Strange Perceptions (17 page)

Babysitter

I couldn’t take my eyes away from the weird wooden masks on the Jellstout’s living room walls. They looked tribal and creepy.

“The restaurant number is on the fridge under the banana magnet,” Mrs. Jellstout said.

I nodded at her, but my eyes kept darting back to the masks.

She noticed where I looked. “Those are my husband’s pride and joy. West African.”

“They’re … interesting,” I said.

“Yes. Jonathan spent six months traveling from Benin to Togo while working on his doctorate. My cell’s on there too. I should get yours.”

She had a pen poised over a small pad of paper. I told her my number. She scribbled it down and stuck the paper in her purse.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I don’t know about this. It’ll be the first time we’ve left him since …” She trailed off. As she spoke she rubbed the gem of her necklace, a large red ruby I think.

“What a beautiful necklace,” I said.

“Oh, it’s not real.” She wrapped her fist around the gemstone, hiding it.

How strange.

“Oh dear,” she said again.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Jack and I will have lots of fun playing games and coloring until bedtime.”

The car honked from the garage. Mr. Jellstout was getting impatient with this long goodbye.

“Come here Jack.” The six year old ran to her side. She squatted down and hugged him. “You be good. Mind Emily.”

“Yes Mommy.”

The car honked again.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Jellstout said. “If I think of something I’ll call.”

I put my hand on Jack’s shoulder, smiled and waited for her to leave.

She started toward the door to the garage, stopped, spun around and waved. “Bye.”

“Bye,” I said and squatted down next to Jack. “Wave bye Jack.”

He raised his hand but instead of waving, opened and closed his little fist several times. “Bye Mommy.”

Mrs. Jellstout smiled at her son, eyes glistening.

The car honked for the third time and Mrs. Jellstout turned and disappeared into the garage. Jack and I waited there until we heard the garage door close.

“I miss my Mommy.”

I suppressed the urge to laugh. “I know sweetie, but think of all the fun we’re going to have.” I got onto all fours. “Now, partner, why don’t you hop onto my back and I’ll give you a ride to the living room.”

He climbed onto my back, his little hands holding my shirt in bunches. I moved across the kitchen floor, whinnying like a horse. Then I blew a huge raspberry. “Excuse me.”

Little Jack giggled. One thing about little kids, you make fart noises and they think you’re a comic genius.

I lumbered to the living room and bucked him off onto the couch. He tried scrambling back onto my back, but I stood. “We’ll play more in a bit, but I have some things to show you. Sit down and I’ll give you a surprise.”

He sat back on the couch, watching me with wide eyes.

I fetched my backpack from the kitchen and sat next to him on the couch. “Now, I wonder what we have in here.” I pulled the zipper back and removed a large crayon box and two coloring books and sat them on the coffee table.

“Dinosaurs,” he said, seeing the coloring books. He reached for them.

“No, not yet. Look at this.” I pulled a sheet of stickers from my backpack. There were cars and rockets and, of course, dinosaurs. All kids love dinosaurs. I held the sheet up for him to see, but when he reached for it I jerked it away. “No, these are mine.”

His grin flipped to a frown.

“But,” I said. “Every time you do something good, or win a game, you get a sticker. Since you’ve been such a good boy sitting on the couch, you can have one now.” I held the sheet out to him. “Point to which one you want.”

He pointed to the center at the large T-Rex.

“Okay, now where do you want to put the sticker?”

He looked confused for a moment and then pointed to his forehead.

“On your face?”

He giggled. “Yeah.”

I shook my head. “That’s not a good place. How about in your room.”

He shot from the couch like he had been fired from a gun, running to his room.

I followed, looking at the clock and sighing. Just past six. Two hours playing with the kid before bedtime. Then, if Jack was like most kids, an hour making him stay in bed until I could watch TV.

In his room he touched his bed’s headboard. “Here. Put it here.”

“No. I’m not going to put it there, but you can. Here.” I peeled off the sticker and handed it to him.

He took the sticker with great care, as if it were a precious treasure. He put it on his headboard and smoothed it out.

“It’s upside down,” I said.

He flopped onto back, head on pillow, and rolled his head backward to look at the sticker. “Nuh-uh.”

Smart kid.

“Okay Jack. What next? Coloring?”

He jumped out of the bed. “Ice cream!”

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him with a stern eye. “Your mom didn’t mention ice cream. You sure it’s okay?”

He jumped up and down. “Yes. Ice cream.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You absolutely, 100% sure?”

I sighed, acting like getting ice cream was a huge inconvenience, but I was only teasing. “I guess we can have some ice cream.”

“Yay.” He took off, running toward the kitchen.

I followed and opened the freezer. “Doesn’t look like there’s any here.”

His shoulders slumped and it looked like he was about to cry.

Kneeling down next to him, I lifted his chin to look at me “I’m sorry, but there’s no ice cream.”

His eyes opened wide. “The big freezer.”

It’s amazing how fast little kids can go from happy to sad or sad to happy. It’s like their emotions flip from one extreme to another instantaneously. I stood up, grabbed his hand. “Show me.”

He pulled me to the garage and I flicked on the switch and a single dim bulb came on in the middle of the garage, barely lighting the place. Even in the faint light I could see this was the cleanest garage I had ever been in. Various lawn tools hung on the walls, several dozen boxes were stacked against one wall and next to them, a riding mower. A small workbench was built into another wall with a row of cabinets on one side. Two freezers, an upright and a chest freezer, were on the other side of the workbench. Jack released my hand and ran over to the upright freezer and tugged on the handle.

