A Normal Child by Leonore Wilson

By Leonore Wilson

Laura Bentley, social worker, stopped to survey the view. Dismal houses everywhere she looked. Vegetable gardens cleared of crops. Sunflowers standing up with hanging heads already black. In front of Laura, were farm buildings of all sorts close to one another in which hens, ducks, and pigs ran about.

They were probably watching her now, she thought. She climbed the dilapidated porch and rang the doorbell. To her great surprise the door was opened by a small girl. She was breathing heavily as if she had run down a steep flight of stairs. Her white teeth, her bright blue dress with daises, dazzled. Her light-brown hair hung lank and wet. Behind her was a small living room, dark and stuffy. The room smelled of decay.

Preparations had been made for Laura’s visit. On a scratched oblong table waited a few saltines, cups of lemon water, saucers, and a candy bowl with four cubes of sugar. Sitting on a ratty grey sofa covered with torn leather, was a young father with a big red beard who looked frazzled and fatigued. His torpid eyes were sunk in fat.

Laura sat down on the couch and smiled at the girl. Callie hummed, hardly audible.

‘Where’s Mrs Hillman?’ asked Laura of Mr Hillman.

“She’s working, no doubt.”

‘But she told me she’d be here. I texted her.’ Laura’s mouth was dry and her forehead was perspiring.

“Maybe somethings come up. I don’t know,” Mr Hillman said, shrugging his shoulders. In the file that had the name Mrs Melody Hillman on the front, the last note, dated about a month before, said, “Mother did not keep appointment. No reason why.’

Mr Hillman said something in a low voice to Callie. Laura thought they must have been watching from the window and got the refreshments ready when they saw her drive up. Mr Hillman poured as Callie handed Laura a cup, and a napkin of Saltines. Mr Hillman set a cup before his daughter and put a few crackers near her cup.

“Excuse Callie, please, Ms Laura. My girl only likes crackers. Crackers and occasional fruit, but that’s it.” The girl began twirling her hair. She didn’t look at Laura.

‘Three,’ said Mr Hillman ‘She can now count to three. Say three, Callie.”

Callie started rocking back and forth. A minute passed. She counted to three on her fingers. She flushed. Her eyes were not concentrating on Laura. Not on her father either. .

‘If your wife would agree to it, Callie could go to the special school we discussed.” Mr Hillman’s cleared his throat resolutely and shifted. He unbuttoned his shirt collar as if to save himself from choking. Callie’s eyes were reticent and her lips quivered. Her father stroked her long hair and made soothing noises.

Callie stood up and started waving her hands like a cornered duck. She circled the room on her tiptoes as if looking for something. Laura noticed that her socks were mismatched; one striped, one solid.

‘My wife, I mean my ex, says Callie must go to a "normal" school. Where normal kids go. We’re divorcing, Ms Laura. Women like Melody are beyond my comprehension,” he grumbled angrily.

“All I can say is my hands are tied.” ‘Is that where you go, Callie? A normal school?” “Yes,” Callie said in a sing song voice. “Yes, yes, yes.”
‘My name is Laura.”
 “ I know. I know,” she said. “Ms Laura Bentley.”

“Your mom should be here,” said Mr Hillman to his daughter.

Laura took out a Dr. Suess book from her briefcase and held it in front of Callie. The Cat in the Hat was for children Callie’s age. Laura turned the bright pages, nodding encouragingly, but Callie began to headbutt her father like a little goat.

‘Look,’ said Laura, ‘I’m not saying that Callie will learn to read well, or anything like that, but she just can’t go to regular school anymore. How can she? She’s a distraction to the other children. She throws tantrums. And the boys are starting to bully her for wearing ear muffs. Kids like Callie are noise sensitive as you know. Oh and sometimes Callie refuses to use the toilet.”

Laura could swear there were tears in Mr Hillman’s eyes. But he turned his head to one side, crooked his knees, and put his open hands before him as though warding off a blow. He sat silent and looked somberly at his daughter who began smashing all the crackers with her fists. Mr Hillman got up and tried to hug Callie, but she was not having it.

“Ms Laura, I wanna go back to my school. Wanna wanna.”

“Did your dad tell you to be here?”

“No, my mom told me.” Callie began biting her nails.

“Please stop that!” Mr Hillman said. His head seemed heavy with the strain of talking. Callie flapped her hands and yelled, “

I hate mom. I hate dad. I hate.”

“Don’t be angry. Let’s be friends, true friends,” Laura called after her. “Not a word more about it. Let’s talk of something else.”

