Unlocked : a Love Story Part 2

Waiting for Kate wasn't part of his routine, and Tracy had been concerned all day that the change could throw Holden into a tantrum. She watched him, studying him. So far, so good. Holden liked Kate -at least from what Tracy had seen last night when the child arrived with her things.

Tracy made small talk, telling Holden about a few of her customers, all while Holden stared at the tree line across the street. A minute later Kate's bus came into view. Relief washed over Tracy. "There it is!" She stayed at Holden's side. "Kate's bus." She smiled at him. "Kate can watch the movie with us today."

Holden swayed a little, still humming, still intent on something just out of reach.

The bus stopped and Kate scrambled out, her pale blonde hair framing her tanned face, her SpongeBob backpack almost half her size. Her face lit up when she saw them. "Aunt Tracy, hi!" She ran toward them, her eyes s.h.i.+ning. "It was the best first day ever." She danced over to Holden and hugged him around his waist. "Hi Holden!"

Holden's posture stiffened some, but he didn't pull away or cry out. Something about Kate's childlike innocence, her youthful heart and love for people, seemed to connect with him.

Kate bounced back to Tracy. "And guess what? Teacher said it's okay that I missed last week. She's gonna help me make it up!"

"Perfect!" Tracy liked the smile in her voice. She reached for Kate's hand. "Let's get home, and I'll fix you a snack."

"Okay, and then me and Holden are watching a movie, right? That's what Mommy told me. Holden watches movies every day."

Tracy hid a ripple of laughter. "Sort of. You might get tired of it after a while." She looked over at her son. "Right, Holden?"

He moved his gaze to the ground near his feet and then up to the sky again. They started walking with Kate between them. Kate still had hold of Tracy's hand, but she seemed to know instinctively not to reach for Holden's. "Teacher says we each have a cubby with our name on it and we put our spelling in the red box and pick it up the next day in the yellow box and guess what?" Her enthusiasm was beyond refres.h.i.+ng.

"What?" Tracy treasured the feel of her little-girl hand, the way Kate clung to her, needing her. The moment made her realize again how much she'd missed with Holden.

"Teacher says two recesses, not one. Isn't that the best news, Aunt Tracy? Two recesses!" She giggled and skipped for a few steps. "And guess what else?"

They were almost at the apartment door. "What, sweetie?"

"Dance and music cla.s.s! Every Wednesdays and Friday. That's the best news for first graders." Her expression grew serious. "Kindygartners don't have dance and music, even at my old school." She stopped short. "Will I ever go back to my old school?"

"Yes, honey." Tracy loved this, her niece's energy and pa.s.sion. It was a tremendous change from her usual time with Holden. "Next year you'll be back."

"Okay, good. 'Cause Sarah and Tessa aren't at this school and we're bestest friends."

"I'm sure they miss you."

Kate looked sad for a few seconds, but then her eyes sparkled again. "But this 'venture will give me lots to tell them, right?"

"Right."

She looked at Holden as they walked. "Right, Holden?" Holden s.h.i.+fted his gaze, but still he didn't look straight at Kate.

Kate gave him a sympathetic smile. "Holden's shy, right, Aunt Tracy?"

"He is." Tracy's heart ached at the way even little children immediately knew something was different about Holden. "He loves you very much, Kate. He just doesn't really talk much."

"That's okay." She nodded in Holden's direction. "I love you, too, Holden." She patted his arm, and again he didn't jerk away.

As they reached their apartment, Holden sorted through his PECS cards and held out the television card, the one that read "Movie." Tracy tried to take hold of it, the way she always did. But this time Holden pulled it back, keeping the card close to his chest.

Kate watched the exchange, clearly bewildered. "What's he doing?"

"Just a minute, honey ..." She held up her finger to Kate, her words gentle.

Kate nodded, anxious to understand. She looked at Holden, her eyes wide, curious.

Tracy turned to her son. Had something happened at school, something that had made him less secure? "I understand, Holden." She kept her tone calm. "You don't want me to hold the card." She smiled, her voice pleasant. "That's fine. You want your movie. I understand." She didn't want to upset him. When he was upset he would drop to the ground and rattle off a string of push-ups. Something his therapists had never seen in a kid with autism. Tens and hundreds of push-ups.

That was bound to frighten Kate, so Tracy wanted to at least get the three of them inside just in case.

"Why does he have those cards?" Kate angled her head, trying to understand. "Is it like a game?"

"Yes." Keep it simple, Keep it simple, she told herself. Kate didn't need more than a basic understanding of her cousin. "Holden uses cards to talk sometimes. Like a game." she told herself. Kate didn't need more than a basic understanding of her cousin. "Holden uses cards to talk sometimes. Like a game."