Packages of meat and frozen vegetables, neatly stacked and labeled, filled the freezer. In the door were two half gallons of ice cream.

“Looks like we have vanilla or Rocky Road,” I said. “Which one?”

“Rocky Road.”

I grabbed the ice cream, shut the freezer door and notice the chest freezer had a large padlock on it.

“What’s in there?” I pointed to the chest freezer.

His eyes were serious. “I’m not supposed to talk bout it.”

I knelt down, eye level to Jack. “Your mom left me in charge, remember? It’s okay to tell me”

“No.” He ran back into the house.

Weird. I went back into the kitchen, turning the light off behind me, and put the ice cream on the kitchen counter. Jack wasn’t there.

“Jack. Where are you?” I called out.

No answer.

In his bedroom, I looked in the closet and under the bed. “Jack. This isn’t funny. Where are you?”

Next, I checked the master bedroom. He wasn’t anywhere. “Jack, seriously, we can play hide and seek later.”

I went back down the hallway toward the kitchen, and checked the hall closet as I went. I heard muffled sobbing in the bathroom.

“Jack? You okay?” I opened the bathroom door, afraid it’d be locked but it wasn’t. The crying came from the bathtub. I pulled the shower curtain back and there he was, curled up in a fetal position, sucking his fingers—not his thumb, but two fingers from one hand.

“Oh sweetie. It’s okay.” I pulled him to me hugging him.

“I can-can’t talk about it.”

“You don’t have to.” I squeezed him tight. “I’m sorry I asked you and I promise we won’t talk about it. Ready for ice cream?”

His face was still buried in my shoulder but he nodded his head.

“Okay. Ice cream it is.” I scooped him up and carried him to the kitchen.

I pulled out a kitchen chair with my foot and set him in it. The instant I released him he scrambled from the chair and into a different one.

“Don’t you like that chair?” I asked, trying to sound like it was no big deal.

“It’s Daddy’s chair.”

“He’s not here now.”

“But he … he would know if I sat in it and I’m not supposed to.” He looked on the verge of tears again.

The boy was terrified of doing the wrong thing. Was there some sort of abuse going on in this house? I didn’t know the Jellstouts. Never babysat for them before. My mom knew Mrs. Jellstout from a mutual friend and got me the babysitting gig. Maybe Mom’d know if there was anything hinky going on here.

One thing for sure, I needed to calm little Jack down.

“It’s okay Jack. You sit where you want. Now, you want a lot of ice cream or just a little bit?”

He looked up at me, almost shyly. “A lot.”

“Okay, one big bowl of Rocky Road coming up.” I found the bowls and spoons and dished out a good size helping and put it in front of him. He eagerly started eating it, getting chocolate smeared on his face. I retrieved a glass and filled it up with tap water and put it on the table next to him. “I don’t know about you, but eating ice cream always makes me thirsty.”

He looked at the water glass for a moment, then pushed it away, knocking the glass over, spilling water over the table.

“Jack, that wasn’t very nice.”

He sprang from the chair and disappeared back down the hallway, whimpering as he went.

I let out a heavy sigh and followed him. The masks on the living room wall seemed to be smiling at me as I passed by. He was in the bathroom again, hiding in the tub. I pulled back the shower curtain and sat on the tub’s edge. “What’s wrong?”

He covered his face with his hands and shook his head wildly.

“I’m sorry. Come on Jack. It’s okay.”

He lowered his hands and examined me as if trying to judge if I could be trusted.

“I’m sorry, Jackie. I didn’t know you don’t like water.”

“I—I—” he took a sharp intake of breath, a final sob, before continuing. “That’s bad water.”

“Your tap water is bad?”

He nodded solemnly.

“Why’s it bad?” I asked.

“I’ll get sick if I drink it.”

How bizarre. “Okay, you don’t have to drink it. Come on, let’s finish the ice cream.”

He looked at me, lower lip quivering.

“Let’s go. Want me to carry you?”

He nodded.

I scooped him up and carried him back into the kitchen and sat him at his seat. “Go ahead and eat the ice cream and I’ll clean up this bad water.” I grabbed a dish towel, wiped up the spilled water, and put the glass in the sink. Then I pulled out the chair next to him. “Okay if I sit here?”

He nodded, while spooning ice cream into his mouth.

I studied the kid, chewing my lip. What was wrong with him? He was as skittish as a jack rabbit. Happy one second and terrified the next. Afraid of water? Sheesh. He didn’t seem slow or autistic, just frightened.

“You have any
not bad
water?” I asked.

He pointed to the refrigerator.

“Want a glass?”

He didn’t say anything, just kept shoveling in the ice cream.

“Jack, sweetie, would you like a glass of good water?

He nodded.

I got up, opened the fridge, and found a large green Tupperware pitcher. I showed him the pitcher. “This?”

“Yeah.”

I poured him a cup. The water had a reddish tint. I hesitated, not sure what was in the water. I sniffed it. It smelled weird, like copper. I put the cup on the table. “You sure you want this?”

He grabbed the cup and gulped the water.

“Why is the other water not good?” I asked.

He finished draining the cup and let out a small burp. He covered his mouth, stifling a giggle.

I laughed.

When I laughed he stopped trying to hide his giggle and laughed full out as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

“I burped,” he said.

“Yes you did. It’s funny. Why is the other water bad?”