hithere
03-29-2010, 06:32 PM
Sorry I don't really have a story title.. first time trying to write a story so I figured I might as well share it somewhere..
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Come here son."
"What?"
She was sitting at the table with a very serious look on her face. He sat down, unsure of what to expect. He hadn't done anything wrong, or at least, nothing that his mother could have found out.
"What if I told you I was pregnant, would you want to keep the baby?"
Silence.
The thoughts churned through his mind for a brief moment. He was 10 years old. Barely understood anything. Life, morality, responsibility. She probably knew he was too young to know, but nevertheless he came to an unshakeable conclusion. Abortion was a deadly word, he knew something was wrong with it. Taking a life, unacceptable.
"Of course, you can't abort a baby."
"I'm pregnant."
Her face fell into her hands as she began crying. He didn't know what to do, and in the spur of the moment a few tears managed to fight their way out of his eyes.
"We can't abort it..."
"I know."
The child was clearly unplanned and unexpected. The family seemed fine as it was, there was no real need for another child. The boy and his younger brother, the mother and the father. But there it was. A quietly growing jumble of cells created by the whim of chance. And it was decided that the family would indeed grow.
--
A month later, at a Thanksgiving gathering, the news leaked. Pregnant? No way! Congratulations!
"Hey your mom is gonna have a baby?"
"Yea..."
There was a whirl of excitement. He didn't think it was a big deal. His mother was unfazed and quiet. This wasn't something she wanted and it was hard to be happy. Acceptance of fate and the cards it had dealt. But they were a Christian family amongst a Christian group of friends. So it wasn't really about the cards being dealt, but rather the will of God Almighty Himself.
--
And so time passed, the day came, and the child, a boy, was born. A large and healthy nine pounds. He grew like any other baby, nothing different and nothing wrong. If you asked his parents, they'd tell you he was developing faster than the average baby. He learned to crawl and walk. He grew stronger and taller than average, healthy in all ways.
A year came and went, and soon the problems became apparent. The child never uttered a word. It was always baby sounds and gibberish. Everyone reasoned that it wasn't a big deal. Plenty of people were late speakers. Babies didn't have to utter their first words after a year. Some people liked to take their time. Explanations like that.
He never really worried about it. He was too busy in his own little world. Reading his books over and over. What grade was he in? It was middle school for sure. Going to school and feeling younger than everyone else. He never felt like he truly fit in. He was just from a different background, with different ideas and goals. But that was okay. He did well in school and won a couple of "Best of" awards at the end of his time there. But really everyone knew the school was mediocre at best. Better education was available just 30 minutes away, and with the family needing more space to accommodate its 5th member, they moved. This high school was better. There were friends of similar origin and interest. The school was more advanced as he found himself behind in several subjects, and he tried to catch up.
Meanwhile, his brother became of greater and greater concern. He didn't socialize with other kids. He was deeply obsessed with just a couple things. His speech was extremely limited and awkward. The parents were too afraid to tell him what the problem could be. It wasn't a problem for a few years. He was too immature to understand, too distracted to care. He found himself in love, and all of his focus went towards the girl. The parents didn't approve. There was mass tension and drama. It boiled over several times into angry arguments, with nothing resolved or changed.
And still he didn't know what was the explanation for his brother's differences from normality. He slowly found out through glimpses of papers around the house and commonly visited websites on his parents' computer. Autism.
Autism?
He thought that was something reserved for the strangest folk. Genetic scum. The unlucky people who had all of their ability channeled into one thing, and one thing only. But here he was. With a brother who was so tantalizingly normal. Diagnosed with autism. It didn't make any sense. The biggest question became, why? He had learned many times in church that suffering was an unavoidable necessity of life. He had learned that suffering was not a reflection of God's cold shoulder. But when manifested in his own life, it didn't make any sense.
--
There was a weekend trip with the typical family friends to a large garden. Paid for by some rich fool with nothing better to do than to spend his money. It was a good time. His brother froliced around, picking up stones and throwing them. Digging through the dirt for people's lost coins. Things like that. Then as they were about to leave, they walked past a fountain. If there was something his brother liked more than coins, it was water and fountains. There was a little kid there playing with his stuffed animal. In one swift motion, that little toy was taken from him and thrown into the fountain.
