my head. “Look at our parents.”

  The grandparents were sitting on the couch, and Janie had climbed onto their laps with the American Girl doll Allison had given her. I’d told her it was too expensive for a gift, but she’d ignored me like always. The grandparents took turns passing Janie around. Everyone was thrilled to have a little girl running through the house. It was so different than the boy energy we were used to from Caleb and Dylan.

  I kept waiting for Janie to act out as the day wore on or have one of her meltdowns after something didn’t go her way, but it never happened. Not even after we made her stop eating the chocolate cake Dan’s wife had brought for dessert. She let me take it from her without a fight and allowed me to wipe the frosting from her mouth without the slightest protest.

  Caleb and Dylan adored her. They fought over whose turn it was to give her a piggyback ride and spent over an hour playing hide-and-seek with her in the house before taking her outside. We had hired someone to build a wooden play structure in the backyard as soon as the adoption petition had gone through. It was one that didn’t just have the typical swings and slides but had all the extras that Janie’s physical therapist had suggested we get to help work on all her motor skills. There was a climbing wall and a clubhouse with a telescope and tic-tac-toe housed inside. They scampered up and down the structure with her.

  Allison came up to me while we watched them play. “She’s adorable,” she said, holding a beer in her hand. I could never get her to share a bottle of wine with me despite all my attempts over the years. She insisted nothing was the same as an ice-cold beer after a long day.

  If anyone could understand how difficult parenting was, it was her. She loved to tell people how she hadn’t slept for a year after the twins were born, and I didn’t think she was exaggerating because I’d never seen her so stressed. There were days she still looked ready to pull her hair out.

  “She’s definitely not what I’d pictured.” She cast me a sideways glance like she was questioning everything I’d told her before about how difficult Janie was.

  I took a sip of my wine and laughed. “Maybe she just doesn’t like us.”

  EIGHTEEN

  CHRISTOPHER BAUER

  Hannah and I sat sipping our drinks at one of our favorite restaurants downtown. Our parents were only going to be in town for a few more days, and they’d insisted we take a night out for ourselves. It was the first time we’d been out without Janie since she’d come to stay with us.

  “Do you feel guilty leaving her?” I asked.

  “I should, but I don’t. Does that make me a terrible mother?” She giggled. She’d already had two glasses of wine, and she always got tipsy after two.

  “I don’t either. I thought I would, but I feel good.” I scanned the restaurant, eyeing all the other couples in the room—some of them having a great time, others obviously arguing but trying to keep it together since they were in public. “It feels normal, like any other couple with kids taking time to be alone together. I’m so glad things are finally settling down. That was the craziest month of my life.”

  Lillian and my mom had been taking turns sleeping with Janie. Lillian had suggested it the first night they’d been here, and I’d told her it wouldn’t work because Janie only slept if I was in the room. Most nights we all slept together like we were having a big sleepover, but nobody got much sleep. I wasn’t sure which was worse—being woken up by Janie’s bloodcurdling screams or her staring down silently while we slept, the anger radiating off her. I was convinced she was sleepwalking, but Hannah was sure she was awake. Rhonda said it didn’t matter either way because it was common in people who had been diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder.

  Lillian had begged me to let her try, and I hadn’t argued since stubbornness ran in their family. I’d been shocked when Janie hadn’t fought it and had gone to sleep easily. My mom had done it again the following night and had been just as successful. A night of sleep had made me feel like a new man.

  “I had no idea it was going to be this hard. It’s not like people didn’t warn us, but I guess you really don’t know what it’s like to be a parent until you become one, huh?” Hannah smiled at me. It was nice to see her relaxed, the lines on her forehead smooth. “It’s getting a little better, right?”

  I grabbed her hand from across the table. “It’s only going to keep getting better.”

  Just yesterday I’d prevented a meltdown by getting Janie to use her words to tell me what she needed instead of going berserk. This morning she’d done it with Hannah without even being prompted. The gains were small, but they were happening. All her therapists gave positive progress reports.

  “I love taking her outside. It’s like Christmas for her every day. I wish we would’ve known how hard it would be for her to be at home.”

  She was a different girl when we left the house. She transformed into a sweet, loving child and took in everything around her with amazement. She loved interacting with other people and experiencing new things, always full of questions. Strangers commented on how well behaved and adorable she was.

