The Enumerations Read online

  Her brother nods and hauls himself to his feet.

  12.

  2011

  ‘Families, religions and traditions.’

  ‘This is going to a fun project,’ Miss Khan said, in that chirpy voice that never faltered, not even when the whole class groaned and Kyle Blake sniggered behind his hand. She ignored him and the laughter that rippled along the back row.

  Noah glanced down at page 60 in his Life Orientation book. There was a picture of a family eating a meal, and alongside it a list of questions about mealtimes in the home, but that wasn’t what Miss Khan was talking about. She was writing on the whiteboard, red letters stark against white.

  Family Tree

  ‘It’s so important,’ Miss Khan said, ‘to know who we are and where we come from.’ She scribbled a few sentences on the board.

  How well do you know your family history?

  Knowing about your family can help you understand who you are.

  And underneath that, their two-week project.

  Researching my family.

  ‘Go as far back as you can. As far back as your grandparents, if that’s possible. Ask them where they came from, where their parents came from. Maybe they’ll even be able to tell you about their grandparents. Collect every bit of detail – it’s all useful. Find out where they were born and how many brothers and sisters they had. Did they all stay in one place or settle somewhere else. What jobs did they do? When did they get married? How many children did they have? See what stories they have to tell you about how things were when they were young, and how much things have changed since then.’ Miss Khan smiled at them cheerily, unaware of the turmoil brewing in one of her student’s minds.

  ‘Then I want you to write a short paragraph saying what was easy and what was difficult to find out.’

  More groans from the class, but Noah had stopped listening. His tree was taking shape in his mind. Laden with fruit, but only on one side. The thin shoot on the other side was completely bare.

  Part of the reason why Charles Darwin wrote The Origin of the Species was to demonstrate that certain conditions are necessary for evolution or change to happen. Now, thanks to Miss Khan, Noah needed to establish how he had evolved.

  He already knew part of his mother’s family story. Their surname was Cilliers, Huguenots who’d fled to the Netherlands to escape religious persecution. They’d formed part of the first group of emigrants to sail from there, arriving in South Africa in the late 1600s and settling on land in Franschhoek – the French Corner. All he needed were the names and dates of their descendants, all recorded in their Family Bible.

  In as much time as it took to eat a sandwich, Noah came to understand his position on the Cilliers’ family tree. But he is only half-explained. As is Maddie, for that matter.

  When he looks at himself in the mirror he sees how green his eyes are. His hair is dark, almost black, but nowhere near as curly as Maddie’s. As far as he knows, she’s also the only one in the family with dimples, a genetic trait that must have come from somewhere.

  The branches on his mother’s side are like vines, heavy with grapes, but what about his father’s, which bear so little? Just two fruits there, Noah and Maddie, and he doesn’t know how they were formed.

  13.

  At home, Dominic’s desk is clear of papers and the walls of his study are lined with shelves carrying an assortment of books. ‘The library’, he and Kate called it when they first moved into the house, but over the years, as Dominic brought home more and more work, it became his space alone. His children know not to disturb him when he’s working and to knock before opening the door.

  It’s where he is now, legs outstretched, gazing out over his garden, thinking about his son.

  Noah, who will not move until he’s counted the right number of things the right number of times. Who will stay rooted to the spot for no discernible reason and have to touch his lips and his cheeks five times before he can move again. Who, once he’s moving, has to count his steps, stop at each corner, tap the wall five times.

  It’s been over a year since Noah has eaten with them. He finds it impossible to be at a table where things aren’t placed exactly as they should be. So now he eats alone, after they’ve all finished, with Kate flapping around him. ‘All right, Noah?’ she asks, over and over. If she’s lucky, she’ll get a nod in response.

  When it’s time to leave for school, Noah will be doing one of two things: standing next to the car, tapping his foot anxiously and looking at his watch, waiting for Maddie to get there, or making them late because he’s still in his room, counting—

  Counting God-knows-what.

