squeal, but she doesn’t bite.”
Awesome!
Nutmeg walks across Jason’s communication book. She sniffs the air and poops on
Van.
“Sorry!” I jump to grab a tissue from the box on the receptionist’s desk. “Nutmeg! What kind of ‘hello’ is that?”
Gross! Hello.
I clean Jason’s book. “You can say that again.”
Gross! Hello.
“Very funny.” I reach into the front pocket of my backpack. “Speaking of jokes, I made words for you.”
When I look up, Jason is stroking Nutmeg’s back with his fingertips. I can see by the clench of Jason’s jaw how hard he’s struggling to control his movements to not frighten her. When he brings his hand away, he’s trembling.
I pretend not to notice, afraid it’ll embarrass him. “This first card is ‘joke.’ I thought you could use this word when you’re telling a joke or being sarcastic, to make sure the other person knows you’re kidding.”
Like. Word.
“And this is ‘whatever.’” I lean over to whisper, “It’s good for annoying your mother; at least, it has that effect on mine.” I demonstrate, swinging my gaze to the ceiling. “Whatever.”
Jason grins.
Good job. Whatever.
I move Nutmeg over so I can slide the cards, word after word, in Jason’s book. “And this is ‘secret.’ I thought sometimes we might want to talk without everyone hearing us. When one of us taps ‘secret,’ we’ll switch to only using your cards. Want to try it?”
Yes.
I look around for something to talk about. Out the window a man hurries across the parking lot, his beagle on a leash. “Do you see that guy?” I ask, pointing. “Let’s imagine who he is.”
The man dashes past the windows. The beagle trots beside him, head down, sniffing.
Jason taps,
Late. For. Dog. Show.
I give Jason a thumbs-up.
Good job. My. Turn.
I imagine the man and his dog as a perfect spy team, too ordinary to be noticed.
But Jason doesn’t have “spy” or “secret agent” or even “mysterious.” Searching Jason’s book,
Man. Is. A. Secret.
is the best I can do.
“I was imagining them a secret agent team,” I say finally. “Maybe we can talk about music, instead?”
Yes.
I pull my CD player from the front pocket of my backpack. “This is my favorite CD.” Putting the headphones over Jason’s ears isn’t as awkward as last time, but I still fight the urge to shiver as his hair brushes my fingers and the backs of my hands.
Who? Music.
I check his book, but of course, there’s no card. “It’s —”
Jason taps,
Secret.
I clamp my hand over my mouth. Don’t speak.
Catherine. Make. Word. Who?
I don’t have a blank card, so I remove
Good-bye.
from Jason’s book and draw on the back. It’s not a great picture of Avril Lavigne, but I’m in a hurry.
I don’t bother to slide it in Jason’s book, just lay the card on top. It’s a temporary word, and he’ll need “good-bye” more.
Jason studies the picture, headphones on, music playing.
Avril Lavigne. Stupid.
“What?” I startle Nutmeg into skittering across Jason’s book.
Jason grins.
Joke.
I dip my head in my best imitation of Mom’s no-nonsense look. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” I lift one side of the headphones, so he’ll hear me better. “My next card is going to say ‘you big jerk.’”
Secret.
I spoke again ! I bite my tongue to keep from using it and scan my word choices, lifting Nutmeg to see what she’s sitting on.
Jason taps,
Like. Avril Lavigne.
Me, too.
is all I can find to say.
“HI, JASON!”
Jason scowls as I take the headphones off his ears.
Speech. Woman. Yell. All the time
. He taps.
I. Can’t. Talk. But. I. Hear. Fine.
“HI, JASON!” his therapist repeats, louder. “How’s his day been going?” she asks his mother.
Jason’s hand moves.
Loud. Day.
“What a sweet little animal!” the speech therapist says. “But what’s it doing?”
I glance at Nutmeg busy chewing the edge of
Good-bye.
I lunge for her. “I’m sorry, Jason.”
