January First: A Child's Descent Into Madness and Her Father's Struggle to Save Her (4 page)

She gets off and runs back inside the house.

I follow, moving as quickly as I can through the maze of other parents, trying not to bump into any of them. I have to catch up to Janni so I can cut off any conflict that might come between her and the rest of the world.

Thankfully, and a bit to my surprise, Janni has stopped in the living room to watch Sara leading Violet and the other girls in a game of Red Rover.

“Hey, Janni!” Sara spots us. “You want to play?”

“It’s a fun game,” I add, hoping the game will lure Janni in.

“No. I just wanna watch.”

I don’t know why she wants to watch and not play. When she was eighteen months old, she would walk up to other toddlers and ask them their names, even though most of them didn’t yet talk. She was always interested in other children. Now they can talk and she’s not interested.

I glance down and realize Janni is not beside me anymore. She slipped away and I didn’t even notice. My first instinct is to scan the kids, hoping Janni has joined in the game after all, but no, she isn’t among the happy, laughing girls. Wishful thinking. Maybe she went out to the backyard again? I go back outside to the swing, but she isn’t there.

Panic is rising inside of me. This is what she always does. When she wants to leave, she just goes. I am terrified she might have just walked out the door. She’s done it before.

I start searching the house, room by room. Finally, I go into Violet’s room. The blinds are pulled and the corners of the room are filled with shadows. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Then I see Janni, down on the floor, pulling Violet’s stuffed animals off her bed and lining them up.

Violet comes into the room behind me. At first I think she just came to get something, because her friends aren’t with her. She has plenty of other girls who actually want to be her friend. Why waste her time with a girl who tells her she hates her?

But to my surprise, she sits down next to Janni.

“Hi,” she says to Janni.

Janni ignores Violet like she isn’t even there.

Violet takes a stuffed lion out of the line Janni is building. The lion. Leo. Janni’s astrological sign.

“I call this one Mr. Lion,” Violet says to Janni.

Janni grabs the lion back. “That’s 60.”

“Why not ‘Mr. 60 the Lion’?” I suggest to Janni.

“No. He’s 60.”

“Can’t he be both?” I ask hopefully. This is different. Violet is different. She is really trying.
Please, Janni
, I think to myself,
just give a little
.

“No,” Janni answers.

Violet picks up a doll. “This is my favorite. Her name is Elle.”

Janni looks askew at the doll. “That’s 11.” She takes the doll from Violet.

But Violet doesn’t get angry. She leans in next to Janni, so close their hair is touching. Violet’s short brown hair looks so neatly combed next to Janni’s tangled mess of curls that she won’t let us brush anymore.

Janni is hunched over the stuffed animals, talking to herself.

Something about this sight looks familiar, but I can’t place it. And then it hits me with a force that makes me shiver. In the twilight of the room, huddled over, Violet next to her, trying to reach her, trying to be her friend, Janni looks like a shut-in. She is Laura in
The Glass Menagerie
, lost in her own world. I feel a sob rising in my throat, but I fight it down. No, I am being overdramatic. This is just a stage. Janni will outgrow this.

SUSAN IS JUST getting out of her car, having come straight from work, as Sara opens the door to let us out.

Susan smiles and waves to Violet, who is standing at the door to say good-bye, like the well-behaved hostess she has been trained to be. I am barging out the door, following Janni.

“Where are you going?” Susan asks me, as Janni and I pass her.

“I need to feed Janni,” I snarl. “She’s hungry and there was no pizza.”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Sara says, like nothing is happening. “I didn’t know that’s what Janni wanted.”

“She is a very picky eater.” There goes Susan again, always explaining everything. Then to me, “What about the cake? Have they had the cake yet?”

“The cake is still an hour away. I can’t keep Janni here that long. I need to get her fed.”

I am furious at Susan. I refuse to get angry with Janni. This isn’t her fault. She never wanted to come to this party in the first place.

“She should at least have some cake,” Susan protests.

“I’m getting her out of here,” I say, crossing the street to our car, Janni already ahead of me. “I never should’ve brought her.”

“I want pizza,” Janni adds.

