The Battered Heiress Blues - By Laurie Van Dermark Page 0,52

imagination.”

“I don’t think so.”

Thank God I’d brought some old bread for the birds. I reached in my knap sack and pulled out a couple of loaves that had been put in the freezer by the caterers during Connor’s funeral. The birds scurrying around for the tossed bread captured Mattie’s attention. He even looked like he smiled. My make-shift family was pieced back together.

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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