Part 7 (2/2)

They roared off.

I crouched down, took Noah in my arms, inspecting the cuts on his hand. Bright blobs of blood appeared on his skin.

”Ma!” he sobbed, looking confused and bewildered at this fresh rejection.

The word was now a long moan filled with agony.

”Maaaaaaaaaaa!”

”Hush, baby,” I said, holding him.

He put his face against my chest and cried.

”Maaaaa?”

The sound became a question, a cry of astonishment, confusion.

”It's okay, baby,” I said, stroking his hair.

”Aaaaahhhhh,” he sobbed, opening his mouth wide, groaning. ”Aaaahhhhh!”

”Hush, sweetie,” I said.

Mr. and Mrs. Warren got into their SUV and drove slowly away.

The female prison guard stood at the gate, watching us.

I got Noah to his feet and we walked in her direction.

”Could we use your bathroom?” I asked.

She looked at Noah's scuffed-up hand, the snot dripping from his nose.

”I'll get a first-aid kit,” she said, leading us inside.

11) Why, Daddy?

THAT EVENING EVENING, we had a quiet dinner of pizza and salad, Noah's favorites. I had even bought c.o.ke to go with it, though the Cantrell boys were not soda drinkers if only because we couldn't afford to waste money on food-like products that were high in calories but had no nutritional value to speak of. On KUDZU, Elvis sang about cold Kentucky rains. we had a quiet dinner of pizza and salad, Noah's favorites. I had even bought c.o.ke to go with it, though the Cantrell boys were not soda drinkers if only because we couldn't afford to waste money on food-like products that were high in calories but had no nutritional value to speak of. On KUDZU, Elvis sang about cold Kentucky rains.

Dinner did little to cheer Noah, and when pizza fails to bring a smile of pleasure to my little boy's face, I know the weather inside his mind is dark and stormy.

Your food is getting cold, I said.

”Why, Daddy?” he asked plaintively. It came out sounding like ”ai dah eeeeee?” He had spent countless hours in speech cla.s.s just to learn those three sounds, which he could only approximate but not yet master. He spent many evenings with a straw stuck in his tongue trying to figure out the ”S” sound.

I don't know.

”Why?”

I'm sorry.

She thinks I'm dumb.

No, she doesn't.

She thinks I'm dumb because I'm deaf.

That's not true.

She doesn't want to be friends with a stupid dummy.

Don't call yourself that!

I'm a big stupid deaf dummy.

Stop it!

I hate her!

No you don't.

She thinks I'm stupid! She wouldn't hate me if I wasn't deaf. Why do I have to be deaf? It's not fair!

Stop it!

I hate her!

I stopped answering. I only shook my head and offered him a look that showed how much his words upset me.

”Haaahhhhhhhhh,” he moaned, tears springing suddenly to his eyes. He got up from the table and ran to his room. ”Aaaaahhhhh!”

I went after him.

I heard cras.h.i.+ng and banging as he threw things about in typical meth-baby fas.h.i.+on. He had grown out of the worst of it, but there were times when it came back with a vengeance.

When I went into his room, a Rubik's Cube went flying past my head, sailing out the door and landing in the hall behind me. Robinson Crusoe Robinson Crusoe was next, followed by was next, followed by Huckleberry Finn Huckleberry Finn. He went to his dresser, yanked on a drawer, spilled its contents. Then he began to bang his head on the top drawer, slamming his head with such force that I rushed over and grabbed him, afraid he was going to bash his brains in.

He beat at me uselessly with his small fists, wailing and moaning all the while, in complete, unbridled rage, carrying on the way he had as a child in the throes of meth withdrawal. He keened in the back of his throat, which sounded like a ”hmmmmm!” Then he opened his mouth wide and groaned, which came out as an ”ahhhhhh!” His body was like a bag of snakes. I grabbed him up in my arms and sat down on the bed with him, hugging him to my body, waiting for the anger to pa.s.s.

After a couple of minutes of useless struggling, he settled down, burying his head against the crook of my neck, sobbing, his arms wrapped around me tightly as if he were afraid to let go.

”Hush now, baby,” I said into his ear.

I knew he couldn't hear me. But he could feel me. His ear was against my throat, and he could feel the vibrations of my voice in my throat and chest. So I did lots of loving on him. I said ”hush” and ”shush” and ”be quiet” and ”it's all right” and called him ”sweetie” and ”baby” and ”honey” and ”my little man” until he fell silent. Then I laid him down on the bed, got a tissue for his snotty nose, and turned on his fan to get the hot air circulating. I sat with him, watching him as he lay there looking up at the ceiling, avoiding my eyes. When he didn't want to talk, all he had to do was not look at you so he couldn't see you signing or speaking.

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