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“The actor, Tom Cruise—the one who plays Maverick—he has dyslexia. And look at him. He’s the biggest movie star in the world.”
“I don’t want to be a movie star.”
Smelling of her flowery perfume, she leaned close to plant a kiss on the top of my head. “I know, honey. But there are other things you’ll be interested in pursuing, and getting help will make them a lot easier. For example, you’d like to be able to read the recipes without me, right?”
My cheeks flamed with shame. Mama or Atticus always had to read them out loud to me.
“Once we get this all figured out, Mrs. Marley believes you’ll be able to do that much easier than you can now.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Tomorrow, we’ll go in to see the doctor. You’ll take a test and answer some questions and we’ll go from there.” She cupped my chin. “Until then, how would you feel about picking some of our herbs for dinner? I was thinking we’d make some homemade spaghetti sauce tonight.”
I brightened. Cooking with Mama was my favorite thing.
The back door slammed, causing us both to jump. Dad was home.
He came barreling into the kitchen, his face red. Instinctively, I shrank away from him and looked down at the table. Was he angry at me? Had he found out about my troubles at school?
But he seemed not to notice me.
He looked at my mother and me sitting there with the envelope between us. Before I knew what was happening, he had the letter in hand and had torn it open. For a few horrible seconds, we waited while he read the contents. When he finished, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it straight at my head. It bounced off my forehead and onto the table like a wayward meatball in the On Top of Spaghetti song.
"This is nonsense," Dad said to Mama. "You know that, right?"
His narrowed eyes focused on Mama with disdain. "This is just another way for pharmaceutical companies to take our hard-earned money."
"Rex, we can talk about it later," Mama said quietly.
"We'll talk about it now, because there's nothing else to say. I forbid it. He’s not taking some test so they can drug him up within an inch of his life."
"Sweetheart, go to your room," Mama said.
I leaped to my feet, only too happy to escape. But no such luck. Dad grabbed me by the collar and pushed me against the wall. "You're a lazy little cuss who doesn't deserve to be coddled. Isn't that right?"
Mama managed to somehow slip in between Dad and me. He took hold of her shoulders as if to move her but Mama was strong, even though she was small compared to the bulk of my father. I darted out from behind her and ran for the stairs. When I reached the top, I found my oldest brother, Atticus, sitting in the hallway.
I didn't say anything, afraid I might cry again, but I sat down next to him. He put his arm around my shoulder. "You're okay," Atticus whispered.
Voices from downstairs traveled up the stairwell.
"I'll be damned if I let a kid of mine get labeled as stupid."
"That's the point," Mama said. "The medications will help so that he can shine the way he should.”
“He’s not taking some pill,” Dad said. “Final answer.”
“You don’t tell me what to do with my boy.” Mama’s voice was raised, yet had an eerie calm to it. "If I say he goes on the medication, then he goes on medication."
“I'm his father." Another curse word flew from his mouth and made Atticus flinch.
"Really? That's your argument?" Mama asked. "How about you actually stick around at night instead of heading in to the tavern? That's what fathers do. They're present."
"How do I have a chance to be anything to them when you baby them and hover over them? They're sissies because of you."
"Don't you dare call them names. They work this ranch like men, so you don't get to say one word about their characters. While you're running around town with God knows who doing God knows what, they're here helping me to save this ranch."
"There's no saving this place. You're in denial if you think there's anything you can do to make it profitable."
