A Home of Iron and Glass, Part 1

October 20, 2011 § 1 Comment

OH MY GOD THAT FELT LIKE PASSING A KIDNEY STONE.

But it’s here, like I said it would be. You’ll have to forgive the fact it sort of ends abruptly. I hammered out a thousand and that was all I could do tonight. Too tired by half, but I got it out.

And in this case, I sort of like the title. A nb to anyone with experience or relatives with Down Syndrome: I’m sort of new at this. So while I do have a close relative who has Down’s, I’m going off of research here. I don’t have much experience with people with severe cases of Down’s. If you see me doing something horribly wrong or strange, please let me know. Like I said, this is a really hard exercise for me, and my intent is always to be respectful. As they say on down-syndrome.org, people with Down’s are people first.

That said, have the first part of A Home of Iron and Glass. Yes, the title is basically all my other titles:  A thing of other thing and other other thing. That said, I sort of like this because it fits better with the story.

And again, mind the sudden gap at the end. It’ll get filled later! I promise!

 

I.

I want the purple one. I point at it.

That one. I want it.

“Hello sir, what would you like to order?”

I can’t hear her very well, but she has a look on her face I don’t like. It looks like she’s sad at me. Like I did something bad but she isn’t mad at me.

I point again.

She sighs loudly. “Look, just which one do you want?”

I’m getting mad. I told her twice now. I don’t want to get mad. I’m not supposed to get mad. But I’m getting mad. My ear hurts and I’m hungry and she won’t give me the happy burger. Why won’t she? I did what I normally do. Dave would know if Dave was here.

“Purple one.” I say so that she can hear. I put the money on the counter so she can see it. $7.42. It’s enough because Mom gave it to me for lunch this morning. She was going to see her special doctor and couldn’t make one for me. That made me happy, because I could have the happy burger. But now I’m getting mad and she won’t give me the happy burger. I want it.

She looks behind her at where I’m pointing, missing it. “I don’t know which one you want.” She shakes her head. “Dave? Can you come help me?”

I smile. I’m happy. My ear still hurts, but Dave is coming. Dave knows.

Dave comes from inside the kitchens, moving around the people like a duck in the water. He’s wearing black today. I like black. It’s the same colour as Dave’s hair. I like Dave. He likes me.

“Well, look who it is! My special friend!” He shouts loud. It hurts my ear, but I smile because I’m happy to see Dave. His hair is round like the sun, but it’s black, and his skin is dark like the sky at night or my ceiling when the light is off. “Hello, Johnny! Hello hello!”

Dave talks loud, but I can hear him. My ear was broken when I was young, and I can’t hear very well. Dave is loud and listens slowly. We talk well together.

“Hello Dave.” I say.

“Here for lunch, Mr. Johnny? You having a good day today my friend?”

“My, my, ear hurts. I saw Dr. Pokahanni.” It takes me a few seconds to speak. The restaurant is loud and my mouth moves slow. “She is going to give me my medicine again.”

Dave presses buttons on the computer and shakes his head. He smiles. I like Dave because he always smiles. Mom says that people should smile more and then they will feel better later. “Don’t smile when you’re happy, smile to make yourself happy!” Mom knows. She’s really smart and knows a lot of things. She says it’s because she’s old. I think it’s because she’s smart.

I nod. “I don’t like my medicine.” I don’t. It makes me feel sick and makes stuff come out of my ear. I feel better after I’m done, but Dr. Pokahanni got mad at me once when I didn’t take all the medicine. She is small, like me, but she got big when she got mad. She’s dark like Dave and comes from where curry comes from, but I was sad when she got mad at me. But she said I would get sick if I didn’t take it all. She yelled and told my mom. Mom got mad at her and she started yelling too, and I got upset. I started yelling too, and then we all stopped. I don’t like to yell.

Dave nods. Dave understands. “Yes, those doctors, my friend. I don’t like doctors, I knew I wouldn’t. Because my brother, he is a doctor, and he is no good! Always money, money, money! He tell me to get a new knee, and I tell him, “and will you work for me while I sit without a leg?” He says he wouldn’t! No good I said!” I laugh with Dave. I’m happy now. I almost forget my ear hurts.

The girl comes back and puts the tray in front of me. I laugh a little, because the happy burger is there. And my drink. I like the orange one because it tastes like oranges. I don’t like eating oranges, but Mom likes it when I do, so I eat them all. And the fries are there, but when she puts the tray down, they fall over. A few fries fall out onto the tray.

“Aggh!” I yell out. She looks startled and takes a step back. Dave laughs again as I pick the carton back up and, one by one, put the fries back into the carton. They have to stand up when the customer gets them. It’s on the pictures, and that’s how it has to be.

“Thank you, Dave. Thank you.” I take the tray and sit down. “Thank you!” I shout so he hears me.

“Thank you, my friend, Johnny! You have a good day!”

I sat down and took off my bag and my coat and my scarf. Then I stand up and get ketchup. I like ketchup, but I like how I get it out of the pump. The little cups are fun to take off the stack, and although I only need two, I take five. I like the pop they make out of the thing.

The ketchup pump is fun. I do it slow so I can catch the ketchup as it oozes out drop by drop.

“Mom, why is that man’s face squished?”

“Shh! Sit down Asher! That’s not nice!”

My ear made it hard to hear, but I sort of heard two people talking. A mom, but not Mom, were sitting at the table beside the ketchup. The boy was about young. I like children, they make me happy. I smile at him, but he looks at me. He looks confused. Like he has to go to the bathroom. The mom is looking out the window, away. She’s pretty.

I pour more ketchup.

“But mom, why isn’t it nice? His eyes are all pushed back and his face is flat. Is he ok Mom?”

“Yes! But be quiet! He has Down’s syndrome. We don’t talk about it! Now eat your food!”

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