Sleeping Beauty (5 page)

Grateful that Jeff had had the presence of mind to leave the toddler seats, I buckled them in, firmly pulling on the lap seat belt, opened the garage door and attempted to start the engine. My hands were shaking so hard that I couldnt get the key into the ignition. I laid my head on the wheel and attempted to slow my breathing.

Calm down. Just calm down. Just start the car. You are less than five minutes from the hospital . I talked myself out of my panic and I attempted to fit the key into the ignition. Shaking as I was, I could barely hold it in my hand.

Had I picked up the wrong key in my haste? I stared at the silver object. No, it was my key. Id know it anywhere. Oddly, in the dimness of the garage it also looked a good deal like a teaspoon.

A teaspoon? I broke the surface of the water and woke up.

I was sitting in the front seat of my car all right, in my pajamas and a raincoat, trying to fit the narrow end of a teaspoon into my ignition. I shook my head foggily. Maybe Id been asleep, but I knew Id heard someone choking. I turned to the back seat of my car where the boys car seats sat and felt a blush of heat run through my body, followed by a humiliated chill. There, in one of the toddler seats, was Chipper, growling and chewing at the restraints. He was fitted into the system of belts and buckles, his little rump in the seat, his hind legs sticking out stiffly through the openings where Tommy or Terrys legs would be. He was snarling frantically and gnawing at the black seat-belt straps that held him fast.

I reached over and popped the release. He scrambled out of the booster, dove for the floor of the car and wriggled himself beneath the front seat where he lay whimpering. I put my hands on the wheel and rested my forehead on them. No wonder Id thought Terrys forehead had seemed matted with hair. Id felt for the temperature of a dog .

It was likely that Chipper had been twitching and growling in his sleep, something he often did when he was dreaming.

Speaking of dreamingMy dreams are getting worse lately. Im reverting back to the activity level of my youth. I have acted on them more often in recent months and my behavior was significantly more bizarre.

What if Id tried to drive? Even if I didnt back right through my garage door, I still might have hit a fence or tree. Or maybe I would have felt the need to speed while I took my ill nephew to the hospital. Then I would have had to explain to some nice police officer why my beloved nephew seriously resembled a Pekingese.

Worse yet, what if I had put the boys and not Chipper into the car and had an accident? The thought chilled me. I could have hurt or killed them.

I felt my tears leak onto the tops of my hands as I listened to poor, innocent Chipper recover from his toddler carseat trauma. I desperately want my sister to go to South America and bring home their new baby. I want to give her peace of mind that her boys are safe with someone who loves them as much as she does. And I cant do either as long as my nighttime escapades put myself or anyone else in jeopardy.

Lord, show me what to do! Should I tell Mickey I cant watch the boys? Should I hire a babysitter for me? Do You want me to resign from the new job? Why me, Lord? Why this?

When Id eventually pulled myself together, I let Chipper run around in the backyard to release some pent-up emotional energy. He chugged around in those frantic doggy circles that I call frenetic puppy activity. He reminded me of a furry pressure cooker letting off steam. Then I bribed my way back into his good graces with bacon treats and carried him like a king back to the twins bed.

They were still asleep but each had somehow managed to stick a thumb in the others mouth. Sucking each others thumbs. A metaphor, I realized, for the way these two function. Together they are one terrifyingly bright mind replete with uncontrolled impulses. They are inquisitive, naughty, adorable and incorrigible. Suddenly the time that Mickey and Jeff were going to be away stretched before me like a vast wilderness of inhospitable territory and I had no roadmap.

Wearily, I spread a comforter on the floor in front of the guest-room door and lay down on it. This way the twins couldnt get up and escape without having to wake me and the hard floor would keep me from falling into a too deep and unpredictable sleep.

I awoke to the sensation of having my eyelashes plucked out one by one.

A tiny thumb and index finger tugged at my eyelid. The little fingers managed to open my eye and Terry peered inquisitively at my bloodshot eyeball. His hair was tousled and standing on end, his cheeks rosy and his breath warm against my cheek.

Then Tommy moved into view. They stared at me as if I were a most interesting find, almost as good as a frog, a grasshopper or even a garter snake.

