Chapter Three - Aidan's Quest

Chapter 3
Margo

   
    “So, what did the psychologist say about Aidan? You think he’s asleep now-hate for him to overhear us.”  Mr. Wade helped Margo with the dishes as they talked.  “Why don’t I make some coffee and you go tuck him in.  I bet he’s not too old for that, is he?”

    Margo kissed Mr. Wade on the cheek.  “I’ll be right back.  Poker or Scrabble tonight?”  They often played games after Aidan fell asleep.  Margo enjoyed the company and Mr. Wade was always keeping his brain active to ward off Alzheimer’s that had struck a few of his friends in the past few years. 

    “Depends on whether you have extra cash lying around.  If you’re broke, you better bring the Scrabble.” 

    Margo shook her head and tamped down the chuckle that threatened to creep out and wake Aidan.  She slipped through the narrow opening in the door and watched her boy, one long leg hanging off his bed and out of his covers.  She gently moved his leg over and covered him up again.  “Love you kiddo.”  She brushed his hair from his forehead to plant a kiss.  He didn’t even stir. 

    Margo marveled at how orderly he preferred parts of his life and what a disaster he kept his room.  He had a system, though, and as long as the mess stayed behind his doorway and he didn’t bait the palmetto bugs with crumbs from his snacks, his room could remain his own property.  Grabbing the Scrabble game from the hallway closet, she tried to remember to walk on her toes on the way down the stairs.  Since she was told by her dorm mates in college that her habit of walking on her heels made the floor shake, she has always been cautious of this habit.

    “Ready to lose, young-un?”  Mr. Wade handed Margo a cup of coffee with extra cream and three packs of sweetener already added.  “Didn’t put too much coffee in there, did I?”
  “Do you ever quit joking?  I bet you kept Mrs. Wade in stitches.”  Margo wanted to talk to him about Aidan but just didn’t know how to start.  She knew he thought Aidan was fine, he said so just that afternoon.  But she knew there was something about him.  Always did know and no one would listen.  She finally took matters in her own hands and quit listening to pediatricians with patronizing attitudes about over-worried mothers.  She was just afraid Mr. Wade, being about the same age as the pediatrician, would also be patronizing and she just did not want to cause a rift between them.  He was the only family she had.  Or, rather, he was the only ‘family’ who actually treated her like family. 

    “Now, if you want to talk about your boy, don’t you get me started about my Mary or you won’t get a word in edgewise.  Tell me what that psychologist said before we get off the subject again.  Then, you can ask me anything.  I promise.”

    Margo decided to show him a book instead of telling him about it.  She felt it would lead more credence to what she was saying.  She had it on the counter and reached back from her seat at the table to get it.  “This is what he has, or at least, this is what the psychologist things.  It really fits, though.  I finally understand why he does some of the things he does and I think I will be a much better parent now.  I spent so much energy for the past nine years trying to push, pull, and force him into some random shape that society says he should fit inside.  He just isn’t going to fit in there without damaging him in the process.” 
 
    Mr. Wade took the book and looked thoughtfully at some of the captions.  He reached in his shirt pocket to get his glasses and cocked his head.  “Autism?  I thought that was when kids flap their hands and rock all day.  That doesn’t sound like him.”

    “No, that is the overall term-Autistic Spectrum Disorder.  Asperger’s Syndrome is on the other end.  See, here is the description.”  Margo pointed to a shaded box the page.  She could tell Mr. Wade would need more to be convinced.  It wasn’t so much that she wanted to convince him, she just wanted some validation from Mr. Wade that she was doing the right thing in labeling him. 
    “I just can’t get over the fact that these shrinks have managed to make a list of qualities most of us would love to have and name it a disorder.  Reckon what diagnosis they have, since it seems we all have something.  Shoot, that boy of yours is smart, creative, well-spoken, curious, and one of the few kids I know who actually wants to learn something new.  Why is that a bad thing?” 

  “He’s a great kid and it’s not a bad thing most of the time.  But what about friends?  He’s had maybe two friends his whole life and one was the child of a friend of mine who really didn’t want to play with him.  His mother threatened him with a switch if he didn’t ‘make nice.’  Luke is the only one he’s really invited over and Luke is two years older.  All I keep wondering is when Luke is going to drop him when his friends figure out he’s hanging out with a 9 year-old.  What’s that going to do to Aidan? 

    “It says here it could be hereditary.  Anyone in your family have this? What about his father’s family?”

    Margo stood up abruptly and excused herself for a moment.  She could feel her eyes burning and didn’t want Mr. Wade to see her crying.  He would think he hurt her feelings and would end up mad at himself.  She just didn’t want to talk about Sam.  She regretted everything that happened in those short months before she conceived.  She screwed up royally and she had no one but herself to blame. 
    “Margo, did I say something to upset you.  Come on back and let’s talk.  What got to you?  Sam? 

    “Yes, Sam.  You never met him, did you?” 

