The Battered Heiress Blues

13





Mattie and I spent our days romping through the big house, finding new ways to play with old objects that belonged to my mom. He loved to take things apart. We spent several days dismantling an old typewriter. Then, we broke down a beat up radio that no longer worked. He was very good with screwdrivers. As each piece was removed, he laid it out to the side in some order that I didn’t understand. His typical inventory was left undisturbed. We simply stepped over the pieces as we moved through the rooms. This mechanical work usually occupied our mornings.

After lunch, we would take a walk to the chapel. I would try to organize my thoughts and pray as he ran through each pew. I prayed for that little boy with so much heart and conviction that I was almost brought to tears on occasions. Sometimes, after my prayers, we’d go in to the cemetery to sit with Connor and my mom. While I held down the bench, with my ever growing girth, Mattie would step into the fountain and walk in circles around the statue of Jesus. The fountain had become almost coin-free thanks to him. He didn’t like them cluttering up the bottom. I thought about getting some fish, but I wasn’t sure if the change would go over well.

Therapy consumed our afternoons. The evenings that he stayed over were special to me. We’d pop popcorn and I’d watch old movies while he colored in his sketch pad. Before mid way though the flick, he’d be sound asleep on a mountain of crayons in my bed. I lay next to him, watching his chest rise and fall, envisioning a life full of adventure and love for us all. Gabe had placed his happiness in the palms of this little boy’s hands. Apart from Mattie, he would have no joy. His contentment with Mattie’s current level of functioning made me admire him all the more. The same big dreams that I held for Connor, I now held for Mattie.

I was still unclear as to why a good God would inflict such a mystery on an innocent child. Gabe was in a better place of acceptance than me. I was struggling to find peace with losing Connor. I was still sad and depressed, but I was fighting the good fight, and getting on with life for the sake of the baby. Gabe trudged through difficulties every day. Nothing was ever easy with Mattie, but Gabe continued to remain strong and assured of better days ahead. I was starting to believe that Mattie would come back to us. I prayed night after night for God to unlock his world. Was he hearing me? Would he see him amongst all the other hurts and sorrows of the world and heal this one particular boy? I was betting on a miracle.

Horse therapy was interesting. I had been taking Mattie for several weeks. The horse trainer was wonderful with the kids, but I didn’t love the therapist. I voiced my concerns to Gabe, but he brushed me off, telling me that he’d investigated her credentials and equine therapy was proven to be helpful for autistic children. I was very much a skeptic, based on her disposition.

There were about ten kids in his therapy class with varying degrees of autism. From first impressions, I would say that Mattie’s struggle fell somewhere in the middle. Two of them could verbally communicate with others while another two, on the other end of the spectrum only had the capability of non-verbal communication.

Mattie was able to meaningfully engage in play, although it was usually by himself. He seemed to find his own environment interesting even if he chose not to interact with the outside world. He was able to communicate his needs by banging his cup on the kitchen counter or by standing in front of a cabinet that held an object he desired. If he didn’t want to participate in an activity, he disconnected from the situation and went inside himself.

Mattie was in there somewhere. This was never more evident to me than when we fed the birds. I could never give him the bread fast enough. He would toss piece after piece and stand still until the birds landed on the sand. Once they drew close, he would chase them up and down the beach, delighting in their flight. I knew he was smiling on the inside. Perhaps with his therapy, he’d be able to tell us someday.

After four weeks of smooth sailing in the horse arena, Friday’s therapy did not go as planned. Mattie had decided, before we even left the house, that he had no interest in going. He gave Gabe trouble when he tried to dress him and he hit his hand against the car window as we passed the ice cream parlor. I didn’t know whether to pull over or just try to make it to the farm as quickly as I could. I tried to appease him by promising to take him for ice cream after his ride. The overture did little to detour his actions.

When we finally arrived, he refused to get out of the car. The therapist walked over, trying to discover why we were holding up her class. She tried to coax him out, but he wouldn’t cooperate. I was severely out of my element. Never having known a child with autism, I had little experience in knowing how to motivate him to achieve a positive outcome. I had even less experience and success with behavior modification techniques. Getting people, like Henry, to do what I wanted wasn’t really my strong suit. I had a poor track record.

Bribing him again with a trip to the ice cream store didn’t do the trick. I honestly felt bad for sinking to those depths. I could easily remember times, even still as an adult, when I didn’t want to do things either. Bribery never moved me to act as others expected, if I truly believed in my opposition to the task. Why was it not possible that Mattie just didn’t feel like riding this particular day? His feelings seemed reasonable. He had participated in all the other therapy sessions; he wasn’t just being obstinate. On this day, he wasn’t up to it and I could feel his pain. Wasn’t the boy entitled to one day off?

The therapist became impatient with both of us. Legally, she explained that she wasn’t allowed to physically pull him out of my car. She informed me that physical correction was the sole responsibility of the parent. She instructed me to pull him out and then she and her staff would take it from there. I didn’t like how that sounded.

