Ike Hamill - The Hunting Tree Trilogy

Mrs. Bevelaqua had regarded Davey carefully. He realized that she was trying to assess how much a boy of his age could comprehend. “Yes, Davey,” she said finally. “That’s what we would call a ‘Man Bites Dog’ story when I used to work in the news room. You think it’s going to be one thing, but then it’s another.”

He remembered the way she had folded her hands in her lap and waited for his mother to return.

Davey had been insulted and angry. He knew that she and her husband had never “been blessed with children,” but didn’t she understand that having no experience didn’t make him stupid? The realization hit him like a brick—sometimes grownups were just rude. Other occasions of people talking down to him had occurred to Davey as he sat next to Mrs. Bevelaqua in the backyard that day.

This week had brought similar revelations. He visualized his brain moving small steps back from his body. He still experienced what was happening, but he had a new perspective and saw the world at arm’s length. With this new outlook he realized that he liked being alone, but he also missed his friends and the social aspects of school. He knew that he would need to find another way to occupy his brain or he would be bored out of his skull once he returned to class.

DAVEY GOT TO THE DOOR just one minute after his mom’s deadline. She was still in her office; he could hear her talking on the phone. He ambled over to the doorway to her office and regarded his mom, sitting at her desk.

She listened to her earpiece for several moments before delivering her decision—“I know you’re tapped, but I need to know how many hours you can give me next quarter." She paused. “It’s part of your job ,” she said. “If you’re not estimating your capacity then you’re not doing your job.”

“Mom?” he asked during her pause.

She sighed deeply and then swiveled her chair to face Davey. Her eyes stared off over his head. “I know. Yes, I understand that, Peter." She paused again.

That’s what it’s like , thought Davey. That’s what it’s like when you disconnect from your body and live in your head. That’s what adults do all the time. I’ll never do that. I’ll stay connected.

“Goodbye,” she said as she reached up and removed her headset. “Sorry Davey,” she said. “I’m all set until two. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“That’s okay,” said Davey. He watched his mother collect her wallet and phone into her big purse. “Mom?”

“Yeah?” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“What do you do exactly?” he asked.

She laughed and herded him towards the door. “Some people would say not very much.”

“How come?”

“My job is to be the glue; to stick together all the things that need sticking,” she said.

“What’s that mean?”

“I’ll give you an example,” said Melanie. “Let’s say you have a test next week, but you also have to send a letter to your grandmother." She waited for him to catch up—Davey moved slowly to make sure he didn’t have to breathe too deeply. When he made it to the car, she continued: “My job would be to write down that you have a test and a letter. Then, when you get really wrapped up worrying about your test, I make sure you don’t forget about your grandmother.”

“How do you do that?”

“Mostly just by having meetings. I keep a list and then I ask everyone around the table about all the stuff they were supposed to do since the last meeting.”

“Couldn’t everyone just keep track of what they were supposed to do for themselves?” asked Davey. He clicked his seatbelt as Melanie started the car.

“One would think,” she said, laughing again. “I guess they would, but they have competing priorities, so they get really focused on one thing and forget about everything else. Why the sudden interest in my job, Davey?” She smiled at him as she turned around to back out of the driveway.

“I just was wondering how you can do your job at home when I’m sick. You don’t have to stay home with me. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re funny,” Melanie said as she smiled again. She put the car into drive. “I don’t even think it’s legal to leave a nine-year-old home alone." She glanced at her son in the rearview mirror. “Are you still having bad dreams?”

“Not too much,” Davey lied for the second time that day. His dreams had increased in both frequency and detail, but he had adjusted to them. They still scared him, but he didn’t wake up screaming, like before.

Melanie glanced to the rearview and saw the cloud pass over Davey’s face. She regretted her question. Her son had been happy and smiling, asking her intelligent questions about her job and now he sat tight-lipped and upset. Her well-intentioned query had caused him to drop into the condition she was worried about.

She attempted to changed the subject. “How’s Paul doing?”

“He’s still grou…” he cut himself off. After the hospital, Davey had never been punished for sneaking out of school. Paul hadn’t been so lucky. He had been denied television and video games for a week, and fully blamed Davey. “He’s fine,” Davey said.

“Wait a sec. Didn’t you bring anything to do in the waiting room?”

“I’ve got ‘The Hobbit,’” he said.

“What’s that, a game?”

“No,” he said, giggling. “The book?”

“Oh, good for you!”

“ANY HEADACHES?” DR. STUART FINISHED his examination of Davey with a look in his ears.

“Nuh-uh,” Davey shook his head.

“You’d tell me if you did, right?” asked the doctor.

“Sure,” said Davey. He shot a sideways glance over to his mother.

Dr. Stuart nodded and turned to address Melanie. “Oh, I forgot to ask. Ms. Hunter, did you get all the insurance forms to the front desk?”

“Yes,” she said. “I filled out all the paperwork while we waited.”

He turned his head away from Davey, and raised his eyebrows at her.

Melanie clued-in all at once. “Oh, no I didn’t. I forgot to give them something. Would you mind if I went and did that now?”

“Sure, that’s no problem,” said Dr. Stuart. “We’re just wrapping up here.”

When he turned back to Davey, the boy scrutinized him closely.

“You know I was just trying to get rid of your mother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Davey.

“Do lots of people underestimate how much you understand?” asked Dr. Stuart.

“I guess,” said Davey, looking down at the floor.

“Not to worry.” Dr. Stuart sat down in the chair that Davey’s mom had vacated. “Everyone grows up at different rates. You’re a little early, some will be late. Everyone catches up in the end. Well, most everybody catches up.” Dr. Stuart smiled.

Davey smiled back.

“Do you know what doctor-patient privilege is, Davey?” asked Dr. Stuart.

Davey shook his head.

“That means that if you want to tell me something, I can never be compelled to repeat it. Well, at least in Maine,” he amended. He knew that kids this age could be like little human lie-detectors. The only way to gain their trust was to be completely honest. “They could bring me in to court and threaten me, but I would never repeat something you said in confidence because then you could sue the heck out of me. Now if I find anything medical, I’m probably going to tell your mom, but that’s mostly so she can help you get better. But I think there’s something else wrong. Am I right?”

Davey considered the question, wrinkling his brow and trying to decide which issue, if any, he thought the doctor might be able to help with. He decided to start with a test, to see if the doctor was truly trustworthy. “Is there something wrong with me?”