Good morning, boys. My voice sounded as though the frog had taken up residence in my throat during the night.

They looked at each other as if Id said the most hilarious thing ever and fell on me giggling and tickling. Then Chipper jumped into the fray, locked his teeth around the leg of my pajamas and pulled, growling ferociously and wagging his tail. By the time I fought off the attack, pulled my pajamas back into place and crawledliterallyinto the kitchen to get orange juice, I was ready to return to bed. Terry and Tommy, however, had other ideas.

They wanted to make breakfast.

My sister keeps the boys occupied by teaching them to help around the house. Its a pointless and naive exercise as far as Im concerned but Mickey is a perennial optimist. Harebrained, loopy, impractical, you name it, thats Mickey where these boys are concerned.

While I forced my trembling hands to hold a glass steady and pour juice into it, the twins managed to get a frying pan out of my lower cupboard and a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. From now on I must a) padlock my refrigerator and b) quit stocking my eggs on the lowest shelf.

By the time Id captured those wonderful first dribbles of coffee from the pot in my mug, theyd cracked an entire dozen eggs into the pan as it sat on the kitchen floor.

If Mickey is going to teach those boys to cook, she has got to teach them that they must take the eggshells out of the pan, not drop them in on top of the eggs.

Buckfest, Tommy said proudly as he pointed to the gelatinous and crunchy mess in my stainless-steel frying pan.

I dont think you want to eat that for buckfesterbreakfast, sweetie. How about some nice oatmeal with a banana?

They looked at me as if Id lost my mind.

Your mother might buy you that sugarcoated, poisonous colored cereal that would give a boulder a sugar buzz, but at my house we eat healthy food.

Like warm milk, turkey and other foods containing tryptophan, to make you sleepy. Anything to take the edge off their energy.

They were happily eating oatmeal with bananas and raisins when the phone rang. It was Darla.

Hi, have you received official confirmation of the job yet?

Not yet. I stepped into the living room so I didnt have to compete with Elmo on the kitchen television.

Dont worry about it. Youre in. You just havent received the letter yet. Wait until I tell you the latest scuttlebutt. Someone from the Chicago office is going to be transferred to your office in Minneapolis. Im hoping it will be me. Wouldnt that be fun?

Darla loves a juicy bit of idle talk.

One thing I can say about my sister, Mickey, is that she is definitely not a gossip. If I tell her something, it goes nowhere else. She hasnt always been this way but ever since the twins were born, rumor, hearsay and chitchat have been low on her list.

Now I know why. Having a conversation with anyone, especially about something spicy that can divert ones full attention, is an exercise in self-sabotage. It distracts from the job at handkeeping the twins out of mischief.

Suddenly I noticed a deafening silence coming from the kitchen. No Elmo, no boys, nothing.

I have to go. Ive got the boys.

Then why are you talking to me? Im hanging up right now. Her receiver clicked in my ear.

The boys were no longer in the kitchen. Their cereal bowls were abandoned on the floor next to their chairs. Chipper was happily cleaning up the leftovers.

High-pitched giggles from my laundry room told me where the Terrors had gone. After a nasty experience Mickey had had with the boys, a bucket of water and fifteen bars of soap, I had began using up my toxic cleaning supplies and replacing them with all-natural laundry products. Only some powdered laundry soap was left and that was on a high shelf.

But when had high shelves ever stopped the Terrors before?

There arent any shelves high enough to keep the world safe from the Terror Twins. They have the genetic makeup of spider monkeysless-than-complex brains, acrobatic skills, swiftness and the ability to cover large areas by swinging arm over arm across large empty spaces. What makes it all worse is that they, unlike spider monkeys, are also gifted with opposable thumbs. Like the spider monkeys that rarely come down from the treetops in the rainforest, the Terror Twins prefer to live in the rarified atmosphere over the tops of large pieces of furniture, refrigerators, tree houses and bunk beds.