  Some days, Kate will come to the front door and shrug helplessly. ‘Just go,’ she’ll call. Those are the days when Noah hasn’t been able to count his way out of his room. He’ll be standing frozen, because something, somehow, hasn’t tallied in his mind. Or otherwise he’ll be circling, his eyes darting from object to object, counting fives aloud, repeating them over and over as he almost spins. On days like that there’s no point saying they’ll wait for him. It can take hours before he’s worked himself free of whatever mistake he’s made that forbids him to move before he’s corrected it.

  ‘Have a good day, darling,’ Kate will call to Maddie. ‘Bye, Dom,’ and he’ll see that she’s frantic to get back inside, see what help she can offer her distressed son. Kate’s so caught up in all of this, he barely recognises her. She’s far from the sunny, spirited woman she was before …

  Before Noah. Dominic despises himself for thinking of it this way, and he would never say it aloud, but it’s what he thinks when he looks at his son.

  In the days when they’d all sat down to meals together, Noah would enter the dining room and do a quick three-sixty. It had taken Dominic every ounce of restraint not to yell, What does it matter? What does it matter if the chairs are pushed in or pulled out, or the knives are this close or that close to the plates and the water jug’s in the centre of the table? And why, for God’s sake, is it such an issue if we have spinach, even though your mother said we’d be having peas?

  When he sees his son walking to the car, head bent, he knows he’s doing that wretched counting. When he’s putting out the rubbish, filling the dogs’ water bowls, walking to a chair in the living room to watch the news, he counts every step. So yes, even Dominic, the father who finds it impossible to buy in to the need for ongoing therapy – for all the good it does, Kate – knows that his son counts in fives. It’s a bit bloody hard not to. He also knows he can’t simply tell him to snap out of it or beg him to stop.

  And at this point, four therapists down, it’s not because Dominic is worried about hurting Noah’s feelings. No, the reason is mean; spiteful even, you might say – Kate certainly would. Dominic cannot interrupt his son when he is counting because if he does, the counting will start from scratch. If Noah’s thrown even slightly off balance, he’ll begin all over again, leaving Maddie and Dominic waiting for him at the car – or leaving without him.

  So Dominic never interrupts his son, and if eating alone is easier for Noah, that’s fine with him.

  Does he love him?

  Does Dominic love his son?

  He does. Of course he does. But truth be told – truth absolute, deep, dark and shameful – Dominic couldn’t be more relieved that Noah is going to Greenhills.

  14.

  A man arrives and bangs on the door and Mum jumps up from her chair. Gabriel races out of the sitting room. It’s going to be Dad! He knows it. He just knows it. But when he opens it, he sees it’s a short round man with a smiley face and twinkly eyes. Is your mother home, son? he asks. His voice is fat and jolly, the sort Father Christmas might have if Gabriel ever heard him speak. But this Father Christmas hasn’t arrived with a bag full of presents for children who have been nice. He may have a list, and he may be checking it twice, but that’s only because he needs to be sure he hasn’t missed anything.

  You’d be surprised, he says in his S
anta voice. You’d be surprised, Mrs Felix, what people try to get away with. But my eyes are all-seeing, so no funny stuff please, no squirrelling away.

  So no, no presents for Harry and Gabriel, even though they’ve been so good for Mum. Instead, Father Christmas is taking items away, packing them into a large van. Where’s he taking everything, Gabriel wonders. Will he wait for Christmas Eve, hitch his reindeers to his sleigh and sweep across the skies, looking for a family who needs them more than they do?

  How that can be possible, though, Gabriel isn’t sure. Because now there is hardly anything in the house and Mum’s on her knees, she’s staring at the wall where the TV cabinet used to be and crying, I don’t know what to do. Where can we go? What am I supposed to do? And then she’s screaming and yelling and calling his father’s name. What am I to do, Joe? How are we going to survive?

  There’s a stuttering cough outside, the sort Mum’s car makes when she’s trying to start it, and she runs to the window. My car, she’s screaming. I need my car, you bastards. She crumples over again. She lies on the floor for what seems like hours. Gabriel wonders if she’ll ever get up.

