| |
Kali sat in the counsellor's waiting room. No. Psychologist. This wasn't any mere counsellor. This was a psychologist. Dr. Richards had specified the distinction at their first appointment when Kali said she wasn't the first counsellor Theo had seen. The woman looked to her notes. She was the first psychologist. A strong distinction, apparently.
Kali hated this part of the visits the most. Sitting here, separated, wondering. It didn't seem right. Three years old was too young for a child to be separated from his mother like this. Three years old was too young for a child to have mental problems.
Kali twisted the tails of her shirt in her hand. She pulled out her phone. Ten minutes passed. Twenty more until she joined the session. It felt like hours.
Twice a week. Three hundred dollars a week—the same amount that man paid for rent in a month—and right in the middle of the day, preventing her from taking a full shift. The weight that had been pressing in on her chest more and more frequently pushed again. Kali's eyes blurred and her head ached. She rubbed her hands over her face and sat straighter.
She looked at her phone. Eleven minutes.
At least this psychologist realized it wasn't a cognitive issue. Developmentally delayed. Kali hated those words. Hated the people who'd used them. That was not the problem.
Kali thought back to the day Theo's words had stopped. Theo had been like any other two-year-old. Happy. Laughing. Babbling away with new words every day, excited about each one. And then Kali had come home, just days before her University graduation. She'd walked in through her mother's kitchen and tossed her purse on the table. Exhausted.
“Ma?” The TV was on, so they must be home. “Ma?”
Kali poured herself a glass of water and rubbed her neck. It had been a long day in the clinic, and though she was excited to see Theo, she needed a moment to herself. She braced her hands on the counter. Things would be better soon. Easier. She had a job lined up—full hours, decent pay. She'd convince her mother to move into the city so Kali wouldn't have this commute every day. She'd already been dropping hints.
When Kali had moved out at seventeen she'd sworn she'd never come back here, but life didn't always work out the way you wanted. She'd married Derek at the end of her first year, believing his promises. Together, their lives would be different. Better.
“Ma?” Kali pushed herself away from the counter and entered the living room. Her mother's slippered foot peeked out from around the armchair. Kali's throat closed. She approached the chair, uncertain, then stepped around. Theo looked up at her. Eyes wide. Face wet. His body curled against his grandmother's chest. His hand grasped in hers.
Her mother's eyes were open, but she stared at nothing.
The door to the waiting room opened and a woman in a business suit, a hand clasping the wrist of a boy who seemed wild, walked in. Kali had seen the pair before. She nodded at the woman. The woman pursed her lips in what could hardly be called a smile. Kali focused on the two, trying to draw her mind back from the memories. The coroner said her mother had been sitting there for at least four hours. Maybe longer. It was her hand clasping Theo's, not the other way around, so Theo had been sitting all that time—trapped. Four hours in the lap of a grandma who wouldn't look at him, wouldn't speak to him, wouldn't move.
Kali never heard his voice again.
And then, less than a month later, the explosion. The nursery worker—a sweet, dedicated woman who would forever be scarred—said she'd had a breakthrough with Theo. Said he had spoken his first words since the passing: Thank you. And as his mouth closed the blast shook the daycare. Children screamed. Adults ran and hollered, herding the kids as if they were frightened sheep. Fire blazed.
It created a connection in his mind, Dr. Richards said—though Kali came to that conclusion without any help. The moment Theo finally spoke, all hell broke loose.
Dr. Richards pushed her glasses up on her nose. He sees a correlation, she said. Whether he thinks it's his fault, I don't know yet. We need to work to break that connection.
Theo was almost four now, and not a word since. He understood everything. Everything. And, for the most part, Kali understood him. Which is why Dr. Richards insisted the first part of their sessions happen without her presence, why she scolded and chided and made Theo's mutism, at least in part, Kali's fault.
“Ms. Johnson?”
Kali raised her head. The receptionist was smiling at her.
“You may come in.”
Kali slung her bag over her shoulder, hoping today would be the day. The breakthrough.