  I flagged down our server for the check, not wanting to stay out too late since I knew my mom would
n’t go to sleep until we were home. “Are you sure you’re okay with me going back to work on Monday?”

  Our time together had gone by so quickly. Hannah and I had taken an additional month of family leave so we could all be together as a family. Hannah would continue her maternity leave for another two months while I went back to work. We had discussed having me take the same amount of time, but in the end, we’d decided it’d be best for the two of them to have that time alone together so they could bond.

  “I wish you’d quit asking me that. We’re going to be fine,” she said.

  She was secretly excited for me to go back, although she’d never admit it. Not even to herself. Janie always came to me first for everything, no matter what. With me gone, it’d force her to go to Hannah for things. Hannah had a list of things they were going to do together and tasks she was going to teach Janie, starting with her ABCs.

  I reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly. “I really love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  NINETEEN

  HANNAH BAUER

  I texted Christopher again. I was at my wits’ end, and he still hadn’t responded to me.

  Janie won’t talk to me.

  Christopher had left for his first day back at work two hours ago, and so far, Janie hadn’t spoken to me once. She was sitting at the coffee table in the living room coloring in one of her favorite coloring books, and anytime I tried to talk to or interact with her, she ignored me like she was deaf.

  “Do you want any help, Janie?” I asked, coming up beside her.

  Nothing.

  Just like every other time I’d tried to talk to her. She’d been fine at breakfast, chattering away with us about the upcoming day as she’d nibbled on her strawberries while Christopher had eaten his oatmeal and I’d drunk my second cup of coffee. He’d kissed both of us before leaving. I’d expected her to cry or go into one of her screaming fits. I hadn’t expected this.

  My phone buzzed.

  Take her outside. Go to the park.

  That was Christopher’s solution to everything with Janie—take her outside in the world. She loved the park, but would I be rewarding her behavior by letting her do something she enjoyed? At what point did we stop giving in to her and start holding her accountable? I didn’t want her to think she could just ignore me like it was nothing and still get to go about her day like everything was fine, but I also didn’t want to sit in the house all day long with her stonewalling me at every turn. The day was already dragging, and it was only ten thirty. One day of giving in to her couldn’t hurt.

  “Do you want to go to the park?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “Why don’t you go put your shoes on?”

  She kept scribbling furiously on her paper with a red crayon.

  “Janie, I asked you to put your shoes on. I understand that you’re not talking to me this morning, but you still have to do what I ask you to do.” It was the sternest voice I’d ever used with her, but I was at a loss.

  I waited for a few minutes that felt like ten to see if she’d get up and go put on her pink tennis shoes in front of the door. They had Velcro straps, so she could do them by herself, and they were the only shoes we’d been able to get her to wear so far.

  I put my hands on my hips. “I asked you to do something. If you want to go to the park, then you have to put your shoes on.”

  She turned her back so she faced away from me.

  Irritation flanked me. I walked into the kitchen to settle myself down. She was only a child and dealing with this in the only way she knew how. I was the adult. I had to be patient and give her the space to process the transition. I took a few deep breaths before walking to the entryway and getting her shoes.

  “I’m doing this for you today because I understand you’re having a hard time because Christopher went to work, and I want to help you through it. It seems like you’re upset, and I want you to know that everything is going to be okay.” I talked while I slid the shoes onto her feet. “He is going to be home as soon as he is done seeing all his patients, and then we can all be together again.”

  There was a neighborhood park only six blocks from the house, so it made for an easy walk. Gene had started taking her there during their last visit. I took her hand like I always did when we walked, and she jerked it away. I reminded myself to stay calm. I pointed out birds and flowers as we went along, but she refused to look in the direction I pointed.

  Her face lit up when she spotted the park. It was packed with parents and kids. It always was, no matter the time of day, because it was as practical as it was pretty. The play space was huge, filled with tunnels, different slides, and jungle gyms. There were plastic rocks and walls to climb. Giant yellow canopies shaded the entire space, keeping the kids cool while they played. It was lined with picnic tables and benches so that the parents could watch from the sidelines, and it was completely enclosed, so you could relax without feeling like if you let your guard down, your kid would bolt out of the park.

