The Things I Want Most by Richard Miniter Page B

stopped talking and turned his back. Sue’s expression said, “Relax. Hehas to get used to you.” But I was miffed anyway and trudged downstairs to the barroom, where I poured myself a cup of coffee.
    It was just the four of us around the big table in the barroom that first evening—Liam, Sue, Mike, and I.
    Remembering what had happened with food during his visit, Sue carefully portioned his dinner onto a plate and handed it to the boy. Then, once we all settled ourselves, she started to say grace.
    But before she managed two words, Mike abruptly faced her and started to talk in his jangling, overloud voice. And talk.
    The three of us sat there embarrassed for a few minutes before we realized it wasn’t going to stop. Mike’s facial tic was working overtime, and he stayed facing Sue and only Sue. When he did manage to get some food up to his mouth, he chewed with exaggerated lip-smacking movements. Several times he rubbed his hand over his forehead without first wiping his fingers on the napkin, so by the time we were halfway through, his face and hair were streaked with barbecue sauce.
    â€œI have a real family. I know all about families,” he said. “Mom Alice Johnson and Dave Johnson my dad and my brother and sister, Tommy and Jane, and my little new baby sister Connie, and Grandma. Connie is a crack baby, and we just adopted her. We have a dog named Squiggles and ten goats and ten chickens, and my room is up in the attic, but I have to share it with Tom. I’m going to live there all the time later on and I’m happy there and probably I’m going to have a horse. Grandma is buying me a present for my birthday and for Christmas. Dave Johnson, my dad, works for the post office every day, and sometimes he takes me with him except for the time I had a problem and had to go to Rockland State Psychiatric Hospital, and then they put me in Poughkeepsie, and then they put me in the children’s home, and so I didn’t get to ride with Dad, but Ihave a real family. I was raised on a farm in Pennsylvania, so I know all about Pennsylvania, and Grandma is going to buy me a present.”
    And on and on it went. After ten minutes my ears started to hurt. All of this had the relentless ring of permanence.
    â€œI can do this thing,” Sue said later when we were having a cup of tea alone in the kitchen. She had been reading the exasperated expression on my face.
    â€œWhat is it we want to do?”
    Sue didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stared down as if she were a gypsy fortune-teller reading the answer in the bottom of the cup. “Give this kid a shot at a normal life,” she finally said. “No, that’s wrong. What we want to do is get out of his way and let him work out his own shot at a normal life.”
    â€œWell, somehow, we’ve got to slow him up. You’ll never be able to communicate with him otherwise. At least we have to turn the volume down, or I’ll be wearing ear protection at the dinner table. Five minutes after he started I was wishing for a nice quiet chain saw or maybe a leaf blower.”
    But Sue didn’t laugh. She just stared back into her tea.
    â€œI can do this thing, Rich.”
    â€œOkay, okay”
    Looking for something intelligent to say, I asked, “What about the Johnsons? There seems to be a considerable bond there, with the grandmother, too.”
    Sue scrunched up her face. “That’s one of the real mysteries about Mike. I spoke to Mrs. Johnson, and she was very emphatic about wanting to stay in contact. But there’s something in that relationship we don’t understand, something nobody will talk about. Kathy said they wouldn’t visit unless she pushed them a bit. Even then, months and months would go by. Then Joanne said that adoption by the Johnsons wasn’t an option, that family court had said no and refused to reopen the issue. Something happened way back