Susan is rushing after us as I open the car door and climb in.

“What happened? Why are you so angry?”

I turn on her.

“You’re torturing her.”

Susan looks confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“What you are doing to her, forcing her to come to birthday parties and taking her to playdates, it’s torture.”

“I’m only trying to find her friends,” Susan answers.

“I’m tired of it,” I yell. “I’m tired of you always insisting that she will get along with this child or that child, and every damn time I actually fall for it, hoping you’re right, but it’s always the same. I just watched Violet trying so hard to connect with Janni, and Janni just ignored her. I won’t do it anymore.”

“Fine,” Susan answers. “It sounds more like you can’t handle it. I’ll take her.”

“No,” I hiss at her. “I am not going to let you keep exposing her to people that will only make her feel like a freak! She’s brilliant!”

“I know she’s brilliant!” Susan fires back.

“That’s not the point! Janni’s IQ is higher than 99.9 percent of the population. That means out of six billion people, Janni is smarter than all but six million of them!”

“That’s still a lot.”

“They could be anywhere in the world! Do you know what the odds are of finding any of them?”

“We have to keep trying,” Susan answers.

“No, we don’t. We can leave her in peace.”

“So what I am supposed to do? Stop trying to find her friends?”

“Exactly.” I slam the car door on Susan and drive off with Janni.

CHAPTER FOUR
December 16, 2007

T
he blinds are open and darkness is descending quickly around us as the green LED lights of the fetal heart monitor blink at me. I see our son’s heartbeat as a staggered yellow line crossing the monitor screen. His name will be Bodhi, the tree under which Siddhartha Gautama was sitting when he achieved enlightenment and became the Buddha. We aren’t Buddhists or even religious, but we hope that our son can bring peace to Janni just as the shade of the Bodhi Tree brought comfort to the Buddha.

In the light shining in from the hospital corridor, I can barely make out Susan’s head. I’m not sure if she is asleep. I know I should be with her to welcome Bodhi coming into this world, but I can’t stop worrying about Janni. She needs me. I can sense it.

I feel for my cell phone in my pocket and fight the desire to call and check in. I have to let this go. I have to trust that my dad can handle her.

“I wonder how your dad is doing with Janni,” Susan comments from the darkness, startling me. Even she is thinking about Janni, despite waiting for the anesthesiologist to come and insert the epidural needle into her spine.

“I’m sure they’re probably fine,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as Susan. Janni has never been apart from both of us at the same time until tonight.

We fall silent, listening to the beep of Bodhi’s heartbeat. It’s hard for me to believe that just ten months ago, I had no intention of ever having another child. Susan had been talking about it for a while, reminding me that her “time was running out.”

But that was not why I finally agreed to a second child. I wanted Bodhi for one reason and one reason only: because Janni said she wanted a sibling. Bodhi is the biggest gamble I have ever made in my life. For five years, we’ve been trying to find another child who would “get” Janni’s imagination, and failed. So this is my last-ditch attempt. If I can’t find a child whom Janni can relate to, maybe I can create one?

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” I speak quietly from the dark, “but I actually hope Bodhi is just like Janni.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. I would go through this all again. The total lack of sleep and the having to constantly stimulate him.”

“We won’t have to do that. Bodhi will have what Janni didn’t have, an older sibling.”

I chuckle.

“Knowing our luck, this one will probably sleep.” The smile dies on my lips. “But if I have to do it all over again, I will, if it will mean Janni has somebody like her.”

“I feel the same way.” Susan’s arm reaches out for me.

I stand up and take it.

“You should probably call your dad and check on Janni,” Susan says to me.

“Okay.” I go out into the hall and call my father.

“Is everything okay?” I ask when he answers the phone.

“Well, we went to the mall, to that play area, but she didn’t want to stay very long. She tried to run off.”

I close my eyes. This is exactly what I was afraid of.

“So where are you going now?” I ask.

“We’re going to take her to dinner.”

I look over at Susan. Even in the shadows, I can see her eyes, nervous. I make a decision.

“Come back to the hospital and pick me up.”

