Chapter 2: Babylon

The child alone a poet is:

Spring and Fairyland are his.

Truth and Reason show but dim,

And all's poetry with him.

-Robert Graves, "Babylon"

"Very good, Quinn, I like the steeple on your church."

Quinn grinned, flicking her ponytail back over her shoulder. She held her paper up to her Sunday School teacher, pointing to the figures marching through the door.

"That's me going into the church with God."

"I like it, Quinn. Five more minutes and then we'll have a snack."

The rest of the children cheered, and the teacher leaned across the table to where Quincy was diligently working on his own assignment – a crayon illustration of God's love.

"What are you drawing, Quincy?"

Quincy bashfully rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "It isn't really good."

"Oh, I'm sure it's wonderful, Quincy. Let's see."

Quincy flipped his paper upwards, smiling expectantly at the teacher. She turned her head to the side, looking a little confused. Quincy had drawn a puppy stumbling over its paws to catch a frisbee.

"Now how does that show God's love, Quincy?"

Quincy frowned. "I throw God a frisbee," he mumbled.

The teacher giggled slightly, opening her mouth to speak, but Quinn beat her to it.

"Quincy, you're supposed to draw God, not dog. God is a man in the sky. Dogs are furry and they eat bones."

"Eat bones?" Quincy whispered, and stiffened. He looked down at his drawing, horrified.

"No, no, Quincy, no..." the teacher rushed, running to Quincy's side. Tears were welling in his green eyes.

"Dog eat bones?"

"They chew on bones, Quincy, yes."

Quincy's lower lip trembled slightly. He paused, then began again, seriously and quietly.

"God eat bones?"

"How could you ask your teacher something like that, Quincy? What were you thinking?" Russell railed, pounding on the steering wheel.

The impact of his angry fists reverberated throughout their minivan, and his shouts seemed to echo off the walls. Judy fingered her collar nervously, shooting a quick glance into the backseat. There was Quincy, her precious boy, pushing himself as far back into his seat as he could, as if in doing so he could make himself disappear. She wanted nothing more than to pull the car over, to get out and hug Quincy so tight that he would forget all the yelling and the screaming.

She found she could not move.

"God and dog, Quincy?" Russell continued. "How the hell could you mix that up? How? How?"

"I don't know, Daddy, I..."

"How old are you?"

Quincy's mouth fell open, and he started stammering. "T... t... tree?"

"Not tree, dammit, three. And it's about damn time you started acting like it!"

Judy ran a hand through her hand, ready to quietly interject. "Russell, I really think that..."

"Quinn, how old are you?" he barked.

"Three years old, Daddy," she responded quietly, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Can you count?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Can you read?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"The letters all mix up sometimes!" cried Quincy. Charlotte, in the seat next to him, quietly reached out and took hold of his hand. "I can't tell what the letters is!"

"What the letters are, stupid!"

"The letter R?"

Russell let out an infuriated scream and smacked the dashboard.

"Russell!" Judy interrupted sharply. He roared furiously in response. She shrank back into her seat, glancing back at her children once more while trembling uncontrollably.

Charlotte was stroking Quincy's hand, murmuring encouragement into his ear. Quinn had grabbed hold of her twin's other hand. Quincy, all the while, closed his eyes and squeezed his sisters' hands, as if willing himself to be smarter, more clever, better at numbers and letters.

"Okay, Quincy, now you gotta get in the batting stance here," Russell said, bending carefully over his boy. In front of them was an awe-inspiring baseball diamond filled with fifteen other preschoolers and their fathers. One child stood on the pitcher's mound, silently picking his nose.

"What I do?" mumbled Quincy.

"What do you do, you mean. You wanna spread your feet just a little wider than your shoulders, you wanna stand at this angle to the pitcher. Make sure you put a little more weight on the back foot, and don't let your heels touch the ground, now."

