The Lesson

The Lesson

         Karen sighed. It was quarter to one already; quarter to one on Tuesday.
         Karen hated Tuesdays.
         And to think, she’d been so excited about them just six weeks ago. Six weeks ago, when she’d still been delighted over Seth’s improvements; six weeks ago, when she’d packed the swimming bag with enthusiasm rather than resignation; six weeks ago, before she’d learned how fragile her joy was and how easily it could be crushed.
         Karen poked her head around the living room wall, watching Seth play a video game. His small form was curled inward, hunched protectively around the game controller, his head held low and his serious little face intent on the screen.
         “Seth.”
         There was no response.
         “Seth.” She touched him lightly on the shoulder. He pulled away sharply. “Seth, eyes on me, please.”
         He grunted.
         “Seth, eyes on me, please.” She took a deep breath, forcing her voice to remain pleasant and calm. “Eyes up and on me, and let’s use our words, remember?”
          He frowned, scrunching up his body up until the controller sat just under his chin, shutting her out. The television beeped and cheered as he finished the level of the game he was playing.
         “Seth, do you remember what Mrs. Walters said about using our words?”
         The music from the television shifted as he went on to the next level. His eyes darted all over the screen.
         I could say he’s having a bad day, Karen thought. I could say he’s having a bad day and we can’t make it. Or a doctor’s appointment – an emergency doctor’s appointment. Maybe they’d even let us make up the lesson privately.
         It was tempting. It was very tempting, despite all the preparations Karen had made for today. Her heart still pounded, thinking about her plan.
         Except he’ll realize, later today or early tomorrow, that we skipped. Seth knew how many lessons came with each series, and he counted them off obsessively.
         “It’s Tuesday, Seth.”
         His fingers froze on the controller. His eyes flickered up toward her face, stopping and hovering somewhere around her chin. He still avoided eye contact, but he was getting the hang of at least looking in the general direction of a person’s face. Sometimes. Six weeks ago, that would have sent a little thrill running through her; now it was all she could do was to manage a weak smile.
         “Swim day,” he announced, dropping the controller. “It’s swim day six.”
         “The sixth swim day,” Karen corrected.
         “The sixth swim day,” Seth agreed.
         Seth ran to grab his sandals. He sat on the floor, his fingers clumsily fumbling with the Velcro strap. “To use our words,” he said suddenly. “All the time.”
         “What?”
         “To use our words. All the time.”
         “What’s ‘to use your words?’”
         “All the time.”
         “Yes, all the time.” Karen took a deep breath, trying hard not to get frustrated with him. She looked at the small brown head bent over the other sandal. “I meant, why did you say that?” she asked.
         “That’s what Mrs. Walters said. ‘Use your words. All the time.’” He pushed himself to his feet and began to hop nervously from foot to foot in a funny little rhythm.
         With a start, Karen realized that Seth was answering her question from earlier.
         Seth never missed anything, from the dog barking halfway down the block, to the birds perched on the telephone lines, to a phrase he’d heard Karen say on the phone two weeks ago. He had a hard time filtering anything out, and would store up information and spit it back out at her later as if no time had passed at all. He often grew nervous, frustrated, or even angry when she had no idea what he was talking about.
         “Yes,” Karen said, reaching out to press down on his shoulders. “Yes, she did. Very good.” He stopped dancing and smiled proudly.
         “All the time.”
         “Yes.” Karen grabbed the striped swimming bag and her keys. Her purse was already in the car, sitting on the floorboard next to a bulging black trash bag. Seth buckled himself up while she laid the swimming bag on top of the trash bag. She could feel the gas can inside.
         She deserves it, she thought venomously as her hands began to shake.
         “Miss her. Mrs. Walters.”
         “I miss her,” Karen corrected.
         “I miss her,” Seth repeated. “Mrs. Walters.”
         “You’ll see her when summer vacation is over,” she reminded him. Mrs. Walters was the speech therapist at Seth’s elementary school. “You’ll be in first grade then.”
         “Yes,” Seth smiled. “Frogs on the walls.”
         Karen backed the car into the street, passing the trash bin she had put out on the curb early this morning. They hadn’t been by to pick it up yet – they shouldn’t come until two-thirty. She fervently hoped they wouldn’t be early today. Absently, she stroked the trash bag.
         “Frogs?” she asked vaguely. She’d come to the end of their neighborhood. Traffic was busy; she hated to make left-hand turns into busy traffic.
         “There’s frogs on the walls. And a bird.”
