“Come! Your friend Ruby is waiting. Let’s get home and get ready.”
Ruby was not exactly a friend, but Olivia held out hope. They’d met at the library during story time, and though Olivia had explained Luci’s quietude to the parents during snack time, Ruby’s mother, Helen, was the only one who went out of her way to encourage her daughter to include Luci. She noticed when Luci looked hungrily at a tube of purple glitter across the table. “Ruby, make sure you pass the glitter to Luci,” she’d trilled during craft time, and when Ruby not only did but also told Luci that she liked her drawing, Olivia had wanted to kiss Helen.
From the beginning, playdates had seemed impossible for a child who did not speak. Luci could not express herself for either socialization or her needs. If she was hungry or thirsty, she could not tell the hosting parent. Or if she wanted to pet the dog or ride a bike. When it came to playing, it was heartbreaking for Olivia to watch. The teachers reported that she parallel played at school. When a child was building with Legos on the rug, Luci wouldwatch and then set up her own little spot beside her. But she did not interact. Sharing didn’t happen. Luci might glance at a toy she wished to play with, often in a yearning way. But she could not express it vocally. Worse, when other kids wanted something she had, they might ask her for it. But after getting no response, they would lose patience and often take the toy from Luci, leaving her breathless with hurt feelings. Or they’d give up and seek a playmate who chimed in, who shouted, who sang out loud and asked questions and shrieked with laughter. That child was not Luci. It was soul-destroying for Olivia.
But today, a rare invitation to play was on the calendar. Luci was beside herself. “Did you know she has two cats and a hamster?” she asked her mother, eyes wide. “One of the cat’s names is Herman. I can’t remember the other.” People were always amazed that Luci knew so much about her “friends” when she interacted so little. She can hear! Olivia wanted to cry out. She can see, too! Indeed, Luci was always gleaning information from her classmates. Storing away anecdotal facts that she shared as openly at the dinner table with her mother at night as any other child might. Sarah Pratt was going to Rhode Island for vacation. Dylan Havens snuck his father’s car keys to school and the nanny had to come pick them up because Mr. Havens was late for work and couldn’t find the spare. The teacher, Mrs. Mandler, cried when she read a story about an old dog. Luci knew just as much about her peers and their lives as anyone else in the class, probably more. What she didn’t know was what it was like to have a friend.
“Just pull around the circular drive to the front door,” Helen had said on the phone.
Olivia glanced up at the sweeping contemporary as she got out of her car. Sleek black metal roof, commanding glass walls, a pea gravel drive that looked like it had been hand-raked. Oliviapaused and tucked her hair behind her ears, smoothed her shirt. She smiled at Luci, who was already tugging her toward the front door. “Ready?”
Luci nodded.
Helen and Ruby answered together. “Hello! You found us out here in the woods.” Indeed, everyone in this neck of Connecticut was in the woods.
Helen ushered them into a grand room, minimalist in both design and color. “Your house is lovely,” Olivia told her.
“Thanks! My husband, Merrit, and I moved here from New York when we had Ruby.” Helen gave them a brief tour of the downstairs, which was every bit as pristine and kid-unfriendly as the exterior. Olivia noted the white furniture and area rugs. How did Helen keep it so clean? Though she realized that job was likely not Helen’s. “Ruby, why don’t you take Luci up to your room? Ruby has a Victorian dollhouse she wants to show you!” Helen said, bending to Luci.
Ruby did not exactly look like she cared to show Luci the dollhouse, but Olivia appreciated Helen’s effort.
“Luci would love that, wouldn’t you, honey?”
The two girls glanced uncertainly at each other and to Olivia’s relief headed upstairs.
“So how do you like Washington?” They settled in the living room on the white couches, and Olivia tried to relax.
“It’s been great,” Olivia said. “The countryside is so lush, and we love all the lakes in the region: Candlewood, Waramaug, Lillinonah. I grew up in the city, but this is where I want to raise my child.”
Helen nodded appreciatively. “When we first moved here I remember looking out the patio door at night and all I could see was darkness. No cars, no lights. Not a single house in sight.Just when I stepped outside I heard a coyote howl. I raced inside, slammed the door, and asked my husband what the hell we were thinking. Now I can’t imagine going back.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. She’d not yet heard the coyotes at night, but Ben and Marge had mentioned them.
“So, what’s it like living with Ben Rothschild? His work is amazing.”
“Well, I don’t exactly livewithBen and Marge. Luci and I have a cottage on the property. But he’s wonderful to work for. Very kind. Down to earth.”
“Did I hear from one of the other moms that you’re a sculptor, too?”
Helen wanted to know all about Olivia’s own work, and what medium she worked in. It was refreshing, being able to sit down with another woman and talk. Not about speech therapies or objectives. Not about Luci’s condition. But ordinary things, like her move to Connecticut and her work as a budding artist. Olivia settled back into the couch, her thoughts less interrupted by every pitter-patter or sound from overhead. The girls were fine. She could relax.
“You know, I have a friend who runs a gallery in Washington Depot. She’s always on the lookout for fresh talent. I should put the two of you in touch.”
Olivia leaned forward. Granted, it was perhaps friendly small talk. But she was touched by the thoughtfulness. “Really? That’s so nice of you. You haven’t even seen my work.”
Helen stood. “Then you’ll have to invite me over and show me.” She smiled. “Next playdate at your place?”
Next time.It was something Olivia rarely heard as a mother of a child with special needs. She stood and followed Helen out of the kitchen, grateful that she was able to brush away before Helensaw the stray tear that was threatening to spill down her cheek. “How do you like your tea?”
Olivia was about to answer. About to say, “Cream, no sugar.” About to suggest they get together again for a playdate at her place on Saturday, when there was an alarmed shriek from upstairs.
Both women pivoted toward the staircase. “Ruby?” Helen called. She glanced back at Olivia reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
But Ruby screamed again.
By the time they’d run upstairs, Ruby was already standing outside her bedroom door in the hall, her hands balled in fists. “She did it!” Ruby cried.
“Did what?” Helen rushed into the room, Olivia on her heels.
