and realized it was only a quarter after seven.
She couldn’t call, Brenda would kill her. After all, no one had died, she thought to herself dryly. I just feel as if I might, she thought.
Well, I can survive without the call. I’ve done most of this alone up till now. Surely I can get through this, too.
She walked down the hallway to Sylvie’s room. It was almost empty of Sylvie’s treasures. Only Pangor, the Siamese cat, and Sylvie herself waited to be readied for the trip. Quietly, Annie opened the curtains and turned to look at her sleeping child. Sylvie’s white-gold curls lay across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. She had the distorted eye structure that had once labeled such children ‘mongoloids,” but in sleep she looked younger and the blankness that was so telling when she was awake was more appropriate.
“Sylvie.” Annie touched her shoulder gently. So far as she knew, Sylvie had only been touched with gentleness and love her whole life, just like Pangor, their cat. And like Pangor, Sylvie stretched, arched, and rolled onto her back. She opened her arms to her mother.
As Annie hugged her, she hoped that Sylvie would always be protected so that she could stay open and loving.
“Hi, Mom-Pom.” Sylvie’s speech was slightly slurred, but easily understandable if anyone tried. Many didn’t.
”Hi, Sylvie.”
“Hi, Pangor.” The cat gave another stretch and rolled onto its side.
Annie gently stroked its soft, soft belly.
“Time to get up, both of you.” Annie sat down at the side of the bed.
“You remember what we do today, don’t you?”
“Go to school,” Sylvie whispered. There was a fear deep in her eyes, one that all of Annie’s talks had not dispelled. “But I will like it, after a while.” She parroted what Annie had told her, over and over.
Annie nodded. ‘And Pangor can come, too, right, Mom-Pom?”
“Absolutely .”
“Good.” Sylvie threw off the blankets and got to her feet. She was awkward in her movements, a little clumsy. And so very, very trusting.
”Get washed up and dressed. Hudson will be here right after breakfast.”’ Sylvie smiled. She liked Hudson, and he liked Sylvie.
Annie watched her daughter as she struggled out of her pink pajamas.
Then she turned and walked back to the kitchen. She felt tears sting her eyes.
The school wasn’t far away, she reminded herself, only one hundred and seventeen miles north in a quiet part of New York State. Annie sighed.
She looked at the boxes and the trunk packed and waiting in the hall.
She remembered when she had gone off, younger than Sylvie was now, to Miss Porter’s School. Like Sylvie, she’d been confused and upset. But unlike Sylvie, she’d had no mother to take her. Her mother had run away. Run away and never come back. She never said good-bye to either Annie or Annie’s father.
And he, bewildered, had sent his only child off to school.
It seemed that she had always fought loneliness. Did other people feel it? she wondered. Did others spend their lives outrunning the loneliness? She had suffered it, but decided she would never let her children twist in its grip, if she could help it.
Well, Sylvan Glades was her insurance against loneliness for Sylvie.
Despite what Aaron said, Sylvan Glades was actually a residential community where Sylvie would be happy to be with other retarded people.
She would have a job, eventually, and friends, and help with all the things she needed help with in daily life. And she wouldn’t be the slightest bit different. She’d be just the same.
It was costly, very costly, but they had planned for long-term care eventually, and Annie had added most of her trust fund to the money that Aaron had put aside. It was more than enough. All that was necessary then had been for Annie to let go, to free her child of the loneliness, and then to wait for the same loneliness to come hunting her.
And now, it was here.
She got the travel box for Pangor and slipped a
She couldn’t call, Brenda would kill her. After all, no one had died, she thought to herself dryly. I just feel as if I might, she thought.
Well, I can survive without the call. I’ve done most of this alone up till now. Surely I can get through this, too.
She walked down the hallway to Sylvie’s room. It was almost empty of Sylvie’s treasures. Only Pangor, the Siamese cat, and Sylvie herself waited to be readied for the trip. Quietly, Annie opened the curtains and turned to look at her sleeping child. Sylvie’s white-gold curls lay across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. She had the distorted eye structure that had once labeled such children ‘mongoloids,” but in sleep she looked younger and the blankness that was so telling when she was awake was more appropriate.
“Sylvie.” Annie touched her shoulder gently. So far as she knew, Sylvie had only been touched with gentleness and love her whole life, just like Pangor, their cat. And like Pangor, Sylvie stretched, arched, and rolled onto her back. She opened her arms to her mother.
As Annie hugged her, she hoped that Sylvie would always be protected so that she could stay open and loving.
“Hi, Mom-Pom.” Sylvie’s speech was slightly slurred, but easily understandable if anyone tried. Many didn’t.
”Hi, Sylvie.”
“Hi, Pangor.” The cat gave another stretch and rolled onto its side.
Annie gently stroked its soft, soft belly.
“Time to get up, both of you.” Annie sat down at the side of the bed.
“You remember what we do today, don’t you?”
“Go to school,” Sylvie whispered. There was a fear deep in her eyes, one that all of Annie’s talks had not dispelled. “But I will like it, after a while.” She parroted what Annie had told her, over and over.
Annie nodded. ‘And Pangor can come, too, right, Mom-Pom?”
“Absolutely .”
“Good.” Sylvie threw off the blankets and got to her feet. She was awkward in her movements, a little clumsy. And so very, very trusting.
”Get washed up and dressed. Hudson will be here right after breakfast.”’ Sylvie smiled. She liked Hudson, and he liked Sylvie.
Annie watched her daughter as she struggled out of her pink pajamas.
Then she turned and walked back to the kitchen. She felt tears sting her eyes.
The school wasn’t far away, she reminded herself, only one hundred and seventeen miles north in a quiet part of New York State. Annie sighed.
She looked at the boxes and the trunk packed and waiting in the hall.
She remembered when she had gone off, younger than Sylvie was now, to Miss Porter’s School. Like Sylvie, she’d been confused and upset. But unlike Sylvie, she’d had no mother to take her. Her mother had run away. Run away and never come back. She never said good-bye to either Annie or Annie’s father.
And he, bewildered, had sent his only child off to school.
It seemed that she had always fought loneliness. Did other people feel it? she wondered. Did others spend their lives outrunning the loneliness? She had suffered it, but decided she would never let her children twist in its grip, if she could help it.
Well, Sylvan Glades was her insurance against loneliness for Sylvie.
Despite what Aaron said, Sylvan Glades was actually a residential community where Sylvie would be happy to be with other retarded people.
She would have a job, eventually, and friends, and help with all the things she needed help with in daily life. And she wouldn’t be the slightest bit different. She’d be just the same.
It was costly, very costly, but they had planned for long-term care eventually, and Annie had added most of her trust fund to the money that Aaron had put aside. It was more than enough. All that was necessary then had been for Annie to let go, to free her child of the loneliness, and then to wait for the same loneliness to come hunting her.
And now, it was here.
She got the travel box for Pangor and slipped a
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