         Karen frowned. As far as she knew, there was nothing painted on the walls of any of the rooms in the school. Maybe there was a bulletin board he saw once?
         “Paper frogs?” She saw an opening and eased the car out into traffic.
         “No. Frogs.” The tension in his voice caught her attention.
         Crap. Just what he needs – a meltdown right before his lesson. She quickly wracked her brain, desperately trying to understand. Why can’t he ever be satisfied with a simple, ‘That’s nice, dear’?
         “Mommy?” Seth asked insistently. “There’s frogs, right? Mommy?”
         “Yes, there’re frogs,” she agreed, watching him in the rear view mirror, hoping that just agreeing would be enough. It seldom was, but she could always hope. She saw his little face darken – somehow he could always tell when she was placating him – and suddenly an image came to her.
         “Church!” she exclaimed. “There are frogs on the wall in the first-grade room at church!” She felt almost light-headed with relief.
         “And a bird,” Seth said, settling back into his seat.
         The parking lot of the high school was empty except for two cars; one dark blue and immaculate, the other a rust-eaten green.
         Karen pulled in slowly, eyes scanning the windows of the building for signs of life. All of the blinds were closed against the summer heat.
She pulled up next to the blue car, facing the sign that read “Pool Entrance” which hung above the big double doors. She could see the security camera for the parking lot hadn’t been fixed yet, even though it had been two whole days since the vandal in the black hoodie and ski mask had visited in the middle of the night. It still dangled from its pole by a few wires, shards of metal and glass still glittering on the pavement under it. The rocks that had been thrown to smash it lay hidden under the bushes.
         Her heart started to thump. Everything was ready.
         I can’t do it. Karen pressed her forehead into her steering wheel. Why did I think I could? I can’t even speed without feeling guilty.
         “Ready?” Seth asked.
         An image swam into Karen’s mind: Seth, proud of his daring, calling out, “Ready?” as he waved his arms and jumped into the pool. A cruel voice cutting over the splashes and echoes of the pool to sneer, “My god, he’s so pathetically spastic. What do you feed him, pure sugar?”
         A bubble of rage bloomed in Karen’s stomach. She lifted her head.
         “Just a minute, sweetie,” Karen answered. “Here, play a game on my phone.”
         Seth brightened; that was a special treat. He grabbed her phone from her hand, immediately immersed in something that sounded bright and cheerful.
         Karen got out of the car and stretched, casually turning in a circle, carefully surveying her surroundings for signs of life. Nothing moved. In the backseat, the music from the phone chirped and twittered. Seth’s nose nearly touched the screen.
         It didn’t take long.
         Afterward, she tried to slow her breathing; spots were beginning to hover in her vision. She took a deep breath and held it, feeling her heart trying to hammer its way out of her chest. Waves of fear and adrenaline rushed through her, alternating with a heavy dose of guilt as she hid the trash bag in her trunk. She’d never taken matters into her own hands before. Six weeks ago, she wouldn’t have thought she was capable of it.
         She deserves it, she thought again. I’ll teach her.
         “Okay, Seth.” Her voice was too high, too wired. She swallowed and tried again. “Okay, Seth, time to go.” That was better.
         He relinquished the phone without an argument for once, eager to get to the pool. She followed him across the parking lot to the heavy doors. Her muscles trembled and her knees felt loose, like they wanted to collapse underneath her any moment. She pulled open the door for Seth, feeling the anxiety clutch at her chest as the smell of chlorine hit her.
         Seth dashed ahead, blithely ignoring the “Walking feet, please!” she called after him. She hurried after him through the empty atrium, their footsteps echoing around the dim room. Seth disappeared around the corner. She heard the dull thud of the Family Locker Room door.
         She chased after him. According to her phone, it was 1:28. Two minutes before the lesson started. That woman would still be in the locker room and the last thing Seth needed was to be alone with her.
         Karen yanked on the door to the locker room and rushed in, nearly falling over Seth, who stood immobile just inside.
         “Says he’s autistic,” the dark-haired woman was saying into her cell phone. She glanced up, her lip curling disdainfully as she stared at Seth. “You can see that he’s totally normal. He’s just really naughty. His mother lets him walk all over her.” She raised her eyes and eyed Karen grimly.
         Karen gritted her teeth, several retorts burning her tongue. Her courage failed her, and she turned to the bench, pulling Seth’s towel and suit out of the bag. She tugged Seth into a changing room, closing the door on the horrible woman.
         “Am I naughty?” Seth wondered.
         “You are not naughty,” she told him firmly. “You are very, very good. She’s mean and evil, and don’t you listen to her.”
