Once Upon a Time in Emmitsburg

I finally did turn around. I was ready to cry. I saw their faces; the same phony sympathy. Even Darla had it. I said, "It's not fair. It's just not fair. Am I a retard? I don't know. I guess maybe I am. Everybody says so."

Mrs. Grummond was coming toward me. I broke down. I started to cry. I didn't run though. Once the tears started, I couldn't stop. This had been my big chance. I was making my own money. I had a bank account. I got to be around two pretty girls. I had some place to go. I was helping someone. Then one word, one word and I was nobody again. I wanted to turn around and run, just run. I was Forrest Gump! Only Forrest had a mother, and I had nobody!

The next thing I knew Mrs. Grummond had her arms around me. She had her hankie out. She was wiping away my tears. That made me cry even harder. Then all of a sudden Darla was beside me. She was hugging me! I felt her breath on my cheek. I cried even more!

Amber sat there and was really quiet. She had a strange look on her face. I wished I knew what she was thinking. I figured she probably hated me.

They walked me back up to the porch. They sat me down on one of the steps. Mrs. Grummond asked me, "Tell us Timmy what happened? Why do people treat you so?"

I slowly stopped crying, but I kept hiccoughing and breathing heavy. I couldn't get my breath. Finally, I got out, "My mom and dad are dead. I'm an orphan. There was an accident. I don't remember. There were hospitals. I had a lot of procedures. They said I hit my head, but my legs were bad too. One's shorter than the other. I get headaches."

I looked up at Mrs. Grummond, "I'm not stupid though. I can think. I can keep up. I mean at school I can keep up, but sometimes I can't get the words out. I mean I want to say something, but nothing comes out."

Mrs. Grummond kept wiping my face, "You're surely not having any trouble talking now Tim."

That made me start to cry again. I had to say something. I had to tell her, "You're nice to me. You and Darla and Amber never make faces." I rolled my eyes and frowned at Amber. Then I said, "You always listen. You act like I have something to say. You don't pretend to listen; you aren't like other people. You don't pretend."

Mrs. Grummond touched her temple, "So you're Aunt Katherine. Is she really your aunt?'

I answered, "She says she is. I'm a foster child. Aunt Katherine and Mr. Cameron get paid to take care of me. I don't mind, not really. I mean I remember the other place."

"Other place," Amber asked?

"There was a big room with lots of beds. It had green floors. Linoleum I think. All the other boys were older. Some were there because they got in trouble. You had to be good. You had to obey the men, but the older boys had rules too. If you did something wrong, they messed with your food. They'd spit in it and pee in it. You knew because after you ate there'd always be a writing on the plate. The 'F' word."

Amber asked, "Did that ever happen to you?"

I answered, "One time." I had to stop, say something more, "I know you don't believe me. No one ever did. Everyone said they were good to the boys at that place. If I ever said anything they'd say I was a troublemaker and a liar. Liars and troublemakers always got punished."

Amber asked, "Did they ever punish you?"

I said, "Yes, only once."

Mrs. Grummond asked, "What was the punishment?"

"They had a big paddle," I said.

Mrs. Grummond said, "They spanked you with the paddle?"

I knew what she was thinking. I knew I couldn't tell her the truth. No one ever believed the truth so I said, "Yes, I got a spanking."

Mrs. Grummond remarked, "This was after the accident where you..."

I said, "Yes, after the hospitals too."

Mrs. Grummond stood up. She held out her hand, "Come inside. I have a whole plate of doughnuts and milk."

I got up. Darla and Amber got up also. We all went inside. I still cried some, but they were all so nice, even Amber.

After that afternoon nobody ever said anything. I got to keep coming to Mrs. Grummond's. Darla and Amber were always nice to me, but none of their private school girlfriends ever came to Mrs. Grummond's again.

I worked hard for Mrs. Grummond all that spring. The girls came by less, but when they came, we all had a good time. I found out the girl's father had heard about my "special situation" and liked me even less. He didn't want his daughters associating with someone like me. I knew this because Darla told me. Darla said her father said I was from the wrong side of the railroad tracks. That hurt almost as much as anything. I really liked the girls. They were so pretty.