Callie did not respond to Laura. She threw the storybook hard at the wall. Then she flew like an arrow out the door and was gone.

Laura knew that Mrs Hillman did not understand that her daughter was “autistic” as the medical record put it. She wanted Callie to be "normal," whatever normal was. But Laura gathered Mr Hillman knew.’

“Enough, enough! It’s settled and done with,” Mr Hillman said. He cleared his throat and let out a long sigh.
        
Laura thanked him although she felt like a bird in a snare. She looked around desperately. She found she was filling with emotion. She felt sorry for Mr Hillman and wanted to say something nice, caressing and consolatory but couldn’t. She felt a sadness, vague and undefined.
       She opened the file against her knee and wrote: “Mother of Callie did not turn up as arranged. Father’s hands are tied. Nothing more we can do.” The family stood around the timber dining table where Logan was seated behind a cake aglow with candles. Their poorly sung rendition of the birthday song finished with hoorahs, and, on cue, Logan blew out the many candles before grinning at everyone. 
     ‘Looks great, Mum. Thank you,’ Logan said while they both plucked the coloured candles from the cake. 
     ‘Logan, look out! You’re dripping wax all over the cake,’ she cried out. Logan immediately withdrew his hand and let his mother finish removing the remaining candles. He was always in trouble for something. He picked up the long-handled knife and raised it high to cut into the cake. 
‘Look out, Mum! Logan’s got a knife,’ called Caleb in a loud voice of mock warning.
Logan shook his head slightly and rolled his eyes at his elder brother while his two younger sisters, Lily and Mia giggled.
‘Yeah, look out, Mum,’ added Lily.
Mum removed the knife from Logan’s grasp, her lips pursed. Logan didn’t bother trying to retain the knife to cut his cake. He sighed. 
‘Every year, guys. Don’t you get tired of it after all these fucking years?’ Logan said.
‘Mum, Logan said the f word,’ Caleb said in a deliberately loud voice which replicated the dobbing chant of a child. 
‘Logan, don’t swear,’ Mum responded.
Logan stuck his middle finger up at Caleb and pulled a face. Despite their age, the two brothers continued their childish behaviour.
‘Mum, Logan stuck up his rude finger at me,’ Caleb said loudly again.
‘Logan, don’t do that,’ Mum answered.
‘Remember that time Poppy put Logan in the bin?’ asked Lily.
‘Don’t do all this again, guys,’ said Logan.
It was too late; Caleb regaled them with the years-old tale of their grandfather shoving mischievous Logan into their outdoor garbage bin and slamming the red lid shut, blocking out Logan’s screams. Caleb, Lily and Mia guffawed at the memory. Logan’s face was impassive as he heard the familiar taunts. There had become a family tradition that somebody’s birthday gave permission for childhood stories to be retold. Occasionally they were cute but, often, they weren’t. Mum looked briefly at Logan before hushing them all as she handed out pieces of cake.
‘So funny! Why were you screaming so badly? I can’t remember,’ Mia asked.
‘Because I’d just seen Poppy put a big fucking huntsman in the bin a few minutes before.’ Logan’s face conveyed the horror he’d felt as a child.
Mum placed her hand on Logan’s shoulder and squeezed it.
‘Poppy shouldn’t have done that,’ she said firmly. ‘That’s not ok.’  
Although twenty-six, Logan was still defending his childish self; having to parry the verbal blows of his siblings; having to pretend he could laugh at these memories. Logan’s occasional explosions were “big reactions” per his therapists. That was a very big reaction, Logan. Do you think it was too big? He’d spent group psychology sessions learning social cues. What is Lachlan’s face trying to tell you now, Logan? What clues were there, Logan, that Lachlan didn’t like what you did? 
‘Poppy has never quite understood Logan like he should,’ said Mum.
     He knew his single mother had sacrificed an enormous amount of time and money to take him to his therapies. Logan would hear his mother shouting at his father about money and therapy attendance. I think you’re having some big feelings, Mum. Do you think there’s a better way to communicate your message, Mum? Big reactions were allowed after divorces. 

‘Whenever we went shopping, Logan would just run off,’ said Mia who was the youngest but always so perfectly behaved. She had been diagnosed with selective mutism, so there was no way she was having big reactions. Silence, sometimes for hours when things weren’t going well. It was so irritating. She had to have therapy too.
‘Always!’ Lily agreed, ‘We were constantly looking for him.’
‘It drove me crazy,’ said Mum, ‘I used to say that if I left the store with three out of the four of you, I was being awarded with a credit.’ 

