The Perfect Child(24)

It wasn’t so funny when she popped out of bed as soon as I sat down again. We repeated the routine for the next two hours. Hannah and I took turns bringing her back to bed and laying her down. It grew more and more difficult each time, and eventually, we were practically dragging her there. By one o’clock, we were both exhausted.

“Why don’t you just lie down with her?” Hannah asked. “She’ll probably go to sleep if you’re in there with her.”

“I know, but Piper was adamant about not sleeping with her.”

Piper had stressed the importance of letting her sleep alone because otherwise it would be harder for her to leave when it was time. We were trying to facilitate a smooth transition, not make it more difficult.

“The first night isn’t going to hurt anything, and she’s clearly not going to go to sleep in there alone,” Hannah said.

I shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt.”

Hannah gathered blankets from the linen closet in the hallway.

“What are you doing?” Janie asked, coming out of her room again.

“Christopher is going to sleep on the floor of your bedroom. Will that help you sleep?” she asked. She tried to keep her tone light, but I could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

Janie clapped, her face beaming with excitement. “Yes!”

I helped Hannah carry the blankets into her room, and I made up a pallet on Janie’s floor while Hannah went and grabbed a pillow from our bedroom.

“Janie, lie down and go to sleep,” I said.

She flopped down on her bed without a word.

“Good night,” Hannah whispered, handing me the pillow before tiptoeing out of the room and turning off the light.

I lay on the floor waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, her room came into view. Her small twin-size bed was pushed up against the wall on the right side, and we’d put a rail on the other side of it to keep her from falling out. The comforter was bright yellow with huge pink flowers stamped all over it. Her favorite stuffed animals from the hospital lined her bed. A circular rug with purple and blue stripes filled the center of the room. There was so much we’d wanted to get her, but it didn’t make sense to fill her room with stuff when she was only going to be with us for a short time.

I strained to hear the sounds of her breathing and listened for the weird clicking sound she made in the back of her throat whenever she slept. It seemed like forever before I heard it, but I finally did, and my body slowly relaxed. I closed my eyes and fell asleep immediately.

A sharp smack to my forehead jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open. Janie hovered over me, holding one of her toy trains in her hand. I rubbed my head. There was a lump forming where she’d hit me.

“Janie, did you hit me with your train?” I asked with surprise. My head throbbed in the spot where she’d hit me. Her face was blank, emotionless, an expression I’d never seen her wear before. “You cannot hit me. It hurts when you hit me.”

She just stared at me in the dark. The night-light cast an eerie shadow on her face. She raised her arm like she was going to hit me again. I grabbed her arm. “Give me the train,” I said.

“No!” she screamed and pulled her arm free.

“Janie, give me the train. You can’t hit people with your toys.” I kept my voice steady.

She shook her head.

“You need to get back in your bed, and I don’t want you to take your train with you because you hit me with it.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits, her pint-size body full of challenge. In one swift movement, she threw the train at me and took off, bolting out the door. I threw off my blankets and chased after her. She ran into the family room and tore the cushions off the couch, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Hannah raced out of our bedroom. “What’s going on?” she asked as she watched Janie tear through the room.

“I think she had a nightmare,” I said.

Hannah ran toward her as she grabbed the candles on the coffee table and smashed them onto the floor. “Janie, stop!”

Her face was contorted in rage. She ripped off her clothes, shaking in her diaper. Her fists clenched at her sides. She eyed the room, looking for something else to destroy. Hannah stepped cautiously toward her like Janie was a feral cat. She crouched down in front of her.

“It’s okay, honey. You’re okay,” she said softly. She grabbed Janie, encircling her small body with her arms. Janie kicked and screamed against her. Suddenly, she plunged her teeth into Hannah’s arm just like she’d done to me before. Hannah yelled and instinctively let go. Janie took off again, this time running into the kitchen.

We followed her. She had flipped over one of the barstools and was standing in front of the refrigerator, pounding on it. She grew even more frustrated when the refrigerator wouldn’t open and threw herself down on the floor. She flipped around, and before we knew it, she was bashing her head violently against the floor. We rushed to her side. Rhonda had instructed us on the importance of keeping her from hurting herself during her tantrums and shown us some holding techniques.

“Grab her,” Hannah said, lurching into action. She tried to grab Janie’s legs, but Janie writhed and moved around, making it almost impossible to grab her and keep her still. It was easier for me to grab her upper body and twist her arms behind her back the way we’d practiced with Rhonda.