The little kid's father retrieved the toy after taking off his shoes and socks and rolling up his pants, and wading through the water. The mother was apologizing profusely. And there he was. It just, didn't make any sense. His brother needed to be kept on a leash, hands tied down. Why would anyone let him go around throwing things all day. Not disciplined enough? Maybe that's what it was. And he started angrily berating his mother.
"Why didn't you keep an eye on him?"
"I was he was just really quick!"
"Look what trouble he's caused."
"I didn't see you doing anything to get the toy out of the water."
And a sudden quiet.
He walked for a while, and then the string snapped.
He threw his water bottle viciously into the ground. The cap broke off and the water splayed across the concrete as the bottle tumbled and rolled away. Pollock himself would have been proud of the temporary artwork left behind. And he walked off. Away from his family, away from their friends. He just walked. He knew he was angry, wanted to let off some steam. At least that was his excuse. But he was really just walking. As if walking would take him away from his troubles. As if his troubles wouldn't come back to find him. As if he could just walk. After an hour or so his parents found him wandering the parking lot. They didn't dare say anything much. There was slight worry in their faces but they were always stoic people.
On the way to dinner they finally ventured a word.
"You can't be like that. You have to accepting of your brother."
The snapped string managed to snap again.
He let out all of his frustrations, screaming it at his parents. They didn't have much to say, no use reasoning with an emotionally distraught teenager.
"Look at him, he doesn't even have a purpose. All he is going to be is a burden. Burden to you, burden to me, burden to our family, burden to our friends. Burden to people we don't even know. He's just a burden. A burden."
Everyone was crying in the car. Well, everyone except the burden himself. He was obliviously laughing away at something. No one will ever know what he found so humorous.
They skipped dinner, drove home in silence, and the next day everything was back to normal. Except the broken string was broken.
--
There was that one short-term missions trip.
Half-way there, the caravan of heavily loaded vans stopped in the desert and unloaded its passengers into a Carl’s Jr. for some replenishment. He was standing in line, waiting to order his Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburger, when his brother suddenly spotted something outside and simply could not be denied. As he charged out noisily, with a million stranger's eyes following him, one daring soul spoke.
"So undisciplined, parents nowadays don't know how to raise their children."
How many times can a string snap?
But he was controlled this time around. He had learned how to suppress everything, hide anything. And because of that, he ended up doing the right thing.
"Excuse me sir, my brother is autistic and I completely understand if you think he's undisciplined as that is exactly what it looks like. But it's not his fault. And my parents are far less understanding and would not want to hear stuff like this, thanks."
The man's eyes widened slightly, gave an even slighter shrug, and looked at his wife. No one said a thing. His two daughters were completely clueless to the situation. And he turned and walked away.
To a normal person that moment would be an achievement. A conquering of emotion and an ignorance of anger. But that was exactly the problem. The memory haunted him. He should have just let the man have it. Punched him in the face. Sarcastically told the man that he's a lucky son of a ***** for having non retarded children. Such a peaceful reaction seemed to not get the point across. The man's uncaring shrug still lingered in his mind.
But there was a bigger problem. His brother never knew he was being insulted. He was always going to need to be defended from something he didn't even understand. It was kind of difficult to comprehend. The brother would never feel socially ostracized or assaulted. All the pain was his. He understood what it meant to be insulted, ignored, abused. And because of his understanding, he felt the need to protect his brother from what he thought was evil. Did any of his thoughts make any sense? Not really. But he couldn't escape the fear.
--
The sound of rich fountains echoed from luxurious country club entrances. Suddenly, a shadow couldn't resist the urge and started running across the avenue. A collective adrenaline surge ran through everybody.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
Someone chased after him and pulled him back to safety. He had 5 lanes down, 6 or 7 more to go. He was lucky there were no cars close by. But then that begged the question. Maybe he had checked before he bolted off. Either way he earned the berating of his parents.
The anger surged again, and with an iron fist he had to shut it down. He walked off alone, trying to hide his thoughts. The dark side told him if a car had struck, it wouldn't have been too bad. The good side told him a car didn't strike, because precaution was taken. Either way he was furious.
It was also disturbing watching his parents show so much love. He felt like he wasn't holding his end up, constantly sagging into negativity. He knew one day the responsibility to watch over would be his, but couldn't see himself matching the love exuded by his parents.