    “Don’t reckon I did.  He was good to you, wasn’t he?”

    “He never hurt me, if that is what you’re asking; not physically, anyway.    At first, he was just a good friend.  We could talk about anything with each other.  Both of us had alcoholic fathers but he ended up being raised by his grandmother.  We really bonded, I guess, just by talking about our screwed up families.  Then, well, I guess we just consoled each other a little too much.  Neither of us wanted to be alone for the rest of our lives and we committed to each other that we would never drink and we would not be like our parents. 

    “What did he say about being a father?”

    “We didn’t intend on having a baby quite so soon but he seemed excited.  Well, at first he did.  Later, when I was 5-6 months pregnant and hiding it was becoming impossible, he started acting ashamed of me somehow.  It was as if he didn’t realize that having a baby had to be so public.  He stopped looking me in the eyes and didn’t want to sleep with me, not even just sharing the bed.  It got to where he wouldn’t even leave his apartment at all.  He started telling me to forget him and to give the baby up for adoption, he couldn’t be a father.  I didn’t know what he was talking about, why he was acting that way.  Not then, anyway.  I think I went into social work to figure out what happened to him, emotionally I mean. ” 

    “What do you mean, ‘not then’?  Did you ever figure it out?” 

    “Well, I think he suffered from depression or was bipolar maybe.  I was never really sure because I knew him for only a year, maybe a little less.  Back then, I thought he was ashamed of me and didn’t want people to thing bad about him.  I don’t know.  I was mad, scared, disappointed.  Really, I was tired of him bringing me down.  I packed my toothbrush and the few belongings I still had in his apartment.  His final plea was for me to keep his identity silent.  He didn’t want me to tell anyone, especially the child, about him.  I agreed with this and I did keep my promise.  At least I kept that particular promise.  I also promised I would put the child up for adoption so I could get on with my studies.  He cared that much, at least.  But I had no intention of following through with that promise.”

    “Where did you end up going that Summer.  I noticed you didn’t return home for nearly two years after the hit and run.  I regretted that you didn’t get to say goodbye to Mary.  She never did recover from that hit and run.  She was in the hospital for months afterward and finally died from complications on May 11, 1999.  You just disappeared for almost two years.  I didn’t have the heart to ask your mom where you were and your father, well, your father had his own problems.” 

    I had a cousin on my mom’s side who lived in North Alabama and was about my age.  I called her and she offered to let me stay with her and have the baby there.  I told Sam where I was going and gave him the phone number.  The dorms were letting out and I had to go somewhere but he didn’t exactly offer his apartment.  He didn’t even try to stop me.”

    “Have you talked to him since?  Just wondered if he knew you kept his son.  Aidan has asked me a few times if I knew who his father was.  I think he’s getting pretty determined to find something out, too.  Don’t you think you ought to tell him something?  You don’t want him finding out the wrong way, do you?

    “I need to talk to Sam first, but haven’t been able to track him down.  I tried earlier this year when I was in the process of getting this evaluation done.  I kept having to fill out questionnaires, forms, and other documents that all asked about the father and his family.  I’m ashamed to say I hardly knew his family.  I know his grandmother was Ukrainian and raised him after he was taken from his parents.  I don’t even know why that happened.  Just that his father drank heavily and his grandmother raised him.”

    “I know a guy who could find him, that is, if you want my help.  I’m not judging you, Hon, but I do think you need to think real hard about continuing to hide things from Aidan.  He’s a smart kid.  He’ll find out if he puts his mind to it.  Isn’t that what you said-that obsessing over a certain topic goes with this Asperger’s Syndrome.  Anyway, who knows, maybe Sam got some help and wonders where you are.  Let me help you.  If I find his location, I will give you the information and you can decide what to do with it.  Is that a deal?”

    Margo started thinking of the repercussions of opening this enormous bag of worms.  But she thought she also knew a little bit about keeping them locked up in Pandora’s Box.  There had been many secrets in her life and she spent most of her childhood keeping the very secrets that, had they been told, would have freed her from her messed up childhood.  “Let me think about it tonight. I’ll let you tomorrow what I decide.  I really will think about it.  I promise.”  Mr. Wade knew her too well.  He was giving her the old “sure, you say that now but we both know you won’t do it” look. 

    “By the way, Mr. Wade, since you have been playing ’20 Questions’ with me, I have one for you.  Did they ever figure out who was driving when your wife was hit?”

    Mr. Wade looked at his watch and started putting the untouched Scrabble pieces back in the box.  They had been so focused on their discussion; they had not even played a game.  “Did you know it was 10 p.m. already?  I have a busy day tomorrow, keeping an eye on that son of yours.”  Mr. Wade washed his coffee cup out and put it in the dishwasher.  He patted Margo on the back and told her she was doing a terrific job and that he would be back first thing the next morning, “with bells on.” 

(2120 wds - Finished 6-12-08)