The Moons of Jupiter - Alice Munro [91]
The first time she took him to Mrs. Kidd’s’ room, Mrs. Kidd said she and Charlotte were just going out, they were going to the Crafts Room. She didn’t ask them to come along. The next time they came, Mrs. Kidd and Charlotte were sitting there playing Scrabble, so they were caught.
“You don’t mind if we watch you for a little while,” Mrs. Cross said.
“Oh no. But don’t blame me if you get bored. Charlotte takes a week from Wednesday to make up her mind.”
“We’re not in any hurry. We’re not expected anywhere. Are we, Jack?”
She was wondering if she could get Jack playing Scrabble. She didn’t know the extent of his problem when he tried to write. Was it that he couldn’t form the letters, was that all? Or couldn’t he see how they made the words? This might be the very thing for him.
At any rate he was taking an interest. He edged his chair up beside Charlotte, who picked up some letters, put them back, picked them up, looked at them in her hand, and finally made wind, working down from the w in Mrs. Kidd’s word elbow. Jack seemed to understand. He was so pleased that he patted Charlotte’s knee in congratulation. Mrs. Cross hoped Charlotte would realize that was just friendliness and not take offense.
She needn’t have worried. Charlotte did not know how to take offense.
“Well good for you,” said Mrs. Kidd, frowning, and right away she made demon across from the d. “Triple word!” she said, and was writing down the score. “Pick up your letters, Charlotte.”
Charlotte showed her new letters to Jack, one by one, and he made a noise of appreciation. Mrs. Cross kept an eye on him, hoping nothing would happen to turn him bad-tempered and spoil this show of friendliness. Nothing did. But he was not having a good effect on Charlotte’s concentration.
“You want to help?” Charlotte said, and moved the little stand with the letters on it so that it was in front of both of them. He bent over so that he almost had his head on her shoulder.
“Anh-anh-anh,” said Jack, but he sounded cheerful. “Anh-anh-anh?” said Charlotte, teasing him. “What kind of a word is that, anh-anh-anh?”
Mrs. Cross waited for the skies to fall, but the only thing Jack did was giggle, and Charlotte giggled, so that there was a sort of giggling-match set up between the two of them.
“Aren’t you the great friends,” said Mrs. Kidd.
Mrs. Cross thought it would be just as well not to exasperate Mrs. Kidd if they wanted to make a habit of visiting.
“Now Jack, don’t distract Charlotte,” she said affably. “You let her play.”
Even as she finished saying this, she saw Jack’s hand descend clumsily on the Scrabble board. The letters went flying. He turned and showed her his ugly look, worse than she had ever seen it. She was amazed and even frightened, but she did not mean to let him see.
“Now what have you done?” she said. “Fine behavior!”
He made a sound of disgust and pushed the Scrabble board and all the letters to the floor, all the time looking at Mrs. Cross so that there could be no doubt that this disgust and fury had been aroused by her. She knew that it was important at this moment to speak coldly and firmly. That was what you must do with a child or an animal, you must show them that your control has not budged and that you are not hurt or alarmed by such displays. But she was not able to say a word, such a feeling of grief, and shock, and helplessness rose in her heart. Her eyes filled with tears, and at the sight of her tears his expression grew even more hateful and menacing as if the feelings he had against her were boiling higher every moment.
Charlotte was smiling, either because she could not switch out of her giggling mood of a moment before or because she did not know how to do anything but smile, no matter what happened. She was pink-faced, apologetic, excited.
Jack managed to turn his chair around, with a violent, awkward motion. Charlotte stood up. Mrs. Cross made herself