Still nothing made sense.
--
And it will never make any sense.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Come here son."
"What?"
She was sitting at the table with a very serious look on her face. He sat down, unsure of what to expect. He hadn't done anything wrong, or at least, nothing that his mother could have found out.
"What if I told you I was pregnant, would you want to keep the baby?"
Silence.
The thoughts churned through his mind for a brief moment. He was 10 years old. Barely understood anything. Life, morality, responsibility. She probably knew he was too young to know, but nevertheless he came to an unshakeable conclusion. Abortion was a deadly word, he knew something was wrong with it. Taking a life, unacceptable.
"Of course, you can't abort a baby."
"I'm pregnant."
Her face fell into her hands as she began crying. He didn't know what to do, and in the spur of the moment a few tears managed to fight their way out of his eyes.
"We can't abort it..."
"I know."
The child was clearly unplanned and unexpected. The family seemed fine as it was, there was no real need for another child. The boy and his younger brother, the mother and the father. But there it was. A quietly growing jumble of cells created by the whim of chance. And it was decided that the family would indeed grow.
--
A month later, at a Thanksgiving gathering, the news leaked. Pregnant? No way! Congratulations!
"Hey your mom is gonna have a baby?"
"Yea..."
There was a whirl of excitement. He didn't think it was a big deal. His mother was unfazed and quiet. This wasn't something she wanted and it was hard to be happy. Acceptance of fate and the cards it had dealt. But they were a Christian family amongst a Christian group of friends. So it wasn't really about the cards being dealt, but rather the will of God Almighty Himself.
--
And so time passed, the day came, and the child, a boy, was born. A large and healthy nine pounds. He grew like any other baby, nothing different and nothing wrong. If you asked his parents, they'd tell you he was developing faster than the average baby. He learned to crawl and walk. He grew stronger and taller than average, healthy in all ways.
A year came and went, and soon the problems became apparent. The child never uttered a word. It was always baby sounds and gibberish. Everyone reasoned that it wasn't a big deal. Plenty of people were late speakers. Babies didn't have to utter their first words after a year. Some people liked to take their time. Explanations like that.
He never really worried about it. He was too busy in his own little world. Reading his books over and over. What grade was he in? It was middle school for sure. Going to school and feeling younger than everyone else. He never felt like he truly fit in. He was just from a different background, with different ideas and goals. But that was okay. He did well in school and won a couple of "Best of" awards at the end of his time there. But really everyone knew the school was mediocre at best. Better education was available just 30 minutes away, and with the family needing more space to accommodate its 5th member, they moved. This high school was better. There were friends of similar origin and interest. The school was more advanced as he found himself behind in several subjects, and he tried to catch up.
Meanwhile, his brother became of greater and greater concern. He didn't socialize with other kids. He was deeply obsessed with just a couple things. His speech was extremely limited and awkward. The parents were too afraid to tell him what the problem could be. It wasn't a problem for a few years. He was too immature to understand, too distracted to care. He found himself in love, and all of his focus went towards the girl. The parents didn't approve. There was mass tension and drama. It boiled over several times into angry arguments, with nothing resolved or changed.
And still he didn't know what was the explanation for his brother's differences from normality. He slowly found out through glimpses of papers around the house and commonly visited websites on his parents' computer. Autism.
Autism?
He thought that was something reserved for the strangest folk. Genetic scum. The unlucky people who had all of their ability channeled into one thing, and one thing only. But here he was. With a brother who was so tantalizingly normal. Diagnosed with autism. It didn't make any sense. The biggest question became, why? He had learned many times in church that suffering was an unavoidable necessity of life. He had learned that suffering was not a reflection of God's cold shoulder. But when manifested in his own life, it didn't make any sense.
--
There was a weekend trip with the typical family friends to a large garden. Paid for by some rich fool with nothing better to do than to spend his money. It was a good time. His brother froliced around, picking up stones and throwing them. Digging through the dirt for people's lost coins. Things like that. Then as they were about to leave, they walked past a fountain. If there was something his brother liked more than coins, it was water and fountains. There was a little kid there playing with his stuffed animal. In one swift motion, that little toy was taken from him and thrown into the fountain.
