My humble abode, pexels-pixabay
Mary looked up at us, stopped the tears and started laughing at such an out of place statement. Jane and I sat down with a sigh, greatly relieved. Mary was sipping her wine while Jane was fairly quaffing hers, pouring herself a second glass in a few minutes. I decided to join in, getting myself a glass, a glass of water for Scout and the second open wine bottle from the counter. Mary was still clutching Scout and wouldn’t let go, though now she was turned around and facing us in her mother’s lap, looking at all of us and enjoying the scene.
“Scout, I’m so proud of you, so proud.” Mary exclaimed. “But how did you get her to do that Roland? Experts have been trying their best for years to no avail, and you step in and manage it in an afternoon.”
I didn’t want to delve into the matter of the wafer quite yet or the fact that I unilaterally dosed her. So I put the explanation off, saying I had a way with kids and must have just gotten lucky. But I silently told myself that I had to reveal the truth soon. It was my responsibility as a human being. I only needed a little time to couch it in the proper terms, so as not to shock them.
But this brought up another issue. I had to keep them here, at least for the night, first, to see how Scout reacted to the chip and see if she regained more speech, and then to redeem myself for this rash act with all its possible outcomes, good or bad. One good thing, I could help them out of their financial plight so that Scout could perhaps recover in a comfortable setting.
My complicated, computerized scheming brain was racing away, almost in a panic. I put a halt to it and saw a limitation to this digitally enhanced brain, over-thinking the matter. The solution was simple. ‘Was that the human part of me, seeing the obvious?’
We were sitting there at my kitchen table, drinking a rare vintage of wine, all sandy from the beach with only our dirty clothes thrown over our bathing suits for the ride home.
“I have an idea” I said. “I have a large, spare bedroom upstairs with its private bath and shower. Why don’t you three wash up in there? There are fresh towels and bathrobes on the door. I’ll heat a dinner from the fridge and we can all enjoy it and drink more wine. You can spend the night here. It’s already late, and we’re all a little bit drunk, so I don’t think it’s safe for you two to drive home.”
“I’m up for that.” Jane said loudly, half slamming her glass on the table, almost like an exclamation mark. She could be quite the raw pragmatist, I thought to myself, when she wanted to be.
“Thank you for your hospitality, and I think Jane is right, we should accept.”
I noticed for the first time that Mary had a southern charm and lilt in her voice when she wanted it, indicative of a privileged upbringing. She, like Scout, had jet black hair, shorter bangs but slightly longer hair, down below the nape of her neck. And she had an obvious self-conscious beauty and an indescribable type of female finesse in the way she poised her elbow on the edge of a chair or a table, the way she held up her glass on the tips of her fingers or crooked her neck to position her face elegantly when she addressed you.
She might not have the intellect that Jane had, but charm goes a long way in making up for that. Jane was sharp as a tack in critical thinking but blunt in whatever she spoke, and I wondered, with all the help from my newly acquired powers of computation, what a miracle of human interface it was that brought such two together.
I showed them upstairs. Mary was in visible awe of the rounded and carpeted staircase. She was holding Scout’s hand, leading her up the steps like some antebellum southern belle, pointing out the high, embossed ceilings with their beautiful medallions above the chandeliers. Scout was looking up at the sparkling lights and thinking what a nice place this was. I took them to their suite, the guest bedroom with its poster bed with white, translucent sashes, the marble tiled bathroom and its large Roman shower with a curved bench that could seat four, the gold-handled sinks, the mirrored, stone counter which ran the length of the room, which Mary declared was larger than their living room. I left them and took a quick shower in my bathroom, redressed, then went down to the kitchen to heat another one of Naomi’s mother’s casseroles.
Our dinner was a long and leisurely one. Scout sat quietly at the side of the table beside her mother, draped in a much too big bathrobe, and ate most of the portion we served her, along with a salad, looking at each piece on her fork carefully, then consuming it. Mary was very observant of this throughout the meal. I could see she was also pensive, as if unable to make up her mind on something. I guessed it all hinged on the words Scout had spoken. Mary was dying to try the experiment again.
On the other hand, she didn’t want the bright glow of hope she was feeling to be dashed to pieces if it failed. So she watched and waited, anxiously, with a mother’s patience. The fact that Scout was behaving so well, sitting straight and eating as properly as any good little girl, cheered Mary to no end. She would give it time, she thought, and speech would come.
Jane and I sat at the opposite end talking away on all sorts of topics, finishing off the third bottle of wine. Jane asked me where I found such rarities. “In the cellar” I replied curtly. But I put such questions off for now by promising them a full tour of the house in the morning. We had dessert, a cherry pie, and I saw that Scout was getting sleepy so I asked if I could tell her a bedtime story on a long couch in the entryway of the house, just outside the kitchen door. They happily agreed, on the condition that they clean up the dishes while I told tales.
So Scout and I settled down there and I began. I had no practice in this art, but I remembered vividly one tale from Hans Christian Andersen which my father had read to me many times when I was about five. It was my favorite. It was the story of ‘Simple Simon.’
As I began to tell Scout the story I could see that she, sitting next to me on the couch, was listening intently to every word I uttered, as if deep in thought or trying hard to decipher a new, complex thing. I embroidered it a bit, as it was such a short one, describing Simon and his two brother’s appearances, his funny clothes and manners and laugh, with another digression when I got to the princess, upon her beauty and lilting voice and royal dress. When I finished, Scout seemed happy, and she smiled up at me. I don’t know if she caught the meaning of the tale or was just appreciative of the gesture of my gentle tone talking to her. As I looked up, I noticed Jane and Mary standing in the doorway together with a similar look. They might have been standing there through most of the story without me being aware of it, but that didn’t matter. I was glad we were all happy and a family of sorts.
Mary spoke up: “Roland I can’t believe how much she’s taken to you. This is the first time she’s listened through a whole fairy tale. When we try to read to her at bedtime she always pushes the book away after a few pages and turns her head.”
“This has been a remarkable day for “firsts” I said, “so let’s call it a day. I’m going to retire to my bedroom now, but you make yourselves at home. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Mary took Scout into her arms and started up the stairs. Jane kissed me on the cheek goodnight.
“You don’t know how much this means to us, Roland.” She said in a low tone. “You’re our savior. You seem to have changed Scout for the better and this whole day of fun, you don’t know how much we needed it. I can’t thank you enough.”
She clasped me again and kissed me right on the lips.
“Well this isn’t over yet” I replied, “let’s all get some sleep.”
