Chapter Thirty-Six

“Miss Perkins,” Beverly says.

Miss Perkins looks up and sees the aide standing in the doorway to the small library. Miss Perkins is teaching a boy named Calvin his letters. As a baby, Calvin had polio but he is very bright.

“What’s wrong? Is Sam all right?” Miss Perkins asks.

“Yes,” Beverly says. “But Sam’s mother is here. She’s pretty upset.” She explains that Sam and Ralph were left alone together. “But only for a minute, Miss Perkins. I swear it.”

“Can you watch Calvin for me, Beverly?” Miss Perkins asks.

Miss Perkins can hear Mrs. Davis’ angry voice from the front room. As she gets closer, she can smell her sweet perfume. Through the open door of the director’s office, she catches a glimpse of Mrs. Davis’ bright green wool dress.

Miss Perkins is surprised to see Director Bentsen at work on a Sunday. Then, she notices the golf bag on his shoulder. The aging director is wearing white pants and an orange golf sweater. Mrs. Davis blocks the door. It looks as if her former employer has ambushed the director on what he had hoped would be a quick stop to pick up his golf bag.

“I may not have much money,” Mrs. Davis is wagging her finger in his face. “But I used to work for a major law firm. When I tell lawyers how my son is being treated, they will be very upset.”

“We are so sorry, Mrs. Davis,” Director Bentsen tries to reassure her. Mrs. Davis is half the director’s size, but he seems to be cowering. “However, we can’t give any resident special treatment.”

“Special treatment,” Mrs. Davis scoffs. “Sam had no supervision.”

“We do the best that we can with our limited resources,” Director Bentsen answers calmly, but his beefy face is growing red.

“Sam was left alone with a bully. The aide told me that you are frequently absent.” Mrs. Davis says.

Director Bentsen sucks in his flabby stomach. “Madam, I’m here on a Sunday.”

“To collect your golf clubs,” Mrs. Davis responds.

Director Bentsen drops the golf bag. “I resent that.”

“I want to know if you are going to take care of my son!” Mrs. Davis shouts.

“Mannville Institution is a fine place,” Director Bentsen says. “If you don’t like it, I suggest that you look elsewhere for care.”

“That’s just what I’ll do,” Mrs. Davis says before she sweeps out the door.

If Miss Perkins were the type, she would faint from happiness.

“When will your son be leaving?” the director calls after her.

“As soon as I can rent a new apartment,” Mrs. Davis answers. “Until then, I demand that you take care of Sam.”

“We’ll do our best for your son, Mrs. Davis,” Director Bentsen says.

Mrs. Davis shoots the director a steely look, but he is hoisting his bag of clubs onto his shoulder.

“Director Bentsen, no child deserves to be mistreated,” Mrs. Davis calls over her shoulder.

Miss Perkins follows her into the dark hallway. “I’m so happy, Mrs. Davis. This is a great idea that you have to take Sam home,” she says. “I can’t wait to tell the dear boy the good news.”

“I feel terrible. Since you were with him, Miss Perkins, I thought that he was safe,” Mrs. Davis says.

“I tried to tell you, ma’am.” Miss Perkins says.

“I know. You’re always right,” Mrs. Davis snaps. “You think that I’m a rotten person for going to Europe. You just can’t seem to understand that I used to be full of such hope.”

“I didn’t mean that. Why I…” A terrible thought stops Miss Perkins mid-sentence. What if Mrs. Davis doesn’t rehire her? What will she do then?

“I am so angry at that fat director.” Mrs. Davis mutters.

“I’m glad that we’re leaving,” Miss Perkins says. “But where will Sam go to school?”

“Oh, I never told you. Before I left, the new principal of Sam’s school called.” Mrs. Davis says.

“New principal?” Miss Perkins says.

“It seems Principal Cullen was fired for paddling too hard. He paddled some boy and broke his rib,” Mrs. Davis says.

“I’m not surprised,” Miss Perkins says. Then she realizes that once again she has acted the part of the know-it-all.

“Mrs. Ellsworth—that’s the new principal,” Mrs. Davis says. “She wants Sam to return to Stirling.”

“This is wonderful news,” Miss Perkins says, pushing down her frustration that Mrs. Davis didn’t tell her this before. “Why, we can start when he gets back.” She waits, but Mrs. Davis doesn’t say anything. In the silence between them, Miss Perkins thinks about all the times that she’s lectured Mrs. Davis and tried to make her feel guilty. Why would an employer choose to rehire a caretaker who is an almost constant reminder of her faults as a person and as a mother?

Together, they enter the front room and see Sam at the window. He’s asleep again. Ever since his illness, he sleeps a lot.

“Sam.” Mrs. Davis kisses him.

His eyelids barely flutter.

“We’re going home,” Mrs. Davis says.

“Did you hear your mother, Sam?” Miss Perkins says. “Home.”

Sam keeps his eyes squeezed shut.

Miss Perkins crosses her fingers and makes a wish. Let the sweet word ‘home’ include me.