Part 11 (1/2)
Nat doesn't respond.
Sadie motions for us to be silent. We wait a painfully long time and then suddenly Nat offers: ”When I have a Sadie nice day, I get a new b.u.t.ton.”
”Good, Natalie!” Sadie's voice is buoyant.
Nat rubs her hand over one of her sewn-on b.u.t.tons.
”Maybe you'll get more b.u.t.tons,” Annie offers. ”When you come home next weekend, maybe you'll have more.”
”More b.u.t.tons, more,” Natalie repeats. ”I am-”
”I am what?” Sadie pounces on this beginning. Her face is up close to Nat's.
But Natalie lets it drop. Whatever she is right now, she isn't going to say.
”What we're working on here, Moose,” Sadie explains, ”is keeping her engaged and a part of the conversation. We can't let her float off into her own world.”
”She doesn't float off in her own world with me with me,” Theresa says proudly.
Sadie smiles. ”You're the neighbor girl, right?”
Theresa beams. ”Do you want to play b.u.t.ton checkers?” she asks Natalie, laying out her hand-drawn checkerboard.
Natalie touches each b.u.t.ton as Theresa sets it out. When she finishes, she starts again, following the exact same pattern of touching as before. When she's done this time, she nods, almost to herself, and she and Theresa play.
After Natalie has won two games-even with our coaching, Theresa is no match for her-she begins twisting the b.u.t.tons on her dress one way, then the other.
”I am-I am-” Nat's voice is stiff with unnatural pauses. She drags her toe against the carpet and against the carpet again. Her eyes move back and forth in her head like she's trying to make the room spin away.
Sadie looks up from her paperwork. ”I am what?” she asks.
”I am . . . Natalie angry,” Nat says in the same mechanical way.
”She says she's angry,” Theresa explains.
”I am angry,” Sadie corrects.
”I am angry,” Natalie repeats.
”Yes, you surely are,” Sadie says, her eyes keen and clear on Natalie. ”Who are you angry with?”
Natalie's head goes down again. She pinches the skin of her arm. ”Angry at Mommy. Angry at Moose.”
”Me? What did I do?” I ask.
Nat doesn't answer.
”You made her say that,” I tell Sadie before I can stop myself.
”I did nothing of the kind,” Sadie replies.
”Moose,” Annie warns in a low voice.
”Why is she angry?” I ask.
”You just left her in this place,” Annie murmurs.
”Yeah, but it's for her own good,” I shoot back defensively.
”Doesn't mean she won't be angry,” Annie explains.
”Okay, okay,” I say. ”But I don't think she's really mad at me. at me.”
”I sure would be mad at you if you sent me away.” Theresa makes puppy dog eyes.
”You don't understand,” I insist.
”We ask an awful lot of our students here, Moose.” Sadie neatens her stack of paperwork. ”When you've spent your whole life one way, it isn't easy to change. We are proud of how well Natalie is doing with us. She's made a remarkable start.”
”Yeah,” Annie whispers, ”she has.”
”She's trying. I hope you see that. Part of what we're striving for here is to give Natalie a way to control herself. Because once those blades inside her get to spinning, it's just too hard for her to stop herself.”
”Why is she mad at me me though?” I demand. ”Natalie never gets mad at me. Natalie, you never get mad at me,” I tell her. though?” I demand. ”Natalie never gets mad at me. Natalie, you never get mad at me,” I tell her.
”Natalie never gets mad at me,” Natalie echoes.
”Use your words, Natalie. Your Your words, not someone else's. I . . . I . . .” Sadie opens her mouth and enunciates in a way that makes me want to slap her face. words, not someone else's. I . . . I . . .” Sadie opens her mouth and enunciates in a way that makes me want to slap her face.
”Moose . . .” Nat dips her chin down before Sadie can stop her. ”Moose, I missed Moose,” she says in a voice so low I almost don't hear it.
MAE CAPONE IS A LOOKER.
Same day-Sunday, August 18, 1935
We're almost to the field where Scout plays. Actually, we're almost to the field where Scout doesn't play. My plan is to see that Scout isn't there, get some roses, and somehow manage to convince Theresa to give them to Mae without Annie knowing. I try to focus on this and not on Natalie. But Nat's words have crawled inside my head: Moose, I missed Moose. Moose, I missed Moose.
What was so disturbing about seeing her today was I suddenly realized how hard she was trying. I thought she didn't try. But it's much more upsetting to realize she actually does try. She tries very hard for what seems like such a small result.
I force myself to stop thinking about this. Right now I've got to figure out how to keep Al Capone from hunting me down. I can't allow myself to think about anything else.
I'm just turning my plan around in my head when two girls in white gloves and hats start waving wildly to Annie.
”Dolores! Peggy!” Annie hurries to catch up with them. The girls' heads cl.u.s.ter together like three birds with one cracker. They peek up at me and duck down again for more whispering.
”Is it? Is it him?” I hear one ask.