“Michael, it’s fine. You need to be with Susan,” my dad tells me.

“Susan’s fine. Bodhi’s not coming tonight anyway. I can go for a few hours.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he agrees, a little too quickly. “We’ll pick you up in front of the hospital in ten minutes.”

I hang up and turn back to Susan.

“Everything okay? How is Janni?” I can hear the anxiety in her voice.

“Dad took her to the mall, but she got bored and wanted to leave. Now they’re going to dinner.”

“How do you think she is doing with him?”

I sigh. “He can’t handle her.”

“Did something happen?” she asks, her voice cracking.

“No, I don’t think so. But I better go with them to dinner.”

Susan falls silent for second. She knows. We both had a strong feeling this might happen. Of course, we wanted to believe Janni would do okay without us, but deep down we knew. We couldn’t trust anybody else to stimulate Janni to the same extent we do.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask. “I’ll only be gone for a little while.”

“It’s not like I haven’t been through this before,” she says, trying to sound cavalier, but I can hear the disappointment in her voice.

This is wrong. I am abandoning my wife at the time she needs me most. But Janni needs me more. Susan will have the hospital staff. Janni has no one.

I take Susan’s hand, threaded with IVs, in mine.

“Let me go with her to dinner, get her down, and then I will be back. I promise.”

“I know. I feel better that you’ll be with her anyway.” Susan cranes her neck for a kiss, and I bend down to meet her.

MY DAD, WHO flew in from Arizona, rented a boat of a car. I get into the backseat with Janni. Even in the dark I can see her eyes. She has gone to that place inside her mind where nothing out here matters to her. I need to say something silly to snap her out of it, but I can’t. I shouldn’t even have to be here. I should be back with Susan. I resent my father. If he would only play with her like I do. Why is it so hard for everyone else? I’ve been doing this for five years and my dad can’t even handle an hour.

My dad starts asking me questions about how Susan is doing.

“She’s fine,” I answer curtly. “How were things at the mall?”

“Well,” he begins. I can see his face in the rearview mirror. “We had some problems. Janni kicked me.”

I exhale sharply and turn my head to look out the window. Normally, when this type of thing happens, I make a show of chastising Janni, but in my mind I justify it as part of her struggle with the world that sees her as just an ordinary child. But this is my father. I can’t let this go.

“Janni! Why did you do that?” I ask, turning to her. I am scared. I don’t trust my dad to put up with this, even though she is his only
grandchild. I want to believe that because he is blood he will hang on, but I sense he is on the edge, after only an hour.

I hear the sound of a foot striking something solid.

“Janni, don’t do that,” Dad says. “It’s distracting for me.”

Janni is kicking the back of my father’s seat. I don’t see any anger. It is like she is swinging her legs in the breeze.

“Janni, Grandpa needs to drive,” I tell her. I hear my own voice in my ears. I am begging. I know where this is going.

Janni keeps swinging her legs into the back of my dad’s seat.

“Janni, stop that!” he commands, like he used to do with me. Whenever I heard that tone from him as a kid, I stopped immediately. That tone scared me. It still does and I’m an adult. But Janni is not me. The stern voice of authority means nothing to her. I can see her eyes. The “this is a funny game” look has returned.

She keeps kicking. I feel paralyzed, not sure what to do. I could yell at her, too, but that would only make her do it more.

She keeps kicking the back of my father’s seat.

“Janni! For the last time, I said ‘Stop it!’ ”

But Janni is not going to stop. “For the last time” means nothing to her, because she has nothing to lose. I need to distract her, get her mind on something else other than kicking my dad’s seat, but I can’t think of anything.

Janni continues to kick.

“Janni!” my father roars. He takes his right hand off the steering wheel and reaches around. I feel like I am watching a plane crash in slow motion. He lightly spanks her on her knee.

My dad settles back into his seat, thinking he has solved the problem. What he doesn’t know, what he can’t see in the dark of the backseat, is that I have unbuckled my seat belt and am leaning across the seat, putting my full weight on Janni’s legs because she is still trying to kick the back of his seat.

CHAPTER FIVE
December 22, 2007