Chapter 6
Buenas Noches
The
tension in the air is palpable. Dinner
is a mostly silent affair tonight. Isaiah and Alysa have clearly been texting
each other, and the two of them are exchanging looks periodically, but I guess
no one plans to verbalize anything while I’m listening. I really do want –no need
–to know what they are talking about, but it’s not like I can snatch the phone
out of Isaiah’s hand and take a peek. I sigh. I’m always so close to the end of
this game but always out of moves.
Isaiah
is still feeding me my food, and it’s pretty good. We’re having spaghetti, corn
and meat. They have a bib on me tonight, I guess it’s because I already had a
bath. While the bib does bug me, I’d rather not have another weird bath with
either of them, so I keep my mouth shut about it. I kick my legs in the chair
while I wait for Isaiah to finish his current text.
When I
finally finish my plate, Isaiah wipes my face with a wet paper towel. He walks
me to the kid pen and grabs a tablet along the way. He puts me in the pen and
starts a show on the tablet. When he hands it to me, I take it, very interested
to see what he put on.
Of
course, it’s one of those kiddie shows. I know I have to at least pretend to
watch the show because they’re never going to talk out loud if I’m looking in
their direction. I can feel their stares at me, and I keep my head down on the
tablet.
Finally,
my efforts seem to pay off, “I’m scared, Isaiah,” Alysa whispers, her voice
cracking between words, “What if this only gets worse?”
“I
know,” Isaiah says, and he sounds emotional too. “I reached out to one of my
friends who’s a child psychiatrist, this is what he said. Here.”
They
don’t say anything else for a while. I guess he’s showing her something on his
phone. I get bored waiting while they do that and look at the show on the
tablet just to pass the time. It’s one of those animated cartoons, and I’m at a
part where they are doing a nursery song.
It’s
colorful, well animated and just all-around impressive. The scenes are changing
really fast, and every time I think I’m going to stop watching it, another
scene starts, and I am intrigued, so I watch another and another. The music is
very catchy, uplifting and happy while the characters bounce around from one
activity to the next. There are so many shapes and objects and colors, and the
sounds get louder and louder. I feel like I’m inside the show, and I’m having
fun too.
I don’t
know how long I’m sitting there fully absorbed in the show. I startle when I
feel Isaiah rub my back. I take my eyes off of the show for a second and
quickly look back. The episode isn’t over, so I don’t want to miss anything.
This is like the most entertaining kid show I’ve ever seen in my life. Isaiah
says something, but I barely hear him over the chattering of the characters.
That is
until Isaiah tugs the tablet out of my grasp and stands up with it way out of
my reach.
“No! Me!
Me! Me!” I stand up and shout. It’s mine, my show! How dare he!
“I’m
sorry Jason, it’s time to get ready for bed. I bet you had so much fun watching
the show, but now it’s time for bed,” he ruffles my hair and puts the tablet on
a shelf. “Come on let’s get ready for bed.”
“No!” I
shout. I want to watch the show. It’s the one good thing that’s happened to me
through all of this, and I’m not going to let him take it away. I don’t care if
it’s bedtime. I’m going to watch this show.
Alysa
comes over and tries talking me down. “It’s bedtime Jason, you can watch a show
tomorrow too.”
“No!” I
scream, spit spewing in the air. I’m the kind of mad where I see red, and I
don’t care who or what is in my way. I am going to get that tablet back. “No!”
I pull at the gate of the pen and use the one word that I know works, “No!”
Alysa lifts
me out and when she starts leading me in the opposite direction of the tablet,
“It’s okay, Jason. Mommy and Daddy will let you watch tomorrow.”
I feel
the anger rippling through my body. I tug my hand out of her grasp and turn
around for the tablet. She catches my hand again before I can get far. I refuse
to let her drag me upstairs. I tug my hand as hard as I could, but before I
could get free, she adds a second hand to tighten her grip on me. When I tug
again, she just holds her ground and lets me twist and turn. I know what she’s
doing. It’s the same thing every time where she just lets me tire myself out so
I can’t fight back anymore. I’m out of moves and my adrenaline is surging
looking for a way out, and before I even think about what I’m doing, I sink my teeth
into her wrist.