I noticed one of the other moms dragging her son, kicking and screaming, across the parking lot. The sight of their interaction bothered me greatly. The mom probably didn’t feel like she had a choice with the therapist touting her opinions so freely. Using intimidation and the need for conformity, the therapist had every parent falling in line with her way of thinking; everyone, but me, of course.

Unfortunately for her, I didn’t have the years of sorrow that were wrapped up in both heartache and hope. I’m sure that everyone wanted Mattie to reach his full potential. I think we differed on the most advantageous way to go about that. Even with him refusing to cooperate and clutching the door handle, as if his life depended on remaining in my car, I loved him. The therapist was letting her expectations get in the way of unconditional love. If Mattie could solve this, he would.

Whatever happened to meeting people on their level? We make decisions for our lives based on the goods that we have stored in our soul. If the goods are pure, we positively enrich the lives of those around us. If the goods are tainted, we bring misery to the world. Mattie was pure. He enriched Gabe’s life. He enriched my life. Understanding his level of functioning only made his gift that much more precious. Then there are the tainters- people like Jackson. He made crappy choices intentionally because he was a crappy person. His goods were directed to better his own existence, regardless of the personal cost to the world around him. There are good people and there are Jackson people. Mattie was good- a real treasure. Jackson was a tainted scumbag. My condemnation of him probably meant that I fell somewhere in between.

The therapist began to get visibly upset. Her face became strained. She gritted her teeth and balled her fists as they rested at her sides. We were standing next to one another, a few feet from the car, giving Mattie the space he needed to avoid feeling threatened.

“You need to pull him out of the car,” she demanded angrily as she stepped toward the open door.

“You need to step back,” I said as I wedged myself between her and Mattie.

“He needs to know that he doesn’t have a choice about participating in therapy.”

“But he does have a choice,” I protested.

“No he doesn’t. He’s a child.”

“He’s a child with a choice,” I corrected.

She lunged past me and began trying to peel his fingers from the door handle. Mattie became agitated and started rocking and turning his head from side to side.

“Take your hands off him…now,” I demanded.

“All you’re doing is setting low expectations for him.”

“Lady, you’ve already met my low expectations quota for the day. Remove your hands from his fingers if you’d like to keep them.”

“I can’t hold off this lesson any longer. The other parents have their children ready.”

“Don’t let us keep you.”

“I’m calling Sheriff Martin.”

“Do you need the number?”

“You’re only hurting him by allowing this. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“The only thing I know for sure is that you won’t be hurting him today. As far as knowing what I’m doing; I can assure you that I have no idea, but love covers a multitude of sins.”

She stormed off and disappeared into the indoor arena. Mattie was still rocking as I knelt down and stroked his cheek.

“How would you feel about bird therapy today, Little Man? Would you like to go to the beach and feed the birds with me?”

After a silent stand off, Mattie let go of the door handle and sat back, grabbing a hold of his seat belt strap. I closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side wondering if I needed to call Gabe myself, before the mean and nasty therapist beat me to the punch. Regardless, I had no intention of forcing Mattie to participate in horse therapy or any other kind of therapy- not on my watch. Even if Gabe asked, I wouldn’t pull him out of the car and drag him across the lot, kicking and screaming. There was something inhumane in that option.

Mattie eagerly got out of the car at the beach. I sat at the water’s edge allowing the waves to crash against my feet. I was starting to gain weight and the loose dresses I wore weren’t going to hide my belly for much longer. After thirty minutes of chasing the birds, we decided to tackle some ice cream. I was starving- a common, daily complaint for me.

The ice cream parlor was crowded. There wasn’t an available parking space in the lot. We parked at the business next door and walked over. As I opened the parlor door to allow Mattie to enter, he ran past all the people waiting in line to view the various flavors offered for the day. He pushed himself between two women and started banging on the display case. The woman’s face soured and she started to scold him. I interceded quickly but Mattie wouldn’t budge from his spot. She looked back at me as I walked up behind him.

“Your kid could use some manners.”

“He’s a child. What’s your excuse?”

“You’re just as rude as he is.”

Another day, at another time, I would have pounced on this woman with every catty word in my repertoire, but not in front of Mattie. A lady, standing further down the line, but still in front of the case, motioned for us to move in front of her. Mattie still wouldn’t move. As it became time for the line to move forward, I waved people ahead of us until the nice lady was behind us.

“I’m sorry. Thank you for being so nice. Mattie has autism. He doesn’t quite get the concept of waiting yet. It’s something we need to work on.”

“No problem. Don’t worry about it.”

People didn’t usually surprise me. Maybe I’m not as much of an optimist as I should be. I expected the cranky customer to rear her ugly head and try to steal our joy, but the nice lady full of compassion made me take pause. God seemed to send me those small glimmers of hope for encouragement.