We planted a lot of new flowers, and we used fertilizer Mrs. Grummond bought to help the ones growing from past years. I felt a growing sense of pride, and for a lot of reasons. For one I was watching things grow that I helped start, and second, I know I was helping Mrs. Grummond keep her house. A third thing, and I felt the biggest of all; I was freer than I'd ever been, and at the same time Mrs. Grummond was staying free.

Darla and Amber's dad and mom did stop by once while we were working outside. The girls were there and they got real quiet, but Mrs. Grummond got louder and more active. She gave me orders all over the place, and I listened and obeyed each one. I could tell Mr. Wexler, that was Darla and Amber's dad's last name, was getting mad. Mrs. Wexler, the girls' mom, watched and smiled the whole time. Once she even laughed. I liked her almost right away. Her first name was Genevieve. I thought it was a very pretty name. She was pretty like her daughters. She had eyes the same color as Amber's. Amber's eyes were violet. They were the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen. I could look at her eyes and feel calm right away.

The school year ended. My homeroom teacher said I passed by the skin of my teeth, and that I better shape up because the tenth grade was where they separated the wheat from the chaff. She thought I didn't understand what she meant. I pretended I didn't; it always made it easier to let people believe what they wanted. If someone like me let them know we understood things, they only got mad. Both Darla and Amber passed too. Of course, I knew they would. Darla was going into the ninth grade and Amber was going to be an eleventh grader. Amber and I were both the same age. I was looking forward to the summer.

That summer was partly good but partly bad too. Mrs. Grummond was wonderful. I had my jobs, and I did them well. I spent most of my days around her house. She paid me for everything, but the money seemed to matter and less and less. I loved that old woman. I pretended she was my grandmother.

I thought I'd see a lot more of Darla and Amber, but that didn't happen; they lived in an entirely different world than me. The week after they graduated both were on their first summer trips; Darla went to Yellowstone and Amber, being older, got to go to Europe. After that they were both back and forth between places like San Diego, Victoria, Canada, New Zealand, and Scotland. Every time they got home; they'd share all their experiences with me. They'd show me pictures. They were so happy, so carefree and so nice I had to enjoy their stories. The tough part was I was starting to realize just what I was missing. Every trip they took, every experience they described only made me feel lonelier.

I had no plans except to help Mrs. Grummond and of course, do a heck of a lot more at the Cameron's. I think Mr. Cameron resented my relationship with Mrs. Grummond. He never came right out and said anything, but I'd come to know the man, he was like a "one-eyed Jack". Brandon was the son. I was the person who lived in the cellar.

Brandon never did very much; maybe empty the trash every week or so. I did all the menial work. Mr. Cameron decided since I was cutting grass for Mrs. Grummond I could do it at "home". We had a half-acre lot at "home", and an old Toro push mower. Cutting, weeding, and trimming became "home" staples. Around mid-summer when it got real hot Mr. Cameron decided someone needed to pressure wash the vinyl siding. That meant of, course, scrubbing it with a brush and bleach. The house was a two-story hence I had to use an extension pole to get the top. I got everything but the soffits. Meanwhile my Aunt Katherine started complaining about her back so inside cleaning, the laundry, and a lot of other stuff nobody ever worried about became a bigger part of my life. I didn't get paid for any of it.

Brandon got his driver's license, and a car. Once he told me I was supposed to keep it washed. I told him to kiss my ass. He told his father, and yeah, washing Brandon's car became a part of my repertoire. I started to feel like Cinderella, and with the girls gone so much, jerking off wasn't as much fun.

When school resumed in the fall things certainly did get different. First, no one could deny that, though I might be behind in the Language Arts my mathematical competency was without question. I was re-diagnosed! I was no longer the "retard"; they decided I was autistic! This was unbelievable, because I was good with numbers but short on English and a little backward with the social skills, I was crazy in another way. My "so called" guidance counselor made me sit down and watch this old movie titled "Rain Man". At first I enjoyed it, but pretty soon as I watched the movie and my "counselor" watched me I came to the realization, as far as the movie was concerned, I wasn't the cool Tom Cruise, I was the weird Dustin Hoffman! Why would she make me watch something like that? Weren't there rules or something?

I ended up getting suspended for three days over what happened. About two-thirds through the movie I got up and switched the television off. I turned to the "guidance counselor" and said, "You think I'm that nut job Hoffman." I was really pissed! I exclaimed, "Jesus Christ! I'd never get mad and throw a fit if I couldn't watch something as stupid as Judge Wopner? Fuck!" I said, "I don't even know who Judge Wopner is!"

