For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe,
perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once;
just once, understand.”
- Unknown
Chapter 3
The Child, Misunderstood
Max had listened as Nick finished his eggs and said good-bye to Mimi. He'd pressed his ear to the cardboard doors, listening closely. When the chair scraped the floor and he heard Nick stand up, he cowered back against the furthest corner of his box.
Thump, thump, thump.
Max reached forward and made the slightest little crack in the front of the box. A dark brown eye peeked in. "It was very nice to meet you Max," Nick said, "Is it okay if I come see you again tomorrow?" he asked.
Max wasn't sure. He didn't like that feeling he'd gotten when Nick had looked at his eyes. But he didn't want to talk to say no, either.
"Okay then," Nick said, "It's settled. I'll be here tomorrow morning." He stood up and Max stared at those red Converse sneakers and squinted, trying to see what they said on them.
He was pretty sure there were names and phone numbers.
Then the red Converse sneakers walked away.
Max inched the box closer to the door, peeking out, as Mimi let Nick out. Some part of him wanted to run after Nick, but he didn't know what he'd do even if he did, so he stayed in the box and pulled the flaps closed.
Mimi came back from the door and sighed heavily. "Did you enjoy your visit, Max?" she asked, "Nick really liked you." She started opening cupboards and stuff again, getting ready for the kids' lunch. She hummed quietly as she worked. Max just sat and listened.
Max liked that Mimi hummed.
Max listened as the other kids came inside and started flocking around the table as Mimi set out lunches for everyone. Sometimes he was jealous that they got to sit at the table and he had to sit on the floor in his box, but not jealous enough to come out.
After a few minutes she knocked on his box. "Max?" she said, "I have your cereal."
Max inched the box door open just enough for her to slide in his box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a juice box. He clutched the cereal box to his chest and pulled box shut again.
"Why doesn't Max come out of the box?" whispered Jenny, who was a year younger than Max was.
"He likes his box," Mimi answered.
"Max is weird," whispered Sam, a little boy who was two years older than Max.
Jake's voice was lowest. At thirteen he was almost as much an authority now as Mimi. "Don't make fun of Max," Jake said.
Max liked Jake.
"But he is weird," Sam persisted. "Why would you wanna live all the time in a stupid old box anyways?" he demanded. "It's stupid."
"Max doesn't think it's stupid," Jake argued, "Do you Max?"
Max could see them all staring at his box through the crack. Part of him wanted to say no I don't think it's stupid, but he didn't dare to open his mouth. He wasn't certain how to say what he felt. He covered his face, afraid that they could see him.
"See? Max doesn't even talk, he's stupid," Sam said.
"Do not call him stupid," Mimi snapped. "Apologize to Max."
"Why? He probably didn't even hear me," Sam grumbled.
"Sam," Mimi growled.
"Fine, fine, I'm sorry Max."
Max didn't think Sam sounded very sorry at all.
Max opened up the box of cereal and pulled some out and began the process of licking off the cinnamon carefully. He liked how it felt grainy in his fingers. He rubbed his fingertips together... It reminded him of a sandbox he'd once played in, shaped like a turtle.
But that was a very long time ago now.
"Are you sure you don't want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Max?" Mimi asked, crouching down to peek into the tiny crack in the box. Max nodded. "They're really yummy," she said, patiently, "And it would be a change from your cereal..."
Max shook his head.
Mimi stood up and Max watched her mule slippers round the table. Sam and Jake were talking about hockey and Jenny was talking to Mimi about an imaginary castle she'd visited in the backyard.
Max started the crunching. They weren't talking about anything interesting now, so he didn't mind crunching through their conversations. He laid on his back in the box and stared into the darkness the box created, listening to the crunching in his ears as he counted to twenty-five each time he put a new cereal into his mouth.
When he'd finished, he realized he'd crunched too long.
"He asked if you were still playing baseball," Mimi was saying. The faucet was running ,which meant it was time for doing the dishes. Max listened carefully. Nick had asked Mimi about Jake playing baseball. He was sure this was about Nick. Max had decided he really liked Nick a lot.
"Did you tell him about hockey?" Jake asked.
"Yes," Mimi answered. Max heard her splash her hands into the water.
"Do you think Nick might come to a game sometime?" Jake asked.
"I don't see why not," Mimi replied.
Jake's voice was quiet, "What did he think about --" he cut off. Max peeked out the crack and saw Jake nodding towards his box. "You know?"
Mimi turned off the running water. "He's going to come over tomorrow," she answered.
"Think he'll write his senior papers on him?" Jake asked, "Perfect project huh? He told me in an e-mail last week he was looking into an internship at the Williams House..."
"He didn't mention that," Mimi said, "That's great."
"Yeah, they're hiring part-time help I guess, but they want all psychics or therapists or whatever he studied to be."
Mimi chucked, "He's going to be a child psychologist."
"Well there ya go," Jake laughed, "Perfect case right here."
"Which reminds me, Mister," Mimi said, her stern voice growing, "Did you get your homework done?"
Jake's voice trailed off, "Sure," he muttered.
"Why don't you go upstairs and get it set for tomorrow then?" Mimi asked, "I've had one college graduate go through this home, I'm looking forward to another one. Go."
Jake laughed, "I'm going to college to be a hockey player, Mim," he said.
"Goooo," Mimi laughed.
Max watched Jake's legs go by. Jake tapped the box, "See ya, squirt," he said as he went by.
Max hovered just behind the crack, watching Mimi carefully.
"Ah Max," Mimi hummed.
Max wondered what made her say his name, but he didn't want to speak to ask. He rolled onto his back again and stuck his feet up on the wall of the box and studied his red Converse sneakers that were just like Nick's.