Finally, it was our turn to order. Gabe had instructed me to stick to buying Mattie vanilla cones, but what is vanilla? How would he ever learn about the world eating only vanilla? I started buying a new flavor each trip. He didn’t care for pistachio, but that was good to know. He loved blue cotton candy. Who would have thought? Today we would try another new flavor. The man approached and asked for our order.

“I’ll have a chocolate turtle milkshake and this young man would like a scoop of mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone.”

As soon as I placed the order, Mattie became agitated. He started to bang on the display case and shook his head no. I felt the stares of everyone in the long line, mentally willing us to wrap it up and move forward to pay. Again, Mattie wouldn’t budge. The man asked again if I wanted to order something different. How did I know? I knelt down to Mattie and asked if he wanted some other flavor. He continued to tap his finger on the case.

“Just tell me what you want Mattie and we’ll get it. I don’t understand.”

The man’s head turned to take in the anxious looks of the waiting customers. I was beginning to feel a little self-conscience myself.

“Just go ahead and give us the mint chocolate chip, please.”

When the man turned to grab the cone, Mattie tugged my arm. As I turned, he opened his mouth to speak his first words.

“Blue. Blue. Blue.”

“What did you say?” I stared into his face and felt tears pooling in my eyes.

“Blue. Blue. Blue,” he said as he pointed to the display case.

I threw my arms around him and squeezed him so hard. He didn’t hug me back. He just pushed me off of him and continued to say the word blue. No one understood my pure happiness over hearing that one glorious word. I was privileged to be the first to hear his beautiful voice. I stood up and addressed the employee.

“Give him a scoop of blue cotton candy in a cone, please.”

I wiped away the tears that rolled down my cheek as I pulled out my phone to text Gabe. I wasn’t sure what to write. What if he got to the parlor and Mattie said nothing. I typed 9-1-1 ice cream store. After the man handed me my milkshake and we paid, I sat to wait for Gabe’s arrival. Mattie wouldn’t leave the display case. He stood there eating his ice cream cone as patrons passed him in line.

I heard the sounds of sirens approaching and thought that it might not have been the best idea to text him that message. His sport utility came to a screeching halt and he flew through the front door, as I stood to greet him. He looked harried and upset.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter.”

“You texted me 9-1-1, Jewels.”

He looked mad as he scanned the room for his son.

“Mattie is fine, but something has happened…something wonderful. That’s why I texted you 9-1-1.”

“What? Have you been crying?”

“Never mind me. Come here.”

I pulled him over to Mattie who had just finished his cone and was banging on the display case for more.

“Tell Mattie that you’re going to order him a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone.”

“What? Why?”

“Trust me. Just do it.”

Gabe looked at the next person in line and asked politely if he could cut in line. The man shook his head yes.

“Can I get my son a mint chocolate chip single scoop cone, please?” He looked to me, standing beside him, as he ordered, wondering why he was humoring me with this ridiculous request.

Mattie became agitated again. “Blue. Blue. Blue,” he shouted as he tapped the display case. Turning to face Gabe, with no particular attachment, he said, “Dad.”

Gabe looked at me in shock, his mouth hanging open, unable to speak. All I could do was shake my head and hold my arms up in front of me, mirroring his same disbelief. He pulled me to him, hugging me tightly as we laughed and cried. When I broke his hold and pulled us apart, he kissed me. It wasn’t a lover’s kiss. It was a kiss of convenience with no passion; the release after a build up of emotions that the mind is unable to sustain. The meeting of our lips was alien to me. He wasn’t Henry.

“I’m sorry, Jewels. I got caught up in the moment. I don’t know why I did that.”

“I’m pregnant.”

I don’t know why I blurted out such a stupid thing during such a momentous occasion. I guess it was a defense mechanism. I couldn’t handle any complications in my already messed up life.

“I’m not sure what they taught you in Sex-Ed Jewels, but you don’t get pregnant from kissing,” he chuckled.

“Henry. He’s the father.”

“Oh.”

Mattie tugged his dad’s jacket and the moment was forgotten. Gabe picked him up and spun him around, finally demanding that the man prepare another blue cotton candy cone for his magnificent son. We sat, like a happy family, wondering what the future held for our precious Mattie. Gabe called his Mom who instantly cried. She was packing a bag and would arrive in the evening to hear her grandson’s voice.

Gabe stepped outside to make his next call. I imagined that he was trying to reach Kate to share the good news. The call was quick. He must have had to leave a message. When he walked back in, he told me that he had to finish out his work shift and that he would probably be home after his mom’s arrival. He hugged Little Man and we went our separate ways.

Mattie gave no indication that anything had changed, but I knew that he was smiling on the inside. After getting back to the main house, we painted in the sun room, making a fantastic mess. He was quite a good little artist. We hung up each masterpiece and stared at them for a long time, side by side, in deep thought, as if we were the world’s best art critics. He repeated the word blue as he pointed to the color on the paper. Connor didn’t get his miracle, but maybe Mattie had.