The little kid's father retrieved the toy after taking off his shoes and socks and rolling up his pants, and wading through the water. The mother was apologizing profusely. And there he was. It just, didn't make any sense. His brother needed to be kept on a leash, hands tied down. Why would anyone let him go around throwing things all day. Not disciplined enough? Maybe that's what it was. And he started angrily berating his mother.
"Why didn't you keep an eye on him?"
"I was he was just really quick!"
"Look what trouble he's caused."
"I didn't see you doing anything to get the toy out of the water."
And a sudden quiet.
He walked for a while, and then the string snapped.
He threw his water bottle viciously into the ground. The cap broke off and the water splayed across the concrete as the bottle tumbled and rolled away. Pollock himself would have been proud of the temporary artwork left behind. And he walked off. Away from his family, away from their friends. He just walked. He knew he was angry, wanted to let off some steam. At least that was his excuse. But he was really just walking. As if walking would take him away from his troubles. As if his troubles wouldn't come back to find him. As if he could just walk. After an hour or so his parents found him wandering the parking lot. They didn't dare say anything much. There was slight worry in their faces but they were always stoic people.
On the way to dinner they finally ventured a word.
"You can't be like that. You have to accepting of your brother."
The snapped string managed to snap again.
He let out all of his frustrations, screaming it at his parents. They didn't have much to say, no use reasoning with an emotionally distraught teenager.
"Look at him, he doesn't even have a purpose. All he is going to be is a burden. Burden to you, burden to me, burden to our family, burden to our friends. Burden to people we don't even know. He's just a burden. A burden."
Everyone was crying in the car. Well, everyone except the burden himself. He was obliviously laughing away at something. No one will ever know what he found so humorous.
They skipped dinner, drove home in silence, and the next day everything was back to normal. Except the broken string was broken.
--
There was that one short-term missions trip.
Half-way there, the caravan of heavily loaded vans stopped in the desert and unloaded its passengers into a Carl’s Jr. for some replenishment. He was standing in line, waiting to order his Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburger, when his brother suddenly spotted something outside and simply could not be denied. As he charged out noisily, with a million stranger's eyes following him, one daring soul spoke.
"So undisciplined, parents nowadays don't know how to raise their children."
How many times can a string snap?
But he was controlled this time around. He had learned how to suppress everything, hide anything. And because of that, he ended up doing the right thing.
"Excuse me sir, my brother is autistic and I completely understand if you think he's undisciplined as that is exactly what it looks like. But it's not his fault. And my parents are far less understanding and would not want to hear stuff like this, thanks."
The man's eyes widened slightly, gave an even slighter shrug, and looked at his wife. No one said a thing. His two daughters were completely clueless to the situation. And he turned and walked away.
To a normal person that moment would be an achievement. A conquering of emotion and an ignorance of anger. But that was exactly the problem. The memory haunted him. He should have just let the man have it. Punched him in the face. Sarcastically told the man that he's a lucky son of a ***** for having non retarded children. Such a peaceful reaction seemed to not get the point across. The man's uncaring shrug still lingered in his mind.
But there was a bigger problem. His brother never knew he was being insulted. He was always going to need to be defended from something he didn't even understand. It was kind of difficult to comprehend. The brother would never feel socially ostracized or assaulted. All the pain was his. He understood what it meant to be insulted, ignored, abused. And because of his understanding, he felt the need to protect his brother from what he thought was evil. Did any of his thoughts make any sense? Not really. But he couldn't escape the fear.
--
The sound of rich fountains echoed from luxurious country club entrances. Suddenly, a shadow couldn't resist the urge and started running across the avenue. A collective adrenaline surge ran through everybody.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
Someone chased after him and pulled him back to safety. He had 5 lanes down, 6 or 7 more to go. He was lucky there were no cars close by. But then that begged the question. Maybe he had checked before he bolted off. Either way he earned the berating of his parents.
The anger surged again, and with an iron fist he had to shut it down. He walked off alone, trying to hide his thoughts. The dark side told him if a car had struck, it wouldn't have been too bad. The good side told him a car didn't strike, because precaution was taken. Either way he was furious.
It was also disturbing watching his parents show so much love. He felt like he wasn't holding his end up, constantly sagging into negativity. He knew one day the responsibility to watch over would be his, but couldn't see himself matching the love exuded by his parents.
Still nothing made sense.
--
And it will never make any sense.