The guidance counselor got scared. She called in one of the administrators who called the school security policeman. I got sent home and Aunt Katherine had to come to school. Even crazier, they got some social worker to come in too. They all sat inside and talked about me while I sat outside in the hallway. Eventually they let me in. I was given a warning. The administrator explained they had a special school where they sent disruptive children. If I didn't straighten up and fly right, I'd be expelled from Lake Pamunkey and get sent there.

I thought back to before when I was at that other place. I knew I was probably screwed, but I asked them one thing. I asked if there wasn't some test. I said I meant an English test or something that might show just how far behind I was. The social worker, Aunt Katherine, the guidance counselor, and the administrator all looked at me like I was from Mars. To my surprise it was the school security guard who spoke up. He said I'd never been a problem, and he didn't see any harm in finding out how far behind I was. I swear to God they all sat there and argued about me having to take some stupid test like it was one of the labors of Hercules. See, I'd been reading my mythology. I got it; nobody wanted to take the time to give it to me. Finally, they did agree. I got sent to school board headquarters where some Psychologist sat with me while I read and answered a lot of bullshit questions.

The Psychologist was rude and ignorant, but at least she scored the test while I was there. She didn't tell me anything, but she didn't have to, I knew I'd done pretty well. What all the assholes didn't know, and I hadn't told them was that Mrs. Grummond had seen how I was behind and she'd started working with me. When the results came back, I was still behind, but only behind for my age. I was reading and functioning as well as any tenth grader.

One thing I was absolutely glad of. All that spring and summer when Mrs. Grummond had been working with me, I never told anyone about the help I'd been getting. The sisters knew, but no one else. It occurred to me, if anyone else knew they would have prevented me from going to Mrs. Grummond's. I'd already learned when people make up their minds about someone or something they hardly ever change.

I got reinstated. No one asked me to watch anymore stupid movies, but they still kept me in the slowest English classes. I didn't care. Thanks to Mrs. Grummond I had a library card! I could read whatever I wanted. I'd watched "Lonesome Dove" on the television so I got that book out of the library. Pretty soon I was hooked on Larry McMurtry. I'd sneak something he wrote in and read it while I sat in my "dummy" English class, 'How's that for a stupid moron?'

The tenth grade brought about some serious new changes. For one I had a whole new set of jobs at Mrs. Grummond's -leaves! Who would've believed all those big beautiful Oak trees would dump on me like that? Mrs. Grummond was getting weaker. She knew it and I knew it; we both worked assiduously to keep it from her son-in-law, but I knew he knew too.

Mrs. Grummond got a woman to come in to help her three days a week. The woman was a single mom who had a little kid and who drove an older SUV. I didn't trust her right from the start. She wore rubber gloves when she did all her work, and I noticed quite often she would leave her little boy with Mrs. Grummond in the living room while she cleaned upstairs and in the back rooms. I was supposed to be stupid, but I knew what she was doing. I stopped my work outside one fall day, I slipped back inside, and spied on her. Sure enough, I caught her going through one of Mrs. Grummond's old upstairs bureaus.

Mrs. Grummond's husband had been a well-respected doctor, and she only had the one child, Genevieve. There were odds and ends all over the house that Mrs. Grummond had kept because of their sentimental value, but many of those odd and ends were also quite valuable. Mrs. Grummond even had an old painting in her drawing room. I recognized it right away; it was an old Picasso. I was proud that I knew who painted it. I asked Mrs. Grummond where she got it. She said her husband had bought it for her when they were in Paris. It seemed her husband had seen it in the back of an old apothecary. The owner didn't know how much it was worth and her husband was able to buy it for a song.

I caught the cleaning lady with her rubber gloved hands rooting through one of Mrs. Grummond's bureaus. I saw she'd already sneaked out an old pocket watch. I confronted her. She retaliated. I went in and told Mrs. Grummond and that was the end of that cleaning lady. It was too bad we couldn't openly accuse her of stealing; if we had Mrs. Grummond's son-in-law might use that as an excuse to try to put her away. Mrs. Grummond was terrified at the prospect of leaving her home, and I didn't blame her.