         Seth changed silently into his suit. Karen leaned back against the door, wishing that she’d never tried to explain anything to the woman. It was true; Seth didn’t look autistic – she’d sometimes wondered if life would be easier if he did. She wondered if she’d get the disgusted looks or the lectures on discipline from complete strangers.
         He can talk now, she reminded herself sternly. He can talk now, and he’s made so many improvements. There are so many autistic kids who will never be able to talk to their parents. Shame on you for not being grateful for what you have. She’d told herself that every week since that first disastrous lesson. It never worked. She hated that woman for stealing her joy. She hated herself for letting her.
         She’d been devastated when Seth had been diagnosed with autism. Then, nineteen months ago, the specialists had told her that his case was mild and, with extensive teaching, he’d be able to lead a fairly normal life. Karen and her husband, Steve, had been thrilled as little improvements followed improvements. Normal things – like talking or dressing himself or staying in bed at night – that had once seemed impossibly far out of reach now happened every day. There was always something else, something new, to be excited about. Something little that got her through the endless failed behavioral plans and parent-teacher meetings and meltdowns in the grocery store.
         And then the swimming lessons started.
         Karen gathered up Seth’s clothes, quickly folding them. Seth followed her out of the room, pitifully thin in his favorite red swimming trunks. Karen placed his clothes in the swimming bag and hung it in a locker, trying hard to pretend that the dark-haired woman wasn’t standing there glaring at her.
         “So, is he going to behave today?” she asked suddenly. “Is he going to even try to listen? Or is the little monster going to dump water all over my granddaughter’s head again?”
         Inwardly, Karen cringed, trying to think of something to say. As usual, her mouth dried up and her mind went totally blank. She stroked Seth’s hair, bending down to whisper in his ear how proud she was of him, and how great he was going to do today.
         The incident had happened the first week. Seth had been so excited to be back in the water that he’d kept scooping up water in his hand and pouring it on the other child’s head. The little girl hadn’t seemed to mind, but the grandmother had flipped out. Karen had talked to Seth for hours about it, trying to make him understand that it was rude. He hadn’t done it again, but the woman still brought it up every week.
         “Oh. Whispering,” the grandmother mocked. “That’s mature. God, no wonder he’s such a little brat.”
She turned her back to the woman, hiding her red face, hoping that the woman would go out to the pool. Her granddaughter must be in the pool already, she thought. She’s only in here to torture me.
         Seeing her opportunity, the woman bent over, getting into Seth’s face. “You listen to the teacher today,” she scolded. “Your mother doesn’t make you mind, but –”
         “Don’t you talk to him!” Karen spun, her eyes flashing. Her heart started pounding as she spun to face the other woman. She could feel her muscles begin to shake; she’d had a deep-seated fear of confrontation ever since she was small, when it had been drilled into her that good girls don’t talk back, nice girls don’t fight.
         The woman straightened, meeting Karen glare for glare.
         Suddenly, Seth started hopping around, jerking his arms and bobbing his head. Karen felt her face flush. Seth often did this when he was anxious. It was his way of withdrawing, of going to his happy place where anxiety couldn’t touch him. She knew, in his mind, Seth had become a mighty warrior and his problems were now physical things he could fight off.
         In reality, with his thin limbs and knobby knees, he looked remarkably like a dancing chicken.
         The grandmother scowled down at him for a long moment. “You need professional help,” she finally spat at Karen. With a last sneer for Seth, she pushed past them and stalked off into the pool area.
         Karen closed the locker softly. Seth continued to hop.
         “Come here, baby,” she said, holding out her arms. She sat on the bench and pulled him toward her, settling him on her lap and wrapping her arms tightly around him, squeezing him and crooning softly. He struggled for a few minutes, and then she felt the tension starting to melt out of him. She wished she’d brought his weight vest; the heavy vest worked so much better than a hug to calm him down – he wasn’t fond of other people touching him.
         The door to the pool area opened. Mindy, the young instructor, poked her head through.
         “Hey,” she called, spotting Karen cuddling Seth on the bench. “Just wanted to let you know the lesson started about five minutes ago.”
         Karen nodded. “We’re just calming down. She upset him again.”
         “She would,” Mindy scowled. “Okay, just come on out when he’s ready.”
         She started to withdraw, but Seth was already pushing himself from Karen’s lap. He trotted eagerly to his instructor, a shy smile on his face.
         “Hello, Miss Mindy. How are you today?” he recited in a rush, fixing his eyes somewhere on Mindy’s left shoulder. Karen smiled, feeling a knot in her throat. He’d practiced that all week.