     ‘I wish we’d left him there, at least once; might have stopped him running off,’ Caleb said. Logan felt as though he’d been slapped. His gut dropped in the familiar anxiety of childhood. Mum, I’ve got a funny tummy again. He’d forgotten that old saying about the credit mark, but he’d heard it so many times. He knew his mother loved him, so why this?  I would have a big reaction if you went home without me, Mum.
‘And when we’d be going out, he’d scream because he wasn’t ready,’ said Lily, giggling. 
‘Logan was never ready,’ added Mia.
‘Well, you’d scream too if you thought you were being left behind,’ said Logan.
‘We were never going to leave you behind,’ said Mum with a light chuckle.
‘How was I supposed to know that? I was an autistic ADHD kid watching everyone walk out the front door without me,’ said Logan.
Mum’s brow furrowed in a frown. She started collecting the dirty plates into a pile on the table.
‘Yeah, an autistic kid who managed to get suspended from school on World Autism Day at just ten years old,’ laughed Caleb.
‘Fuck off, Caleb, ya deaf prick!’ Logan exploded and shot to his feet, ‘At least I don’t wear hearing aids like you and have ginger fucking hair!’
Caleb simply threw his head back in laughter although Lily and Mia didn’t join him this time. Mum held her outstretched palms towards each of her sons. Logan’s face was flushed, and his usually handsome face was now curled into a snarl.
‘Hey, hey. Calm down, Logan. Caleb, stop it. You two need to both stop,’ Mum said.
‘I’m sick of this ginger fucker having a go at me!’ Logan shouted, ‘Let’s tease him. He was the one who had hearing aids, braces and glasses when he was at school. What a fucking dweeb!’ 
Logan shoved the chair behind him, toppling it to the floor, as Caleb continued to laugh. Logan’s fists were clenched into fists at his side. Mum grasped his muscled forearm but Logan tossed it away with a firm flick.
‘Still can’t handle a joke, can you little brother,’ Caleb mocked.
‘Come on then, ranga! Think you can take me?’
‘Girls, take the plates to the kitchen and pack the dishwasher,’ said Mum, her voice was sharp. ‘Caleb, that’s enough. Get out!’
Lily and Mia made a hasty exit with whatever they could hurriedly gather up from the table and Lily tried to drag Caleb with them towards the kitchen.
‘Get out, Caleb. Right now. This is meant to be a celebration,’ said Mum. ‘Logan, take a breath.’
‘If you tell me to do finger touching and have a glass of water, I’m walking out that door right now, Mum.’
‘No, just calm down and breathe.’
Logan could still hear Caleb in the kitchen. He deserved a punch in that laughing, freckly face. You’ve let your angry monster escape again, Logan. Count to ten. Take a deep breath. Touch your fingers together. Have some water. Logan picked up his Heineken and gulped it down while Mum watched him closely. He took a deep breath and blew it out with puffed cheeks and picked up his chair, sitting on it, if only to stop further demands from his mother. 
‘Now, what happened there? Talk to me.’
‘Are you serious?’ Logan looked incredulously at his mother. ‘Do you not hear all that?’
‘Of course I do. It’s just silly teasing. When are you going to be able to laugh it off? You take it so seriously. You’re just like your father.’
‘Yeah, and you divorced him. You didn’t want him around. Is that how it is with me, then?’
‘Wait, what-,’ said Mum looking somewhat confused.
‘Laugh it off? You joke about being happy to leave the shops without me and just take the others. You’d say you’re leaving home without me and only take the others to the car. Poppy put me in the bin like a piece of garbage to throw away. And now you say I’m like Dad who you did throw away. How should I take all that? You’ve always said you’re my biggest advocate. So how am I meant to feel?’
Logan hated the look on his mother’s face right now; he’d always hated that hurt face just before she cried. Have you got a funny tummy, Mum? Are you going to have a big reaction? Tears escaped Mum’s eyes, but she didn’t look away from Logan’s face. She took both Logan’s hands in hers and squeezed them hard. 
‘Oh fuck,’ she whispered.  Mum said the f word. That’s not her normal big reaction.
‘I am so sorry,’ she continued. ‘I didn’t even consider that you took those things literally. That you believed them. I am so, so sorry, Logan.’
‘Autism, Mum,’ Logan shook both her hands but in the gentle manner of a reminder.
‘Yeah. I thought I understood but...’ her voice trailed off as she cried. 

     ‘Can I hug you?’ Logan brought her into an embrace as he was, for the first time, the comforter of his mother’s emotions. When Caleb’s face popped back into the dining room for a peek, Logan flipped him the bird behind his mother’s back. 

     Caleb just grinned in response and ducked away.