Mickey and Jeff were forced to sell their lovely two-story home last year when they realized that they couldnt prevent the boys from plotting the best way to launch themselves off the second-floor loft to see if they could fly. They now live in a staid rambler, which hasnt helped much. What they really should have done is move into a padded cell for a few years where no one could get hurt.

With a sense of foreboding, I peered into the laundry room.

It didnt look so bad at first, just detergent spread like snowflakes across the room. Tommy and Terry were systematically splashing water from Chippers dog dish with teaspoons onto the floor. Soap and water. Theyd been into much worse things than that.

Of course, I had no idea that wet laundry powder dries to the hardness of concrete.

By the time Jeff arrived to pick up the children, it took everything in me not to drop to my knees and kiss his feet in gratitude.

As we stuffed the kids into their jackets like sausage meats into casings, he gave me a worried look. Are you sure youre going to be able to do this, Suze? Theyre quite a handful.

Its not that. I just didnt get much sleep last night. Well be fine.

He looked doubtful but didnt argue.

I stood in the door and waved as he carried the twins down my front walk. The boys waved sweetly at me and Tommy began sending air kisses my way.

So darling and so exhausting. I have to figure out how to get a good nights rest when I have the guys. Otherwise Ill never make it. I closed the door and sagged, my back against the firm wood. But how?

A human being can survive longer without food than she can without sleep. How long? It appears Im going to find out.

If I board up the window in the twins room, sleep on a cot inside the bedroom door and have my friend Charley come over and seal us in every night, then, perhaps Id be assured that I and the twins would not have nighttime adventures not fit for children. But what if there were a fire? Id also have to hire someone to sleep outside my door to sound the alarm and let us out. And if Im going to do all this, I might as well hire someone else to watch the twins entirely.

The phone rang. It was Darla again. This time there was no chatty preamble. Suze, remember the rumor about someone being transferred into your office from Chicago? Well, its me! She did that high-pitched, for-dogs-only squeal at which preteen girls are so proficient. Can you believe it? Ill get more pay and we can spend lots of time together.

My mouth was working as I tried to get a word in edgewise.

I have to look for a place to live so Im coming in tonight. Can I stay with you until I find something?

Of course you can.

She shrieked again. It will be so fun!

Do you want me to pick you up at the airport?

Ill meet you outside baggage claim at six oclock. Gotta go! Abruptly she hung up and I was left staring at the receiver in my hand.

A wave of gratitude crashed over me and I grew limp with relief. Help would arrive. Darla was coming. She could lend a handor twowhile I had the twins.

Although my family knows how I am, my sister and parents have so long hoped that Id outgrow my disorder that theyve convinced themselves that perhaps I actually have. Maybe I had, too, until my trip to Chicago, the night with the twins, and until I saw Chipper strapped into the toddler seat. Now that Ive committed to taking care of the boys, am I beginning to realize just how little things have changed and how much it has limited my life?

No other bright, successful businesswoman I know avoids travel and hotels, dreads promotions and always buys expensive new pajamas because she never knows where she might be seen in them.

If Dr. GrantI immediately put a stop to that train of thought. I know even he cant help. Ive tried it all at least twice. Of course he had testified in the trials of murderers who suffered with parasomnias. Hes a respected expert. Then a shiver of apprehension ran through me. I was jumping ahead of myself. I didnt even know for which side he testified. He probably helped send them all to jail.

I had mixed feelings when I picked up the mail and found a letter of congratulations on my new job position and a bundle of information they suggested I read while making ready to phase in to the new job as my predecessor phased out.

Be careful what you wish foryou might get it.

On the way to the airport, I stopped at rescue headquarters, a simple, unassuming building that was formerly a family-run service station. It was the best, cheapest location we could find for our last-chance facility. Since volunteers took many of the animals into their homes, we had eked by with limited space. The problem was that every time I stopped by I usually ended up taking home a new foster dog or cat. Sometimes I have four or five furry or feathered miscreants, orphans and runaways in my house at one time. Having only two, Chipper and Hammie, is a rarity for me.

This time, however, would be different. It would be easier to foster a team of sled dogs than my two nephews and there was no way on earth, after I turned Chipper over to his new home, that I would accept another animal until Mickey and Jeff returned.