         Mindy looked surprised. “I’m just fine, Seth. How are you doing today?”
         Seth smiled at the floor. Mindy waited for a minute and then glanced at Karen uncomfortably.
         “Um, are you ready to swim?” she finally asked.
         He nodded. She reached for his hand and he yanked it away, hiding his hands behind his back. Mindy’s face turned red.
         “Here, Seth,” Karen called quickly, trying to cover up the awkward moment. “Don’t forget your towel.”
         She got up to hand him the towel, and then they followed Mindy to the pool. He dropped the towel on the tile and ran for the water, jumping in with a huge splash. Karen groaned inwardly as the water splashed over the little girl waiting neck-deep in the shallows. She coughed, rubbing at her eyes.
         “Can’t you even try to control him?” the grandmother hissed at Karen. “It’s not fair that my granddaughter has to be punished every week because you can’t handle your child.”
         Karen picked up Seth’s towel. She climbed the small set of bleachers, trying to put as much distance between herself and the other woman as possible.
         Her stomach churned as she settled herself on the bench; she’d been nauseated every lesson after that first horrible week. She wished she hadn’t told Seth there were six lessons in this series. She wished they had been able to afford private lessons, instead of semi-private.
         It had seemed like such a God-send at first. Seth, after spending years being completely terrified of the water, had abruptly developed a passion for swimming last summer and – in the obsessive way he pursued everything he loved – couldn’t get enough of it. Excited, Karen signed him up for lessons this summer as soon as they were available. They knew Seth wouldn’t be able to handle the bustle and confusion of a group lesson, but only one other child should have been doable. Swimming helped with his coordination and gross motor skills, and the physical therapist had been thrilled to find out they were planning to enroll Seth (“It will be such a positive experience for him!”).
         “It’s bad enough that you make us wait for the lesson to start,” the woman on the bottom bench snorted loudly, turning her head to make sure Karen could hear her, “but then he wastes our class time refusing to listen.”
         Seth was trying to balance on the kickboard the teacher had given him, completely ignoring Mindy as she talked. She could tell that he was hopelessly distracted and off-task. She felt her heart sink. She had privately been nursing a little fantasy that Seth would be spot on today, and would put the witch’s little granddaughter to shame.
         In the water, Seth – completely oblivious to Mindy’s request for him to float on his back – began spinning in circles as fast as he could. The little girl edged away from him. Karen tried not to cringe. She loved him so much it hurt. It killed her to watch him opening himself up for ridicule.
         “What is wrong with him?” the woman wondered loudly.
         Karen gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t rise to the bait again. She’d told the woman the first week that he was autistic, and the woman’s response had been, “I work professionally with children. Autism is no excuse for bad behavior.” Karen had been so shocked that she’d gaped at the woman like an idiot, completely unable to form another sentence.
         In the pool, Mindy lifted Seth out of the pool and sat him on the edge, talking to him intently, their foreheads almost touching. Seth focused on her, his eyes actually fixed on her face.
         He’s listening, Karen thought with a thrill.
         Mindy slid Seth back into the water and onto his back. Karen bit her lip. The backstroke was terribly hard for Seth. Not only did he lack the coordination to move his arms independently, the large backwards rotation was something his body just didn’t seem to be able to handle.
         Slowly, one arm made a large arc and splashed into the water. The other arm thrashed a little, and then lifted slowly. Seth raised it almost halfway before clumsily splashing in down in the water. Mindy stood next to him, supporting his back, patiently coaching him as he struggled. His legs jerked around in a frenzied dance, only slightly resembling the kicking motion he was trying for. Drops from his flailing peppered most of the shallow end. The little girl covered her eyes. Mindy just kept talking, not even bothering to wipe her face.
         Karen watched, heart full, as Seth managed stroke after painful stroke. Almost none of the arm movements made the full rotation and there was no sense of rhythm, but Karen felt her eyes brim with tears.
         He’s doing it! Karen couldn’t wait to tell Steve.
         “God, he looks awful. Didn’t you ever put him in sports?” the woman asked critically. “Don’t you know they need physical activity to develop their muscles properly?”
         The happy feeling burst like a pricked bubble.
         “Do you ever mind your own business?” she asked. Her voice trembled, and Karen felt a stab of self-disgust. Why can’t you stand up to her?
         “You made it my business when you ruined swimming for us.”
         “I ruined it for you?” Karen fought the urge to laugh hysterically.
         “Yes,” spat the woman. “I’ll be writing a complaint to the director. I expect a full apology when she gets back from vacation. I should expect that your son will be banned from the pool.” She smiled nastily at Karen.
