“He’s just finishing up an activity. I’ll walk you over to him, but I’d like to talk for a second first.”
“Can’t I just go see my brother?” David’s voice is barely civil, but the man doesn’t seem bothered by that. His voice stays calm. “I’ll be fast, I promise. Please.” He indicates the sofa, and I promptly walk over and sit down and glare at David until he reluctantly does the same.
The guy takes a chair facing us. He leans forward and clasps his hands between his legs. “I’m Sammy. I’m one of Ethan’s primary helpers.”
“Helpers?” David repeats.
“We offer support in the life skills areas—?getting up, getting dressed, going through the day’s routines—”
“Ethan doesn’t need help with any of that.”
“Believe me, I know. He’s amazing. He makes my job easy. But he’s still technically under my care a lot of the time, and I want to fill you in before you see him. First of all, he’s doing great. He fits right in and already has lots of friends. He’s attentive in school and joins in a lot of activities with a good spirit. He’s been a wonderful addition here.”
David says, “You wouldn’t exactly tell us if he were miserable.”
Sammy says calmly, “I would tell you if I had concerns, and I don’t. I’m not saying life here is sunshine and daisies every single minute. Ethan did have a rough first week. He seemed to feel he was sent here because he had misbehaved, and we had to convince him that this is a school, not a punishment.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” David says. “My parents definitely sent him here as a punishment.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Never mind. When you say the week was rough, how rough?”
“He tried to run away a couple of times. He couldn’t get past the gate, so his safety was never in question, but he got pretty upset when he was stopped.”
Even though Sammy couldn’t sound more matter-of-fact, his simple words tear at me. Ethan desperately wanted to go home and couldn’t. At my side, David shifts restlessly, and I know he’s feeling it too.
“But that was only at the very beginning,” Sammy says. “He actually settled in faster than most. He’s pretty content here—?except when someone puts on a movie or TV show that he doesn’t approve of. He has strong feelings about entertainment—?I’m sure you know that.” He smiles at David, who doesn’t smile back. “But we’re working with him on expressing his opinion once and then letting it go. He’s learning. He’s not there yet, but he’s learning.”
“Great,” David says. “Can I see him now?”
Sammy holds up his hand. “Just one more thing. Ethan is really starting to feel comfortable here, but it’s early days still, and it wouldn’t take a lot for him to feel unsettled again. Please try to be positive. Even if you believe he’s being punished in some way by being sent here—?and I’m not sure you’re right about that—?I’d ask you not to communicate that sentiment to him.”
“Okay,” David says, standing up. “If he’s as happy as you say, I’ll try to keep him feeling that way. But he’s not a baby or an idiot—?if he tells me he’s miserable, I’m not going to try to convince him he’s not.”
Sammy stands up too. “Just be aware that if he tells you he’s miserable, it may be because you represent home to him and he’s still thinking that’s where he belongs, and not because anything is going wrong here.”
“Or,” David says, “it may be because he’s actually miserable.”
“I’m with him every day,” Sammy says, and for the first time, his voice sounds a little tight. “I promise you he’s not.”
“How about you actually let me talk to him, and I’ll judge for myself?”
Sammy hesitates, glancing at me. I flash my Love Me! smile at him. I don’t actually disagree with what David’s saying, but, man, he needs to learn not to alienate people who could help him.
“We can’t wait to see him!” I say, all bouncy hair, white teeth, and adorability. “We’ve missed him a lot!”
“All right, then!” Sammy responds to my smile with one of his own. “Come on.”
He holds the side door open for us, and we tromp through and then across a sunlit patch of grass to a path that takes us past a group of students who are attempting some tai chi exercises, past a couple of small buildings, past another group working in a garden, and eventually to the walkway of a long, low building, where Sammy leads us inside. “Arts and crafts,” he says as we enter.
There are a couple of looms and a few potter’s wheels, baskets of yarn and thread, a row of sewing machines, several big tables where students are working, and shelves all around them filled with art supplies and paper. I’m still gazing around, taking it all in, when David suddenly runs over to one of the tables and throws his arms around Ethan, who’s sitting there drawing with a few other people.
Ethan twists around so he can look at his brother. “Hi, David. What are you doing here?”
“I came to visit you!”
“I’m doing art,” Ethan says. “I’m not done yet. I have art from ten thirty to eleven thirty on Saturdays.” He spots me. “Hi, Chloe! Did you come with David?”
“Yes! It’s so good to see you.” I bend down to hug him.
He looks a little different to me, maybe because he’s wearing sweatpants and flip-flops, and I’ve only seen him in jeans and sneakers before. Everyone seems to wear sweatpants and flip-flops at this place.
“Where’s Ivy?” he asks, peering around me like she might be hiding behind somewhere.
“She’s not here. Sorry.”
Sammy says, “Hey, Ethan—?how about you introduce all your friends to your brother and Chloe?”
“Okay.” Ethan flaps his hand at each of his table companions in turn. “This is Julia, and this is Emily, and this is also Ethan. They call me Ethan F and him Ethan W because my last name is Fields and his is Wilson.”