"Oh!" Kate bounced around and clapped her small hands a few times. "I love games."

Holden lifted his eyes to the sky, and as always Tracy was amazed at how striking they were. Ice blue, with a depth that was almost otherworldly.

They needed to get inside. "Let's go watch our movie." She opened the door, and Holden and Kate followed.

"Can I help make snack?" Kate ran to the kitchen and set her backpack on one of the chairs. "Mommy lets me help make the snack every day."

"I'd love some help." Tracy walked with Kate to the kitchen. Holden's routine was so exact she could predict his every action. He set his backpack on the floor, kept the PECS cards tight in his hands, and crossed the room to the single sofa that stood beneath the lone window in the living room. In a series of practiced motions he stood the three sofa pillows in a perfect row and then patted out every wrinkle in all three of them. When they looked like something from a magazine, he moved to the white curtains that hung on either side of the window. Meticulously he straightened them, making sure every pleat was neat and straight.

The routine took awhile, and Kate didn't seem to notice. She was distracted by her work in the kitchen. She helped get out the string cheese and apple juice, carrots, and raisins. "I love raisins, Aunt Tracy." She giggled. "Maybe I'll live here forever."

"Maybe." Tracy loved the energy Kate brought to their small apartment. "Of course, your mom and dad would miss you an awful lot."

"True." Her smile faded for a few seconds. "I miss them so much, Aunt Tracy. So, so much. First Mommy, now Daddy."

Tracy held out her arms and Kate came to her, holding her the way a child was supposed to hold on. Taking in all the love and comfort and support she could get. This is what it feels like to be needed, This is what it feels like to be needed, Tracy thought. It must kill Holly and Aaron to be away from her. Tracy thought. It must kill Holly and Aaron to be away from her.

The moment pa.s.sed and they made up the plates. Tracy kept Holden's diet gluten free, the way she'd been doing since he was five. She had never seen his diet make much difference, but it didn't hurt to try. Gluten-free was one of the many recommendations that had come from his nutritionist.

He finished tidying the living room and found his place at the kitchen table. Kate sat beside him with Tracy across the table. She folded her hands, her elbows spread out to either side on the small table. "Let's pray, okay?"

Kate squeezed her eyes shut, her head bowed. Holden tore his string cheese into tiny pieces and lined them along the outer edge of the plate. He didn't look at her, didn't speak.

Tracy bowed her head. "Dear G.o.d, thank you for this food. Please bless it to our bodies. Thank you that Kate can be with us for the next few months, and thank you for Holden. Let him know how much we love him. In Jesus' name, amen."

Now that his cheese pieces circled the plate, Holden made another inner circle of carrot pieces, and a third circle of raisins. Not until that task was finished did he eat the first bite. Tracy didn't have to watch to know what he would do next. He would eat his food in the exact order he'd laid it out on the plate. Not one bite out of order.

Kate noticed the pattern right off. "I like your circles. I'll eat my snack like that too." She arranged her food in circles on her plate and ate them in order, the way Holden did. Halfway through, she giggled up at him. "You're fun, Holden."

Again Tracy's heart was pierced by the child's innocent comment. Holden had no friends, no one who had ever told him he was fun. Not since he was three, anyway.

Kate chattered on about recess and lunch and how she liked the taste of milk in a cardboard carton. When she grew tired of talking, Tracy turned to Holden. "You had music today, Holden. You love music."

No response.

She remembered the new PECS cards. "And guess what? New cards, Holden! Music cards. I already printed them. I'll laminate them this afternoon." She hurried from the table to the counter and brought the package of printed cards to Holden. "Remember? Your music cards were too old, so I'm making you new ones." She set the envelope in front of him and waited, silently praying that he might pick it up on his own, be interested enough in the contents to search what was inside.

But he only looked up again, this time at a spot just above her. Kate watched, again curious at Holden's silence.

"I think he's going to like the cards, Aunt Tracy." She nodded big, her wispy blonde hair bouncing around her face. "I can tell."

"Me too." She didn't let herself feel discouraged. "Holden, those are the music cards. The ones I'm going to laminate. So they'll last longer." She pulled the new cards from the envelope and handed them to Holden. "One hundred and twenty music cards!"

"Wow... one hundred and twenty is a whole lot of cards! I never had that many cards!" Kate grinned at Holden. "Right, isn't that great?"

Holden was interested, Tracy was sure. But nothing about his expression showed it. He ignored her and Kate and the new cards and instead picked up the PECS cards he carried with him everywhere, the ones from his backpack. He sorted through them half a dozen times and after a minute he flashed her a card that read "Thank you."