         Karen didn’t bother to answer. She was acquainted with Marge, the director, and had no fears that Seth would be banned from anything. In fact, had Marge been in town, this whole disaster would probably have been averted. Marge had no problem sitting in with a class and telling off an over-zealous parent. Mindy was young – early twenties at best – and insecure with her authority. She didn’t know how to handle the woman’s brusque attitude.
         “You do realize,” Karen spoke up suddenly, before she lost her nerve, “that it’s you that’s upsetting him? He –”
         “Yes, of course,” the woman sneered, “it’s all my fault. You are so pathetic, trying to blame your son’s behavior on me. You young parents are all the same – it’s never your fault. You have no idea how to raise children. My children never behaved like that.” She threw a hand out to gesture at the pool, where Mindy was coaching her granddaughter at the backstroke and Seth was using a pool noodle to blow water into the air.
         Karen bit back the obvious response – the woman’s birthday had been two weeks ago and she’d made a big deal out of it – if she and her children were so perfect, then why did she have a granddaughter this old when she was only thirty-eight? She wished she had the nerve to say it. Politeness had been drilled too deeply into her, and some lessons seemed impossible to unlearn.
         She reached up to scratch her nose, catching a faint whiff of gasoline. The import of what she’d done in the parking lot hit her, and a thrill of fear swept through her. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and glued her eyes to the pool, firmly ignoring the other woman for the rest of the lesson.
         At last it was over. Karen wrapped Seth in his towel, putting her mouth close to his ear to tell him how proud she was of him. Several feet away, the little girl clung to her towel while her grandmother yelled at Mindy.
         “You couldn’t control your class,” she fumed. “They could never be on time – they were always rushing in at the last minute and you just let it go.”
         Mindy let the woman’s venom roll over her, the same way she had at all of the other lessons. “I said before,” she said, her voice tight, “if you have a problem you can contact the main office.”
         “I’ll be writing a letter,” the woman threatened, and dragged her granddaughter into the locker room.
         “I’m sorry,” Karen said after the door had banged shut behind her.
         Mindy waved her hand dismissively. “Please,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t you. I don’t know how you manage to ignore her; you are a saint. I’d have thrown her in the pool. And he did great!” She gave Seth a smile. “I’m proud of you.”
         Seth smiled at the pool. “I like to swim,” he said clearly.
         Karen hugged his thin body, not caring that it left a wet streak down her shirt. “Let’s get you changed.”
         She let Seth take his time changing, giving the grandmother plenty of time to leave before emerging from the changing room. When Seth finally put on his sandals, she heard him humming to himself. Karen recognized the music from the game on her phone.
         “Hey, I’m about to lock up. How’re you guys doing?” Mindy asked.
         “We’re ready,” Karen replied. She picked up the swim bag and followed Mindy out.
         She was glad she had waited; the blue car was gone. Karen smiled. She wished she could have said something to the woman – some sort of hint – so that when it happened, the woman would know Karen had done it.
         She’ll probably know anyway, Karen thought smugly, waving goodbye to Mindy. But she won’t be able to prove a thing. That’s the important thing.
         She helped Seth into the car, buckling his seatbelt for him. He was thoroughly pleased with himself, humming and bouncing a little in the seat as she started the car.
         “I did good, didn’t I, Mommy?”
         “Yes, you did, darling. Yes, you did.”
         They pulled out of the parking lot, Seth quiet in the backseat, Karen alternating between relief that the lessons were over and nervousness that she be found out. Then she’d remember the look on Seth’s face when that woman had called him names and a wave of rage would sweep over her again.
         She deserved it, Karen thought as they passed an immaculate blue car broken down on the side of the road, thick smoke reeking of diesel pouring from it. That’ll teach her. The thought was strangely empty.
         Karen drove past, trying to recapture the warm glow of satisfaction from earlier. She glanced at her phone: twenty after two. The garbage truck would be at her house any minute. She sped up, not caring, for once, that she was over the speed limit.
         The garbage truck was just starting to collect on the end of her street. She breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled into the driveway. Leaving her door open and the keys in the ignition, she quickly pulled the trash bag from the trunk and carried it to the bin waiting on the curb.
         Seth hopped out of the car, covering his ears and watching with interest as the truck pulled up with a roar from the engine and a hiss from the brakes. Karen stayed next to him, watching as their bin was lifted and their trash – including a black hoodie, a ski mask, latex gloves, and a gas can smelling of diesel fuel – was dumped into the compactor.