  Much later, Gabriel hears her voice. That’s it, Joe. We’ll have to go to him. There’s nothing else I can do.

  She’s talking to Dad, but there’s no answer because he isn’t there.

  15.

  There’s more, much more, that Noah can and can’t do, will and won’t do; trying to make a full list is something Dominic just doesn’t have the energy for.

  In the early days, when Kate heard about ‘Obsessive Compulsive Disorder’, she sent links to Dominic. He read numerous articles, learnt that OCD ‘presents in a number of ways’. Noah might be compulsive about cleanliness, for example, washing his hands and body parts in a ritual way. Dominic watched his son’s hand twisting the tap one, two, three, four, five times before opening it fully. After that, Noah would check his watch, wash briskly, check his watch again and record the time. End of story.

  Counting and balancing, timing and re-timing, tapping out five when things become ultra-stressful, those are Noah’s main things. Counting, checking, balancing. The irony isn’t lost on Dominic. That’s pretty much how he operates – checking and balancing, weighing future risks against the current climate, seeing how robust the economy is, what it will tolerate.

  In the masses of material Kate forwarded, Dominic learnt how OCD reveals itself, the numerous other ways his son’s condition might have manifested.

  There are the Counters, who add and subtract and weigh and measure and line things up and need to make sure that every minute in a day is accounted for.

  The Washer-Cleaners, who are petrified of contamination.

  The Prayers, who fear the destruction that will rain down if they deviate from various sets of self-manufactured observances and strictures.

  The Destroyers, who can’t take a step for fear of the death or destruction they will cause to others.

  The Sexually Obsessed, whose thoughts sicken and shame them.

  The Scrupulous, who are anxious of failing, ethically, morally or religiously.

  The OCD Hoarders, who can’t throw anything away, not even empty cans or egg boxes.

  ‘For people with OCD, seemingly small things become far more important than interpersonal relationships.’ The more he reads, the more Dominic realises that fear is the determining factor, the common denominator. Fear, uncontrollable and irrational, controlling and dominating. Fear that if everything isn’t just so, the consequences will be catastrophic.

  Noah’s life is almost completely governed by rules and regulations that Dominic cannot even begin to understand. In the beginning, he tried. Now, though, the frustration that rises in him as he waits for his son to get to the car, to quit arranging the utensils on the kitchen counter, to stop looking at his watch every time the car stops at a traffic light, is almost insurmountable. Yet he knows that telling Noah to shut his mouth so he doesn’t have to listen to him counting under his breath, have to hear the f-f-fuh that precedes the word ‘five’ before it exits his son’s mouth, would only make things worse for everyone.

  ‘We have to try and understand,’ Kate says. ‘It’s so tough for him, Dom.’

  One day Kate tells him she won’t be sending him any more links. One of the therapists Noah is seeing – his third, or his second, Dominic isn’t sure – tells Kate to stop. ‘A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, Mrs Groome,’ she is told.

  ‘Basically he’s saying, “Leave it to the experts, Mrs Groome.”’ Kate’s face is flushed. ‘In other words, don’t you worry your silly little head about it!’

  Dominic doesn’t respond. He’s relieved. Hopefully it means there’ll be fewer after-dinner conversations about whether Noah is manifesting a symptom that Kate has read about in some online journal. All he has to do now is pay the latest bills and wonder if the money he sends off for every session is doing any good whatsoever. For as far as he can see, Noah is getting worse. Not that he shares this with Kate. He won’t do anything to exacerbate the anxiety that is affecting his wife.

  All he says is, ‘Well, Kate, he might have a point. Perhaps we just need to focus on being his parents.’ His response is deliberately mild.

  Even so, she still looks hurt, but Dominic’s used to that. When it comes to Noah, Kate’s like a long-wave radio station and Dominic can never quite pick up on her frequency.

  16.

  2011

  ‘Maybe there’s something we can learn, Dom?’