Tracy's heart soared. Her son had thanked her! He'd been doing this, using the cards to communicate once in while for a few years. It was why his therapists thought he was making such progress. The therapists worked hours on end helping Holden understand what the cards meant, how the pictures matched the words, and how they could be used appropriately. There was no way to tell if Holden actually read the words, or just understood what they meant by sight familiarity. Not while he was so completely non-communicative.

That's why moments like this were such a victory -Holden using his PECS cards to thank her.

She smiled at him. "You're welcome." Then she reached slowly for the new music cards and one at a time she held them out to him, explaining their meaning, reading the words at the bottom of each one.

Kate repeated the words as they went, but eventually she finished her snack and cleared her plate to the sink. Then she pointed to the living room. "I have to read, so I'll wait out there. For the movie, okay?"

"Okay, sweetie." Tracy watched her leave. She was so sweet, so much fun and energy. But Tracy needed time alone with Holden, so this was perfect. She held up a music card, one with musical notes and a heart in the middle. "See this one?"

He didn't look. Instead he mixed through the deck he was more familiar with, intent on whichever card was on top of the stack.

"This one says 'I love music.' See? It has music notes and a heart. Hearts stand for love, love, remember?" remember?"

Holden tapped the table, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

Tracy moved to the next card. This one had music notes and an oversized ear. "This one says 'I can hear the music.' "

Holden blinked at that, and for half a second he looked at the card. But then, just as quickly, he looked away again.

"That's okay, Holden. I understand." She felt tears gather in her eyes, and she fought them back. "You can hear the music. I know you can." Nothing.

She went over half the cards in the deck, but by then his snack was gone, which meant she had only a small window of time to get his movie going. She left the music cards on the table. His therapist would help him use them the right way, and in time Holden would work them into his days.

"Okay, movie time." She kept her smile in place in case he was watching. Even from his peripheral vision. There was no deciding which movie to watch. It was the same every day. If she tried something new, he would pace the living room, agitated and grunting, or drop down and rattle off thirty push-ups.

She'd made the DVD years ago on her Mac-a gift from Dan on one of his visits home after a particularly good month at sea. It was a thirty-minute movie of photos and video clips from before Holden's diagnosis. Back when he was like any other little boy. Before the nine vaccinations he received the week after this third birthday-not that anyone had officially linked vaccinations to autism. Still, Tracy couldn't help but wonder.

She walked into the living room where Kate was reading a thin paperback book, her legs sticking straight out as she sat back into the sofa. "Is it movie time?"

"Yes, honey." She wondered if Kate would be disappointed when she realized what type of movie it was.

"Where's Holden?"

She smiled. "He'll be here."

The DVD was already in the player, so she hit the power b.u.t.ton and turned on the TV. Seconds later the loop at the beginning of the movie was on the screen, the music filling the small room. The song was one Holden used to sing with her as a little boy. Never Be the Same Never Be the Same by Christopher Cross. by Christopher Cross.

The music was melodic and meaningful, the message heart-wrenching.

The first notes drew Holden from the kitchen to his spot, cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV.

"Is that where we sit?" Kate hopped down from the sofa and took the spot next to Holden, their knees touching. Holden didn't acknowledge Kate, but he didn't move away, either.

This should be interesting. Tracy studied the two-small Kate, with her abundance of love and buzzing energy, and Holden -quiet and indifferent by all indications. Tracy picked up the remote control and sat in the old recliner. She knew better than to jump to the beginning of the movie. For Holden, the loop was part of the experience. So she let the song play out, let the images run across the screen. Tracy studied the two-small Kate, with her abundance of love and buzzing energy, and Holden -quiet and indifferent by all indications. Tracy picked up the remote control and sat in the old recliner. She knew better than to jump to the beginning of the movie. For Holden, the loop was part of the experience. So she let the song play out, let the images run across the screen.

Holden as an infant, safe in her arms ... Dan standing beside them, his hand on her shoulder. Holden as a six-month-old sitting up, grinning at the camera. Holden and Ella Reynolds, eighteen months old, holding hands on the sh.o.r.e of Tybee Island. Holden and Ella dancing on the Reynolds' kitchen floor.

"Is that Holden?" Kate looked over her shoulder.

"Yes. Holden when he was younger."

"It looks like him." She nodded, thoughtful, and turned back to the screen. "My mom has movies of when I was little."

Tracy hid her smile and the sorrow that quickly followed. Kate was still little, of course. But already she was decades beyond Holden in her ability to relate to people.