“Ow,
Jason!” Alysa screams and let go of me completely. I immediately run towards
the tablet. I pick it up and scan the room to see where I am going to hide with
it. I know punishment is coming, so I had better enjoy the freedom I still have
while I can.
“Jason!”
Isaiah’s voice thunders and I stop midstride and turn around in fear, “Did you
just bite your Mommy?”
The tone
of his voice makes me feel small. I drop the tablet, and I can barely hear it
hit the ground over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. Now I’m really
out of moves. Isaiah steps toward me. He says something but it’s almost like
I’m having an out of body experience and I can’t figure out what he’s saying. I
just know that I feel threatened, and I’m so far gone, all I have left is to
rely on my instincts.
My fight
or flight kicks in. I know I can’t outrun him, so I gear myself up to fight,
but before I even have the opportunity to bite him too, he hoists me under his
right arm and holds me by my waist.
‘That.
Is. Enough,” he says. We are going to have a chat about your behavior, and then
you’re going to bed.”
I know I
did something really bad, and I don’t want to find out how horrible the
punishment is going to be. One thing is for sure: I don’t want to find out what
this talk is going to be like. No!” I shout while he carries me upstairs.
I do my
best to resist, but I get no purchase at all. Kicking, punching, wiggling,
spitting–all of it–gets no response from Isaiah on the trip upstairs. I’m
vertical again when he puts me in the crib. I don’t waste any time, and I stand
up immediately to scream at him, “No! Owt Owt!”
Isaiah
pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment. He takes a deep breath. “Daddy
will come back to talk to you once I check on Mommy to make sure she’s okay.
Your behavior was very naughty, and Daddy is very disappointed in you.”
I know
I’m out of control, but I can’t stop it. I’m an adult. I get to make my own
choices. I get to watch TV when I want and how I want, and Isaiah doesn’t get
to tell me what to do. I kick my foot again the padded sides of the crib. I
slam my fists against the mattress and throw my legs out at any surface in my
way. I scream and shout what would be swear words as loud as I can.
I go on
and on until the red fades, and when I finally come back down, I pant to catch
my breath. My throat hurts and I just feel so empty and crappy on the inside.
With the anger gone, it is now the guilt and remorse for what I did at the
front and center of my mind. I didn’t want to bite Alysa. I was just so caught
up in my resentment and powerlessness.
I can’t
even explain myself. So, now just like everyone else in my whole life, they
think I’m just a bad, wild child, and I’m not. I just can’t control it. My
anger takes on a life of my own, and nothing I’ve ever done is enough to stop
it once it starts. I hate that the truth is that my anger scares me too. I
never know what I’m going to do–how far I’m going to go.
When I
conjure a mental image of Alysa tending to a bleeding wrist because of what I
did, I feel sick. Isaiah is gone so long I bet she’s hurt so bad. Oh god. What
did I do? I bury my face in my arms, and the world around me feels like it’s
falling apart.
When Isaiah
walks in the nursery again, I peer over the side of the crib. “I sowee,” I say
blinking through falling tears. I sob. “I sowee.”
“Oh,
Jason,” Isaiah scoops me up into his arms. “It’s okay. Mommy and Daddy know you
didn’t mean it.”
His
reassurance just makes me cry harder. Even when I’m bad, they still care about
me. I can’t believe it. I don’t understand it, and something about it just
unleashes a torrent of emotion from within me. Years and years of being
misunderstood and alone are transformed into deep, pained sobs.
“It’s
okay,” Isaiah rocks me. “Shhh, it’s okay.”
I don’t
know how long I cried in his arms, but at some point, he switched to bouncing
me and pacing back and forth in the room. It does soothe me some, and I rest my
head on his shoulder, whimpering and sniffling, feeling as small as I look.
