Part 2 (2/2)
”What can you see through that window?”
”Gra.s.s. And two driveways, ours and hers.”
”Whose driveway?” Freddy asked.
”I don't know.” As Sister Mary Katherine delivered her answer, her body s.h.i.+fted uneasily in her chair. She squirmed in her seat like a little kid who has waited far too long to head for a rest room.
”Can you tell me your neighbor's name?” Fred asked.
”No. I can't talk about her at all.” Slumping in the chair, Sister Mary Katherine seemed close to tears. ”Don't you understand?” she pleaded. ”I'm not allowed to talk about her. Ever. If I do, something bad will happen. Someone will hurt me.”
I jotted down: Who's going to hurt her?
Fred was following the same track. ”Who will hurt you, Bonnie Jean? Your father?”
”No, not my father!” she said forcefully.
Clearly the current line of questioning was so upsetting that Fred backed away from it for a time. ”Tell me about your house,” he suggested.
”It's an apartment in a bas.e.m.e.nt. It's cold here even when the sun is s.h.i.+ning.”
”Who lives upstairs?”
”A lady who's old and sick. Mama looks after her, and she lets us stay here.”
”Do you know the lady's name?”
”No, but I know she doesn't like kids. That's why I have to stay inside when Mama and Daddy are gone. So I don't bother her. She might make us move out.”
”Tell me about her house,” Fred said.
”It's old and big and it's made out of brick.”
”So it's a nice house, then?”
”I guess.”
”And are there other children living nearby?”
”I don't know.”
So she's not in school yet. If she were, she'd know the other kids in the neighborhood.
”Your mama looks after the lady upstairs. What does your daddy do?”
”He works.”
”What does he do?”
”I dunno.”
”Does he dress up when he goes to work?”
”No. And he comes home all dirty. He has to shower before we can eat dinner.”
”Let's go back to the window for a moment. What time of day is it?”
”Afternoon, I think.”
”And if you could go outside, what would you do?”
”Watch ants or play jacks or hopscotch or hide in my secret hiding place.”
”Where's that?”
”Around behind the shed.”
”Who do you play jacks with?”
In answer, Mary Katherine twisted her hands and shook her head.
”The person you can't talk about?”
Mary Katherine nodded.
We're talking about a playmate then, I scribble into my notebook. But she just said she didn't know any other children.
”How old is this person you play jacks with?” Fred asked. ”About the same age as you?”
Sister Mary Katherine shook her head.
”Older or younger?” Fred asked.
”Older.”
”How much older?” Fred persisted.
I swear, the guy could have been a cop. Right down the line, he was asking the same questions I would have asked had I been there.
Mary Katherine shrugged. ”I dunno.”
There was a long silence after that, as though Fred himself wasn't quite sure where to turn next. Finally he said, ”Bonnie Jean, do you ever play pretend?”
”Sometimes.”
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