  Janie took off for the playground immediately. I walked up slowly, scanning to see if I recognized any of the moms. I was just starting to get to know the mom crowd and finding it much harder to fit in than I had thought it’d be. Most of them were stay-at-home moms, and they’d met when their children were babies. They already knew everything about each other and their kids. Breaking into the group with a six-year-old was tough.

  I waved to three of them that I recognized, and they motioned me over.

  “How are you?” Greta asked. She was always dressed in yoga pants, like she’d just come from a class, and today wasn’t any different.

  “I’m good,” I said. All eyes were on me. They always stopped what they were doing whenever I came on the scene. My dad had hit it off with the moms at the park much better than me, but it wasn’t that surprising. He was one of the most charismatic people I knew, and people were always drawn to him.

  “How’s Janie?” Greta’s best friend, Sydney, asked. The two of them had been best friends since middle school and did everything together, including having their children as close together as possible. Janie was playing in the sandbox with Sydney’s daughter, Violet, while Greta’s daughter, Brynn, marched around barking orders at them.

  “Things are great,” I said. We hadn’t disclosed Janie’s background and planned on keeping her identity a secret for as long as possible, at least until they’d made an arrest in Becky’s murder, but they weren’t any closer to an arrest than they’d been when she’d been admitted to the hospital. The women were nice enough not to push for more details, but they always looked slightly annoyed that I didn’t say more about Janie, especially when they were constantly talking about their kids.

  Janie bounced up to the bench and tapped the other mom, Meredith, on her arm. Meredith had one hand on her stroller, constantly moving it back and forth to keep her baby asleep inside it, and the other gripped her travel coffee mug.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said, bending down to kiss Janie on the top of her head, never missing a beat in her stroller rhythm.

  “Hiya!” Janie said. “Where’s your puppy?”

  “He’s not here today. I’m sorry. Maybe next time.” She smiled down at Janie, who smiled back.

  “That’s okay. Next time,” Janie said. “Bye-bye!” She waved at Meredith and scampered off, calling out to Violet and Brynn to join her on the swings.

  My blood boiled. I could barely contain my anger. I’d expected her to talk to the other kids, but I had never thought she’d talk to the other women. She’d spoken to Meredith like it was nothing. She ran up and down the equipment, laughing and squealing, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She never once looked back at me. I could’ve left, and she wouldn’t have noticed I was gone.

  I didn’t speak to Janie or interact with her the rest of the time we were at the park. I was afraid she’d ignore me, and I’d be humiliated in front of all the other mothers.

  I tried again on our walk home, h
oping she was over it. “That sure was a lot of fun, huh?” I asked, trying to keep the neediness out of my voice.

  Silence.

  “Do you want to come back tomorrow?”

  More silence.

  I dropped her hand and bit back tears. I left her alone for the rest of the afternoon, and she was perfectly content being by herself. She heard the door open when Christopher returned and rushed out of her room.

  “Dr. Chris!” she squealed, throwing herself at him.

  He wrapped himself around her, laughing and kissing the top of her head. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

  She pulled his head down and whispered something into his ear. His eyes lit up, and he laughed again.

  “I have to get groceries,” I said, but neither of them acted like they’d heard me. I grabbed my keys and headed to my car. I couldn’t stand another minute of it.

  “What did I ever do to her? Seriously, what did I do?” I asked Christopher as we brushed our teeth in the bathroom that night. I was still angry. And hurt, but it was easier to focus on my anger.

  “You didn’t do anything. She’s just adjusting to me going back to work,” he said as he flossed his teeth like it wasn’t a big deal. “She’ll be fine in a few more days.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You don’t get it. It has nothing to do with adjusting. She’s punishing me.”

  He burst out laughing. “What is she punishing you for?”

  I smacked him on the arm. “Stop laughing at me. It’s not funny. I told you that she’s mad about being left here with me while you go to work. She’s ignoring me to be mean.”

  He finally stopped what he was doing and turned to look at me. “Do you hear yourself? Being mean? She doesn’t even know how to be mean.”

  “Are you kidding?” I raised my hands in exasperation. “She knows how to be mean, and she knows exactly what she’s doing.”

  He shook his head, refusing to believe it. I stormed into the bedroom. I didn’t care what he thought—I was right on this one. She’d been awful to me on purpose today.