Isaiah
grabs a tissue box from a shelf, takes a seat on the couch and sits me on his
lap. He wipes my tears and cleans the snot from my nose. “Blow,” he tells me,
and I do. It’s gross, but I do feel a lot better.
When I
look at Isaiah’s face, he seems kind of sad too, and I don’t know why since I’m
the one who really messed up. Even though I’ve known him for many years in many
different capacities, sometimes this guy is still a bit of a mystery to me.
Isaiah
clears his throat. “Even though you were very naughty earlier,” he begins, and
I tear up at the disappointment in his voice, “Daddy knows you were just so mad,
and your emotions were so big.”
I look
down in shame, but he ruffles my hair, and tilts my chin up with his thumb. “Daddy
knows you’re very sorry, but Mommy needs to know that too, okay?”
I nod my
head.
“Alright,
let’s see Mommy and get you a nice, warm bottle before bed,” he lifts me back
into his arms. I keep my head resting on his shoulder while he walks through
the hallways and down the stairs.
Alysa is
downstairs with her reading glasses on again sitting at the dining table. When
she notices us, she snaps it shut, I see the title of the book for a moment
before she sets it down. It’s something about parenting a child with intense
emotions.
Great. I
guess I’m in for some weird book-based routines. But it’s not like I don’t
deserve it for earlier. I take a deep breath and do what I know I’m supposed to
and should do.
“Mommy,
I sowie,” I say as sincerely as I can. I decided to pile on the cute factor with
it too since I really am sorry for what I did. I figure she deserves at least
that concession on my end.
“Aw
Jason,” her face lights up. She stands and takes me from Isaiah’s arms. “Mommy
is so proud of you for apologizing.”
“Look,”
she says. “Mommy is feeling all better,” she shows me her hand and I don’t see
any bleeding or anything. I didn’t break skin. I feel like a weight is lifted off
my shoulders and I breathe a sigh of relief. I am so glad it isn’t as bad as I thought.
She
pulls me back to look me in the eyes, the concern all too evident in hers. “I heard
you cry so much earlier. Is my little boy feeling better now?”
“Yesth,”
I say my cheeks reddening a tad in embarrassment. Somehow, I didn’t think I was
that loud.
“Good,”
she smiles. “Well, it’s bedtime now. We have a busy day tomorrow, so let’s make
sure you’re all rested. She turns around, “Oh, look Daddy has a bottle for you.”
“Guess
what,” she holds me close and whispers. “Tomorrow, we are going to hang out
with some of Mommy’s friends we haven’t seen in a while.”
I look up
at her surprised and curious, and I think about how long this dream has been
going on. I feel nervous about how things are going, but I just shake it off
and look between Alysa and Isaiah.
“Okay,”
she kisses me on the forehead and hands me to Isaiah. “I’m going to bed too. Sleep
tight, Jason.”
She
heads upstairs and Isaiah takes me with him to get a bib from a drawer. We go
back to the kiddie room, and he sits me on the couch, puts the bib on me and hands
me a bottle. I take it, but the idea of drinking through a nipple feels so odd
and foreign. While he gets the room ready for me to go to bed, I just sit there
awkwardly with it in my hands. I squeeze the tip with my finger, thinking about
how weird it is that kids can drink so much liquid out of such a tiny hole.
I guess Isaiah
notices me playing with the bottle, so he tilts me back, puts the nipple in my
mouth and squeezes the bottle enough for some of the milk to come through. Somehow,
that small amount in my mouth triggers some animalistic instinct in me. Just
like that, drinking out of a bottle feels righter than anything else. Why do
people ever stop drinking out of bottles? The exertion and sensation are both
so soothing and fulfilling. With every breath between sips, I feel more and
more relaxed, and pretty soon my eyes are drooping.
I only
wake back up for a moment when Isaiah takes the bottle from me and lifts me
into his arms. But by the time that he lays me down again to change my diaper,
I’m off far away in the world of dreams.