He
Awesome!
Nutmeg walks across Jason’s communication book. She sniffs the air and poops on
Van.
“Sorry!” I jump to grab a tissue from the box on the receptionist’s desk. “Nutmeg! What kind of ‘hello’ is that?”
Gross! Hello.
I clean Jason’s book. “You can say that again.”
Gross! Hello.
“Very funny.” I reach into the front pocket of my backpack. “Speaking of jokes, I made words for you.”
When I look up, Jason is stroking Nutmeg’s back with his fingertips. I can see by the clench of Jason’s jaw how hard he’s struggling to control his movements to not frighten her. When he brings his hand away, he’s trembling.
I pretend not to notice, afraid it’ll embarrass him. “This first card is ‘joke.’ I thought you could use this word when you’re telling a joke or being sarcastic, to make sure the other person knows you’re kidding.”
Like. Word.
“And this is ‘whatever.’” I lean over to whisper, “It’s good for annoying your mother; at least, it has that effect on mine.” I demonstrate, swinging my gaze to the ceiling. “Whatever.”
Jason grins.
Good job. Whatever.
I move Nutmeg over so I can slide the cards, word after word, in Jason’s book. “And this is ‘secret.’ I thought sometimes we might want to talk without everyone hearing us. When one of us taps ‘secret,’ we’ll switch to only using your cards. Want to try it?”
Yes.
I look around for something to talk about. Out the window a man hurries across the parking lot, his beagle on a leash. “Do you see that guy?” I ask, pointing. “Let’s imagine who he is.”
The man dashes past the windows. The beagle trots beside him, head down, sniffing.
Jason taps,
Late. For. Dog. Show.
I give Jason a thumbs-up.
Good job. My. Turn.
I imagine the man and his dog as a perfect spy team, too ordinary to be noticed.
But Jason doesn’t have “spy” or “secret agent” or even “mysterious.” Searching Jason’s book,
Man. Is. A. Secret.
is the best I can do.
“I was imagining them a secret agent team,” I say finally. “Maybe we can talk about music, instead?”
Yes.
I pull my CD player from the front pocket of my backpack. “This is my favorite CD.” Putting the headphones over Jason’s ears isn’t as awkward as last time, but I still fight the urge to shiver as his hair brushes my fingers and the backs of my hands.
Who? Music.
I check his book, but of course, there’s no card. “It’s —”
Jason taps,
Secret.
I clamp my hand over my mouth. Don’t speak.
Catherine. Make. Word. Who?
I don’t have a blank card, so I remove
Good-bye.
from Jason’s book and draw on the back. It’s not a great picture of Avril Lavigne, but I’m in a hurry.
I don’t bother to slide it in Jason’s book, just lay the card on top. It’s a temporary word, and he’ll need “good-bye” more.
Jason studies the picture, headphones on, music playing.
Avril Lavigne. Stupid.
“What?” I startle Nutmeg into skittering across Jason’s book.
Jason grins.
Joke.
I dip my head in my best imitation of Mom’s no-nonsense look. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” I lift one side of the headphones, so he’ll hear me better. “My next card is going to say ‘you big jerk.’”
Secret.
I spoke again ! I bite my tongue to keep from using it and scan my word choices, lifting Nutmeg to see what she’s sitting on.
Jason taps,
Like. Avril Lavigne.
Me, too.
is all I can find to say.
“HI, JASON!”
Jason scowls as I take the headphones off his ears.
Speech. Woman. Yell. All the time
. He taps.
I. Can’t. Talk. But. I. Hear. Fine.
“HI, JASON!” his therapist repeats, louder. “How’s his day been going?” she asks his mother.
Jason’s hand moves.
Loud. Day.
“What a sweet little animal!” the speech therapist says. “But what’s it doing?”
I glance at Nutmeg busy chewing the edge of
Good-bye.
I lunge for her. “I’m sorry, Jason.”
He
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