Throughout the ride, Rachel tried to keep up conversation with Sheila, but her mind was aswirl with emotion. By the time the bus arrived back at the Dells, she had put away the anger, resentment, and envy, leaving her with an overwhelming sense of sadness not unlike grief.
When she got home, Rachel found a voice message from Martin saying he would be getting home late that night and would have dinner in town. So she dropped Dylan off with her sitter who was free and headed to an afternoon exercise class at Kingsbury Club just outside of Hawthorne. It would feel good to throw herself into some mindless technomusic aerobics just to work off the stress.
The place, a large structure tastefully designed and nestled between an open field and conservation area, was a full-service fitness center with tennis courts, full-length pool, a workout gym with all the latest in exercise equipment. Shortly after she had joined, she convinced Sheila to do the same.
The parking lot was more than half-full at that time of day. When she did not spot Sheila’s green Jaguar, she felt relieved. She didn’t want to see her. She didn’t want to talk to her.
Her aerobics class had about twenty women, some of whom she was friendly with. But she did not feel friendly this afternoon, so she skipped the two o’clock class and headed for the treadmills.
About fifteen minutes into her workout, Rachel spotted Sheila through the windows to the lobby. Before Rachel could duck out of view, Sheila waved at her. In a few minutes Sheila showed up wearing a black warm-up suit with white stripes.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, getting on the adjacent machine.
“I’m only on for another ten minutes,” Rachel said.
“That’s fine. I’m here for a quick hit. I’ve got a place to show at three.”
Rachel clicked up her speed a couple of tenths until she was at a full power walk. Meanwhile, Sheila got herself into a stiff gait. They kept that up silently for several minutes until Rachel dropped her speed to cool off and coast to a finish. Sheila did the same.
“Sorry about this morning,” Sheila said, after catching her breath.
“No problem.” Rachel got off the machine and mopped her face. She guzzled down some water from her bottle and started to head for the free weights, hoping Sheila would stay on her machine. But she got off, not having even worked up the slightest sweat. A quick hit that was hardly worth the effort.
They were in the main fitness room, a large chamber with nobody within earshot of them. So, on an impulse, Rachel announced, “I’m thinking of taking Dylan out of DellKids.”
“God, I hope not because of what happened.”
“No. It’s not Lucinda’s fault. We’re going to look for a more appropriate place for him. There’s a group in Bolton, and I hear the woman’s got an opening.”
Sheila nodded. “Have you spoken to Miss Jean?”
“No, but I will. And it’s not her fault, either. She’s been great with him. All of the DellKids staffers have.” Rachel expected Sheila to go on to deny the obvious, to be a good friend and conjure up all sorts of rationalizations and consolations.
But instead she nodded. “Lots of kids have learning disabilities.”
“I’m also thinking of finding a private school for him. I’m not sure Marsden Elementary has the best resources, especially with the budget cut. He’s going to need a more nurturing place with better special ed teachers.”
Sheila’s mood shifted slightly. Her cheery interest had faded into more serious speculation. “There are many good special schools,” Sheila said. “Chapman in Spring River is supposed to be excellent. There’s also the Taylor-Blessington in Wilton. Of course, there are several boarding schools out of state, if you want to go that route,” Sheila continued.
Suddenly Rachel wanted to end the conversation, and not just because the topic pained her. Something in Sheila’s interest struck her as suspicious. Maybe it was just raw envy, but Rachel resented Sheila’s solicitousness. She resented how Sheila could stand there smug in the certitude that her little brat had a lifetime ticket to ride while recommending for Dylan schools for intellectually handicapped kids. Besides, how the hell did she know so many special schools? “Can we change the topic, please?”
Sheila put her hand on Rachel’s. For a long moment she locked eyes with Rachel until she began to feel uncomfortable. “It really bothers you,” Sheila said, her face glowing with sincerity.
“What does?”
“His … disability.”
Rachel was nonplussed by Sheila’s obtuseness. Of course it bothers me. How in hell could it not bother me? “Sheila, why are you asking me this?”
“Because we’re friends, because you’re like me—the kind of mother who would do anything for your kid, right? Anything to make life better for them.”
Rachel did not know how to respond. She could not tell if Sheila was eliciting a genuine answer or just talking. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Now you’re getting edgy.”
“Yes, I’m getting edgy. I appreciate your concern, but I just don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s a private matter. You can understand that.”
Sheila nodded. “What if I told you there may be something you could do for him?”
The intensity on Sheila’s face held Rachel’s attention. “Like what?”
“Something I heard about that you might want to look into, that’s all.”
“I’m listening.”
“You once told me that Dylan was born pigeon-toed.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, you took corrective measures, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well … ?”
“Well what?”
“Well, you had the problem fixed, right?”
“So?”
Sheila leaned forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, I heard about a special procedure that’s … corrective.”
The word hovered between them like a dark bird. For a second Rachel felt as if the room had shifted. “But that was medical.”
“I’m talking about one that, well … that does work.”
“Works how?”
Sheila tapped the side of her head. “Improves a child’s cognitive functions—you know, memory, language, logic … intelligence.”
Intelligence. Rachel couldn’t tell if Sheila was being vague on purpose or if she didn’t know what she was talking about. “I’m listening.”
“Well, they’ve got special procedures for children with learning disabilities and brain dysfunctions.”
“Nobody said my son has a brain dysfunction.”
“Of course not, but … Look, I’m no specialist. They can explain it better.”
“Who’s they?”
“The people in charge. Doctors.”
Sheila was being irritatingly coy.
“Look, if we can get our kids’ teeth and noses and boobs fixed, why not their IQs?”
Rachel looked at her in disbelief. “Sheila, how can they do that? And what’s the name of the group? Who are they?”
Suddenly Sheila’s face flushed as if she had gone too far. “Look, let me get you some names and numbers then you can go from there.”
“But how come I haven’t heard about them?”
“You’re the new kid on the block. What can I say?”
For fifteen years Sheila had been working at New Century Realtors, the hottest franchise in the area. As office manager she was the undeclared mayor of Hawthorne. She knew everybody and their business. She was probably referring to one of those specialized instructional approaches that promised to raise your kid’s test results by a couple points, like those SAT prep courses.