Summer Melody

Chapter 4 - Jane

Jane sat on the couch, idly fingering a nickel-sized hole in the upholstery's broad weave. Charley sat on the floor in front of her, systematically lining up his Match-Box cars into perfect rows, like he was overseeing parking in the world's widest drive-in movie. Jane had been babysitting him for more than a week now, and each day was exactly the same as the last. What had she gotten herself into?

On her first day of work, Mrs. Burke and Charley had met her at the door. After telling her not to worry about that "Mrs. Burke nonsense," Pam had introduced Jane to Charley. He'd stared at the plaid checks on her blouse, then turned and walked back into the kitchen.

In the dining room, Pam went over the routine. Jane listened with half an ear, trying to watch Charley at the same time through the cutaway in the wall that separated the dining room from the kitchen. He was sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal, swinging his legs under his chair like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. His jeans hung down over his feet. In this context, he looked like any other five-year-old.

Pam told her that Charley had a condition called PDD-NOS that fell on the autism spectrum. Jane had been wondering about whether babysitting this kid was a good idea in the first place, and now she really felt nervous. She didn’t even know there were different types of autism. When she asked, Pam said the whole thing was really confusing, and that basically, kids with PDD-NOS showed a lot of the same symptoms as children with autism. The worry must have shown in her face, because Pam help up a hand as if to stop a protest, and said that if Jane just followed the day’s schedule to the letter, she’d be fine. Charlie knew his routine better than anyone else, so for the most part, Jane should just let him do his thing. Lunch was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white toast, sliced on the diagonal. Charley would either get very upset, or just not eat, if there were any deviation. The other part of the day that could not be tampered with was Charley's show, on from three to three-thirty: Food Frenzy. He knew what channel he needed and would turn the television on at the right time.

"It's his favorite show. And it's the only time the television should be on." Pam eyed Jane to see if this was going to be a problem. As if. There was nothing on during the day anyway except talk shows and soap operas. Ick.

"Will he talk to me, do you think?" If not, a little quiet wouldn't be so bad. A nice change from Davey – who never, ever, shut up.

Pam scrunched up her nose. "Maybe, maybe not. He doesn't talk to most people, just me and his dad. It sort of depends on how comfortable he gets around you."

When Pam left for work that morning, Charley walked with her to the door. He didn't look sad or upset, and he didn't kiss her goodbye. Pam didn't try to kiss him, either. Their only contact was Charley briefly pressing his palm against hers. It reminded Jane of that scene from E.T. where the alien and Elliott touch fingers. Maybe Charley was part alien. After Pam left, he shuffled back to the dining room table to finish his cereal. His face never changed its half-asleep expression.

After breakfast was done, he lined blocks up as precisely as if he'd had a ruler in front of him. This took forty-five minutes. Then he went to use the bathroom. Jane knew he was done after she heard the water: on and off and on and off and on and off. After he came back into the living room, he took his basket of coins off the shelf, and sorted them into pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. After he sorted them, he put them all back into the basket.

In all this time, he did not glance at Jane once. He might as well have been alone in the house. Her being there was so pointless. Jane normally did not have destructive impulses, but a fantasy entered her mind about whirling the basket of coins over her head like a helicopter blade, scattering them to all corners of the room.