Theo skipped beside Kali on the way home. One thing about those sessions, the majority of the time Theo was in a good mood when they left. Whether it was the sessions themselves or the excitement of being free from them, Kali didn't know. She didn't ask either. It was as it was.
“What would you like for dinner tonight?”
Theo smiled up at her.
“Any ideas?”
He kept smiling.
“How about pickles and cheese?”
He giggled.
“Or ketchup with apple pie?”
Another giggle.
Kali stopped. She crouched in front of him. “Can you tell Mommy what you'd like to eat? I bet I could make just about anything you wanted.”
Theo stared at her a moment then looked away—as if she'd betrayed him, broken some trust.
“Honey?” His eyes stayed averted. “I just want to know ...” She stopped. “What did she even have at home? Pushing an answer would mean a trip to the grocery store if he wanted something that wasn't in their kitchen. Though it'd be worth it. It'd definitely be worth it to hear him request something. She gave him a little shake and squeeze, but he still looked away. “How about egg salad sandwiches? That sound good?” He turned to her and smiled, nodded. Kali stood and took his hand again. Egg salad sandwiches and then a talk with the landlord. Though it was too early for dinner. She'd talk with the landlord first. Maybe. What if he said no? What if he said, deal with it?
Kali looked to Theo. “How about a stop at the park?” His grin exploded.
As they approached their apartment complex after an hour at the park, Ronald, the landlord, stood in front talking to another tenant. The man seemed upset, agitated. He raised his arms and let them fall, shied away from Ronald's touch when he tried to put a hand on his shoulder, and grumbled something Kali couldn't hear.
Kali took a breath. This was her moment, unless he walked away, unless he turned and left without seeing her. But he would see her. She'd make sure of it. She was doing this today. Her chest tightened. Not from fear of talking to him—she could tell him her mind anytime, tell anyone—but if he refused to do something about the rats, the mould, or put her off again, what then? File a complaint. Go to the city. Sure. But the time. The effort.
Ronald shook his head as the man walked away, then turned. No smile softened his face.
“Kali Johnson.”
“Ronald Peters.”
“I was planning to come up to your apartment today.”
“To fix the mould? Get an exterminator in for the rats?”
“Now, Kali—”
Kali stepped closer. “If that's not what you have to say, I don't want to hear it.”
No grin. No challenge. “You need to hear it.”
“No. You do. Listen,” Kali positioned Theo to the side of her and leaned in toward Ronald, “it's been weeks. Weeks. And I've been more than patient.” She crossed her arms. “But this has gone on long enough. I have a son. A child. And he's breathing in those spores, whatever's in the air.”
“Kali.”
“Rats crawl over our floors at night. Try to get into our food.”
“Kal—”
“I can barely sleep with the sound of their scurrying, with the fear they'll crawl into the bed. Nibble on my son as he—”
“Kali.” His voice was firm this time. Strong.
But she wasn't backing down. “Do you want that on your conscience? Do you want that to be your legacy? Maybe I should go to the media. Slum landlord. That'd make a fancy headline.”
He smirked. Slightly. But it was a smirk.
Kali flared. “You think this is funny? You think it's amusing to make people live like this? I pay my rent on time every month. I was forgiving when those pipes exploded. Accommodating. I could have demanded you put us up in a hotel. But no, I moved to another unit, without complaint.”
“Without complaint?”
“Without complaint to any authorities. And you clearly didn't fix the problem. You just let it fester.” She shook her head. “Do you even have a conscience? Maybe you're the rat. That why it doesn't bother you that they've taken up residence on your property?”
“Do I have a conscience?” The man nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do. And I have a family. And that family needs to come first. Look out for number one, right?”
Kali faltered. “That doesn't—”
“I was going to try to be generous. Give you a month's notice. But seeing as you hate where you're living so much. I'll be kind instead. You have forty-eight hours.”
“What?”
“Forty-eight hours for you to get the f—” the man glanced at Theo. “To get out of my apartment. My building. Forty-eight hours. That's as generous as I'm going to get.”
Kali's arms shook, her fists clenched. The sound of a rushing wind seemed to swirl around her.