  Noah paused outside the dining-room door.

  ‘Noah may be on to something. If we did some research, found other members of your family, we might come across information that would help. With Noah, I mean.’

  ‘I’ve told you, Kate, this isn’t up for discussion.’

  ‘But, Dom …’ His mother wasn’t giving up. ‘Remember that article I sent you? The one that says OCD’s linked to all sorts of factors. Family history, even.’

  Noah could have told her that. Though there was nothing conclusive to prove that OCD could be heritable – not yet – couldn’t his Dad see? Who he was, who he came from, made Noah who he was.

  Ever since the first therapist mentioned those words: ‘obsessive’ and ‘compulsive’, Noah had been reading too. Not that everything was fully founded or researched, but still worth thinking about.

  First, there were 5 key words he’d identified:

  1.Obsession and everything linked to it.

  –Intrusive, recurring, unwanted, uncontrollable, urges, thoughts, anxiety, distress. ()

  –All the things to worry about: germs, illness, death; fear of awful things happening, fear of doing something wrong, desperation if things aren’t just right. Fear of hurting others … ()

  2.Compulsion and everything linked to it.

  –Everything you have to do (in the strictest, meanest, most domineering way) to purge the worry, prevent ‘catastrophe’. ()

  3.Checking and rechecking; excessive repetition in order to get things absolutely right, starting over if they aren’t. Ordering and arranging. Relying on important words or numbers. () (The more his list of ‘must-dos’ grew, the more time it stole from his day, but he couldn’t stop.)

  4.Triggers. People who’ve experienced bullying (), abuse or neglect might develop OCD. Sometimes it starts after an important incident, a bereavement or a traumatic event ().

  5.Personality. People who develop OCD often tend to be: – neat ()

  –meticulous ()

  –methodical ()

  –concerned about high personal standards ()

  –anxious, often with a very strong sense of responsibility for themselves and others (, and )

  And then there was the stuff he couldn’t talk about. His mother filled his previous therapists in on what had happened, but Noah hadn’t been able to say a word. The Dark wouldn’t let him, it forced him to keep it secret.

  And you know why, don’t you? Don’t give anything away. You’d do well to remember
that.

  ‘Kate. It’s a dead end. I’ve tried.’ Noah heard a chair scraping back and ducked into the sitting room.

  ‘Dom. Darling. Where are you going?’

  ‘For a run.’

  When his mother saw him a few minutes later, she tried to smile. ‘Noah. Everything all right?’

  No, he wanted to say, it’s not. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was. If Noah was doing a balancing act, trying to keep his family safe, his mother was too. Noah and his ‘condition’; his father’s silence and anger; his little sister who just wanted to be an ordinary kid. His mother was doing everything she could just to keep the family whole.

  If Noah could find out more about his father and his ancestors, he’d learn why he looked the way he did, or if there were other Groomes who’d had Maddie’s curls and dimples. Even more, though, if he could establish why he was, as well as what he was, that might help his family. Dogged persistence was the only way forward. And if anyone was an expert at that, it was Noah.

  Noah couldn’t say any of this to his mother, he didn’t want to let on that he knew what she and his father had discussed. What he could do, though, was walk up to her and pat her on the shoulder. 5 quick pats.

  17.

  Noah’s mother often talks about ‘before’.

  ‘He wasn’t like this before,’ he’d heard her say to therapist 2 at their initial consultation. ‘Before’ is part of Noah’s history. It goes into the notes when Kate goes in alone to talk about Noah and what he’s like to live with and how he’s changed and why.

  ‘If you could just talk about it, darling’, she urged before each session, but Noah’s tapping fingers ensured his lips stayed sealed.

  18.

  2011

  ‘Right then, we’re onto the gs and hs.’ Mrs Simpson ran her pen down the class register as she picked the debate teams for the following week. ‘That means Janice Garrett, Zoe Glynn and Noah Groome, you’ll be Team One. Nicholas Guthrie, Lungelo Hadebe, Peter Harper, Team Two.’