The song reached the chorus, the part where Holden always started to rock. Not dramatically, but enough that Tracy believed this part of the song really spoke to him. She sang quietly along. "And I'll never be the same without you here. I'll live alone. Hide myself behind my tears. And I'll never be the same without your love ..."

No matter how many days they sat here this way, or how many times she heard this song or watched this movie with him, the tears came. Tracy dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She didn't want Holden to see her cry, but there was no way around the heartache that came with the home movie.

They reached the end of the song on the intro loop, and Tracy started the actual movie. This was the hardest part, seeing Holden the way he had been, watching him laugh and sing and look straight in the camera. "Hi, Mommy! See me, Mommy? I'm looking right at you!"

Kate giggled. "I like you there, Holden. You're funny!"

He didn't respond, but Kate didn't act offended. She turned her attention to the movie again.

The Reynolds family was in several of the videos because back then the two families had done everything together. The couples had been friends in high school, the best men and maids of honor for each other's weddings. They had babies at the same time, and Holden and Ella were together constantly before they could walk or talk.

Tracy and Suzanne would delight over the friends.h.i.+p between their children, dreaming of the day when they were older. "I can see it now," Suzanne would say. "Holden will take Ella to her senior prom and five years later they'll get married." Her laughter would lend brevity to the prediction. "We'll arrange the whole thing right now. Deal?"

Tracy's laughter would mix in. "Deal." Neither of them was serious, of course, but the possibility remained. There seemed no reason why the two wouldn't grow up together, no hint that a senior prom or even a wedding some day was out of the question.

But in the fall after Holden's third birthday, he began to slip through their fingers. Week after week he grew quieter, more withdrawn, and the visits with the Reynolds grew more infrequent. After Holden's diagnosis, Suzanne explained in a teary, awkward way that they weren't sure it was good for Ella, playing with Holden.

"He doesn't talk." Suzanne's face looked pained. "He won't look in her eyes anymore. He ... he lines up their toys over and over like he's in a world all his own. Something's wrong with him, Tracy. He needs help."

She didn't say she was officially ending their friends.h.i.+p. She didn't have to. Her husband, Randy, was a baseball player and about that time he was called up to the majors. He played for the Mets for ten years, and when the Reynolds family moved to New York, they lost touch. Four years ago Tracy read that Randy Reynolds had been traded to the Braves, so most likely they were back in the Atlanta area.

Tracy no longer wondered what they were doing or how life had fared for them. She wouldn't think of them at all, except that here was Ella -dancing and singing with Holden on the home movie they watched every day. Ella would be a senior in high school now. She wouldn't know or remember Holden. That part didn't matter. What mattered was all she represented for Holden today.

He stared at the movie, never looking away, intent on every detail. Today Ella represented hope and possibility, the chance that someday G.o.d might grant them a miracle and Holden would find his way back. That one day he might sing and laugh and hold hands with a friend again.

Tracy had seen enough. She stood quietly and went to her bedroom. Holden was at a strange place on the autism spectrum, because other than an occasional grunt or cry or humming sound, he was completely non-communicative. Usually kids -even kids on the severe end of the spectrum -developed some language by now. Not Holden... not ever. He had the PECS cards, and that was it. Even so, the day Tracy stopped talking to him would be the day she gave up. And that wasn't going to happen.

The cool morning had given way to a hot, humid afternoon, so she slipped into a T-s.h.i.+rt, shorts, and flip-flops. As she did, she caught a look at herself in the mirror. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her face looked thin and drawn. Back before Holden's diagnosis, people used to say she looked like Courtney c.o.x. But not anymore. She looked tired and sad and old. Older than her thirty-nine years, anyway.

Come on, Tracy ... where's your smile? She lifted the corners of her mouth, but the action didn't reach her eyes. She returned to the kitchen, walking softly so she didn't pull Holden or Kate from the movie, and she sat again at the kitchen table. Holden's therapy was four-thirty to six today, same as always. Kate would bring her book, and they'd read together. Otherwise, everything about her days with Holden were built around a routine. Even during summer-when all-day therapy replaced his school hours. The walk back to the apartment, the snack, the movie, the late-afternoon session. She lifted the corners of her mouth, but the action didn't reach her eyes. She returned to the kitchen, walking softly so she didn't pull Holden or Kate from the movie, and she sat again at the kitchen table. Holden's therapy was four-thirty to six today, same as always. Kate would bring her book, and they'd read together. Otherwise, everything about her days with Holden were built around a routine. Even during summer-when all-day therapy replaced his school hours. The walk back to the apartment, the snack, the movie, the late-afternoon session.

All of it the same.