Quincy was twitching at bat, moving rapidly to follow his dad's directions. His feet practically danced across home plate.

"Keep your head steady, knees flexed. You wanna tuck your chin into your front shoulder."

"Daddy, I can't do it," whined Quincy.

"Just shut up and listen," growled Russell. He forcefully pushed Quincy's head into his shoulder.

"Ow, Daddy!"

"Just bend your elbows and make sure your back elbow is about eight inches behind your body. All right, now. Swing!"

Quincy gritted his teeth and swung hard at the ball perched atop the rubber tube right in front of him. His bat sailed out into the midfield. The baseball didn't budge.

"Were you even listening to a word I said?" Russell hissed, shoving Quincy forward. "What's wrong with you?"

"There's so much to member."

"Re-member," Russell corrected Quincy, and then mumbled under his breath. "Grow a brain."

As they walked back to the car at the end of practice, Quincy dragged his bat through the dirt.

"Daddy?" Quincy asked, squinting up into the sun.

"What is it, son?"

"Daddy, I don't wanna play t-ball no more."

"Any more." Russell took a swig from his beer and pushed Quincy forward a few paces. "And no, you don't get to quit. Sports build character."

"But Daddy, I wanna play Barbie," Quincy insisted. "With Quinn and Jesse."

Russell froze where he stood. "You're telling me you'd rather be at home playing Barbies with your sister and that scrawny little kid from next door?"

"What's a scrawny?"

"It's everything that you're not going to be, son," Russell said, crouching down to meet his son at eye level. "You're going to grow up to be tough and strong, and you can't do that if you play Barbies with your sister."

"But Quinn's dollies is fun!" Quincy stuck out his bottom lip, insistent.

Russell grabbed the collar of Quincy's jersey, pulling him forward. "Now, you listen to me. You're going to play baseball and you're going to like it, you understand? No son of mine plays Barbies."

He stood up, pushing Quincy backwards. "Daddy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Just get in the damn car," Russell growled, fumbling with the keys to get the door open.

The twins stuffed all of Quincy's black shirts into the crack under the door so their parents wouldn't notice that they still had the lights on. Quinn and Quincy had rigged a fort between Quinn's bed and her dresser. A soft yellow light glowed from underneath their makeshift tents, illuminating their silhouettes. In near silence they worked on Quinn's numerous Barbies, making the dolls put on swimsuits and prom dresses and kilts.

"Oh no, I'm late to meet the prince," whispered Quincy, forcing his astronaut Barbie into the Dream Car. "This Jeep take you to Mars, Barbie, no worry."

Quinn sighed, laying down her Swan Lake Barbie, which was clad in a pristine white tutu. "Cars can't travel through space, Quincy. You need a rocketship."

"But Barbie needs to get to her space wedding on Mars on time," Quincy mumbled. He tried to fit a fluffy white wedding dress over Barbie's space helmet.

"Mars is the planet of war," Quinn nodded, in that all-knowing way of hers. "They should get married on Venus. Venus is the planet of love."

"Venus made of gas," Quincy realized, suddenly worried. "They can't walk down the island. There's no place to put their feet!"

"The island?" Quinn giggled. "You mean the aisle. That's the row that goes right down the middle of the church."

Quincy sighed, and laid his Barbie down. "I wish I could stop talking all wrong."

"It's not that hard, Quincy. I know you'll get it one day."

"Letters get mixed up in my head," Quincy sighed, poking at Barbie's horse. "Like with God and dog. I don't know where the right letters go. I'm so dumb."

Quinn sighed, reaching out for Quincy's hand. "I don't think you're dumb."

Quincy wriggled free of Quinn's grasp. "But I am. Just like Daddy says."

"No, you're just different. Don't listen to what Daddy says."

Quinn picked up a Barbie and started chattering excitedly, holding up pink dresses to try on. Quincy was lost in thought, filtering aimlessly through Barbie's outfits until he found a tiny baseball jersey.