There was only one woman I believed we could trust to help take care of Mrs. Grummond; that was my Aunt Katherine. I had a secret talk with her, and she agreed to start "visiting" Mrs. Grummond three times a week. It turned out Aunt Katherine wouldn't take any money; she only wanted to help. I think she really also just wanted to get out of her house. We became a trio, me, Aunt Katherine, and Mrs. Grummond. I did all the work, but we had a good time.

I loved my Aunt Katherine, and I knew she loved me, but I couldn't understand my Uncle Cameron. Why was he so indifferent toward me? Though I never saw him raise so much as finger toward my Aunt Katherine I knew she was afraid of him.

When I think about things now, I realize Aunt Katherine had no self-confidence. She was Uncle Cameron's doormat. When I think back on Mrs. Grummond, I believe that was her greatest single gift to me. She never doubted me. She always gave me the opportunity to make my own mistakes, and when I did, she didn't berate or belittle me. Now, as an adult I've become a firm believer confidence is the single greatest carrier of success. Better men fail where lesser men succeed because of self-confidence. That was Mrs. Grummond's greatest gift to me.

My tenth grade turned out to be my greatest and my worst year. By November I was hopelessly in love with Darla. She was the most tender and most beautiful girl in the world. Whenever she saw me, she smiled even though she went to a school where I believed snobbery was a part of their curriculum. Some of the girls who were her friends never deigned to speak to me, not even once, some were downright mean. Amber was like that too, but in different ways. I could never figure Amber out, but I loved her sister with every breath I took, every beat of my heart.

Two very curious things happened that November. I was sixteen. Amber was sixteen too, just a few weeks ahead of me. Brandon was a senior, he was eighteen, had a car, money, and a really swelled head. Darla was one year behind me, but two years younger.

One of the girls, I'm sure it was Darla, insisted I have Thanksgiving dinner with her family. There we were, Mrs. Grummond, Darla, Amber, and their mother and father all gathered around the table. My family was having our dinner later. I was sure they wouldn't miss me anyway. It was kind of an awkward affair. Mr. Wexler spoke rarely, and then it was only to ask someone to pass some plate of food. He never looked at me once. I didn't exist.

The seating was odd. Amber and her mother sat across from me. Mr. Wexler sat at one end of the table and Mrs. Grummond at the other end. Me, I sat on one side. Darla sat beside me. About halfway through the meal Darla started touching me. She was to my left. She was left -handed, and somehow her right hand found its way under the table. It was an agonizing time. She kept touching the inside of my thigh. She kept rubbing up and down outside my trousers. I had on a pair of new trousers and new underpants. The underpants were white boxers, and the trousers were a light and thin khaki. She kept touching me in such a way that she was almost touching my privates. I had a hard on, and she was driving me crazy. I was afraid I was going to have an accident, and with the pants I was wearing I'd be humiliated. They'd never invite me back. I think everyone noticed how uncomfortable I was. Amber sat across from us and used her eyes to shoot horrible daggers at her sister. Once Mrs. Grummond asked me if I was feeling all right. I said yes, but I felt my face turn red. Darla squeezed my thigh.

They had something of a tradition at the Wexler's. They'd eat, have coffee, then take a short break in their living room before having dessert. When we all got up, I was still sticking out. Darla was smiling. I was blushing. Amber looked furious. Nobody else acted like they noticed anything, but I knew they did. They had to!

When we moved to the living room I headed for a large sofa. Darla was headed for it too, but Amber got between us; arms crossed in front of her chest she sat down beside me. Mrs. Grummond smiled. Darla scowled. Mr. Wexler started asking me questions.

"Mm," he grunted, "You go to public school."

"Yes sir. Lake Pamunkey," I said.

"Been helping Mrs. Grummond," he said.

"Yes sir, all summer," I said."

He said, "Amber says you're a tenth grader, failed once."

I said, "Yes and no. I'm a tenth grader, but I was held back. I never failed."

He rolled his eyes, "Same thing." Then he said, "Think you'll graduate?"

"I hope so," I said.

"Play many sports," he asked?

"No sir," I said. "Can't run very well. Bad leg. And I get headaches sometimes."

"Migraines," he conjectured.

"Concussion I think the doctors said," I said.

He took a sip of coffee and spoke to Mrs. Grummond, "How're your dizzy spells?"

She answered, "I'm careful." Then she smiled at me, "But I have Timmy and his Aunt Katherine now."