Read Online The Child by Sarah Schulman - Free Book Online Page B

clenched teeth distorted his whole face.
    Wisotscky noted uncontrollable on his notepad.
    “Stew,” Brigid said, reaching out for his little shoulder. “How can we help you to behave if you won’t say anything? We want it all to work out, but you have to co-operate, too.” She took her hand away.
    “Why are you lying?”
    Brigid was up to her elbows in suds again.
    “See, Doctor? I’m in over my head. Marty and I are trying to do everything you people tell us to do, but you’re not helping us handle it. Right now, with Stew acting this way, I can’t deal with him. If you make me take Stew home, something terrible is going to happen.”
    “You stop that, Brigid, or I’m out of here,” Marty blasted, exhausted. “I can’t take any more.” Marty looked scared. “Control yourself, Stew.”

    Wisotscky could see that the mother was narcissistic and childish. She acted like a girl. If the father would give the son some contained attention, everyone would be satisfied. And the father would feel better about himself, more self-esteem.
    “I am controlled.” Stew was enraged. “I’m not doing or saying what I want to say or do. Isn’t that what you want?”
    “Stew.” Wisotscky decided to wrap it up. “Do you want to have a short-term residency in a juvenile detention facility?”
    “You’ve got to stop it, Dad.”
    “Stop what, Stew? Your father isn’t saying anything.”
    “No, he said it before. He’s got to stop all those sentences beginning with the word you . I can’t take them anymore. Listen to me, Dad. I can’t take it. I’m not just saying that. I’m telling you the truth. Please, please, stop.”
    “I’m talking, too,” Brigid said.
    “Stop what?” Marty said. “What are you talking about? Are you hearing voices?”
    “Stop everything that starts with the word you . I can’t take it, I’m not kidding.”
    That was it. Marty gave up. Wisotscky saw him get overwhelmed. A little more paternal confidence and everything would be fine here.
    “See, Doc, the kid doesn’t make any sense. Now he wants to stop me from talking. Well, kid, you can’t tell me how to talk. I’m going to tell you how to talk. Shut up. That’s how you should talk.”
    “Mrs. and Mrs. Mulcahey, Carole, please step outside for a minute. I want to speak with Stew alone.”
    Wisotscky sat back in his chair, watching, as Brigid, Carole, and Marty obeyed, angrily, awkwardly, silently, negotiating their exits.

9
    The next day, Monday, Eva came back from work, groceries in hand. And flowers. Something horribly unexpected had happened on the way home. But inside their apartment, Mary was the one waiting for comfort.
    “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, tiny, vulnerable, relieved.
    This sweetness opened Eva’s heart. It healed her. She kissed the love of her life.
    “So am I.”
    “I walked into the theater and he said, ‘I can get this play done, and I can do it soon.’”
    “Wow!” This was great news. “The Federal Theater said that!” Eva put down the shopping bags and started jumping around.
    “Wait!”
    “Oh, okay.” Listening quietly, Eva unpacked the vegetables. This was her greatest pleasure. To belong to someone. Someone to come home to, to talk to, someone waiting for her. Someone to listen to. To look at. This was it.
    “That’s what I thought.” Mary was pacing, gesticulating, finally supported enough to be outraged. “I thought, Wow, this is finally going to happen .” She lit a cigarette.
    The radishes were gorgeous. They were so white, they were like stars. Eva put them on a blue plate. It looked incredibly weird.
    “Okay.” Mary imitated the gruff, dumb, generically male artistic director. “‘But we have to make the play work,’ he says. ‘It needs one good story.’”

    “Okay.” Eva was open, wanting to get it. “Oh wait, is this that whose play is it thing?”
    “Wait!” Mary inhaled.
    “Okay.”
    “‘I love the part about the boy,’ he says. ‘But those