Sophie's Throughway (7 page)

They all looked on waiting for me to continue but I really didn't know where else to go. Janice looked at me with softness in her eyes. She was the only one that
understood the hell I went through at home and also the only one who dealt with Brendon on a day to day basis at school. She understood Aspergers whereas the rest of them clearly didn't and probably didn't really care.

“If I may pick up from there,” Karl interjected, saving me from my predicament. “We are very understanding of the schools policies and the necessity to have this school running smoothly and without severe incidents that will impact on other students and teachers. I work in the corporate field and am well versed on how structure and maintaining good relationships works. What you
fail
to take into any consideration, is Brendon's condition. You are sitting here with Brendon's behavioural plan in front of you, advising how he ‘should' be treated within a lesson. Have you all read that?” He looked pointedly at Mr. Fothergill and the shrew who remained visibly untouched. The others shuffled through their papers to locate it. “Allow me to remind you,” he continued, raising the plan to read. “You will note on this plan that it clearly states that Brendon will not look directly in your eyes as he will find this intimidating.
It states
that he will find it difficult to sit still and focus.
It states
that he will sometimes need to leave a lesson if highly anxious and be allowed to go straight to BASE.
It states
that he WILL, at times, make inappropriate remarks due to his lack of social skills.” He placed the plan back on the table. “This is a plan that goes out to every member of staff does it not?” He looked at Mr. Fothergill for a response.

“That's correct,” he replied.

“Then as head of this school and management leader I think you should insist that some of your staff
actually
read it. I would also suggest that you, yourself read it and make sure that as Head of this school you are fully converse in the field of autism, for the sake of all students on the spectrum, and that your staff are better trained in this area. There is no point to this piece of paper,” he pushed it forward on the table, “If nobody but the SEN team are reading it.”

“We are continually training our staff in this area and our SEN team work very hard with children who have behaviour issues,” Fothergill responded.

“Well it doesn't appear to be working very well.” He glanced over at Mrs. Johnstone as he used her words against her. “I have seen repeated remarks on these reports from teachers picking fault with usual autistic traits. Only quite recently, Mr. Fothergill, one of your senior members of staff had to be told to stop any interaction with Brendon as she seemed to find fun in deliberately goading him.”

Ah, Miss. Raven. What an evil woman. She had constantly picked on Brendon and deliberately got him into trouble by forcing him to react. We had insisted that the school had stopped her interacting with him in any way as he used to come back home crying about her nearly every night and refusing to go to school.

“I have been summoned to a meeting, without official written notice to myself or Sophie, where you have placed our son on governors report. If I am being brought to a meeting which is about my son's behaviour, then at the
very least, I expect a team of governors and teachers that have an understanding of Aspergers and PDA. Clearly that is not the case and therefore we are not at a level playing field. I will accept that the computer incident is punishable and unacceptable; I will accept that some of the comments from Brendon need addressing and working on, which is an ongoing trial for both the SEN team and Brendon's Mother. I will not, however, accept this as an official meeting. Please be sure to make that
very
apparent in the minutes.” He smiled and nodded over at the secretary. “I would suggest that we all stop now and re-schedule when you have got this properly organised and we can discuss the governor's sanctions then. Please be aware that I will not remain present at any future meetings if anyone on this team has not considered my sons condition appropriately. If I suspect any further discrimination against disability, I will have no hesitation in taking this to the next level.”

Karl stood up and gently pushed my shoulder to indicate it was time to leave. I raised myself from the chair and told Brendon to put his coat on. I felt very awkward but also relieved.

“Thank you everyone for your time and I look forward to the first official meeting soon.” He slowly and calmly adjusted his suit jacket and put on his overcoat before walking over to shake Mr. Fothergill's hand. The Head was ever the politician and calmly took Karl's hand as he stood but I couldn't help but notice the stewing resentment behind his eyes.

We walked out of the room and down the stairs in silence. When we got to the car park I let out the longest sigh of relief and Brendon turned to his Father and said, “Owned Dad, you totally owned them. That was joke.”

 

Chapter 10

Karl had certainly bought us some time if nothing else and his points at the meeting were well justified. I wanted to hug him but instead I squeezed his arm and said, “That was brilliant, thanks so much.”

“Not really, they need to get their act together. It's just Fothergill trying to strong arm Brendon out and without just cause he's going to fail.” He smiled and winked. “Look, there's no point me driving down south now, not on a Friday afternoon in rush hour, I'll just be stuck in traffic for hours. Do you want to go out for something to eat?”

“Err, yeah, sure…Brendon?” I looked to see if he might want to join us. Brendon didn't really do family social outings, not without causing a ruckus and after the meeting I didn't think he'd be in a sociable mood.

“Nah, I'm good,” he shrugged, “I've got to go out anyway, I'm going to Luke's house.”

“OK, well don't be late. Enjoy yourself.” I gave him a hug and was glad that he seemed so calm and relaxed. “We'll go through all the meeting points on Sunday.”

The school always seemed to hold big meetings or dish out hideous punishments on a Friday night. Just in time
for the weekend, they'd send your kid home wound like a Duracell bunny and make your weekend a complete disaster. I was convinced that they did this on purpose as a get back.

I dropped Brendon at Luke's house and drove home to fetch Bryony. Karl was already outside in his car making phone calls to work on his mobile. I indicated that I'd be five minutes with a show of fingers and went inside. It was a painful reminder to see his car on the drive. Just something so simple brought forth a rush of emotions that I seemed to have buried somewhere deep within my soul.

I had already texted Bryony to get ready before I left
knowing
that she'd want to take forever to get dressed in case she was ‘
seen'
by some fit lad from school. Miraculously, she was already donned in her disco pants and thrift shop 70's shirt when I walked through the door.

“Don't you feel weird going out with Dad?”

“My whole life is weird Bry. I'd be concerned if something normal actually happened.” I rushed upstairs to freshen up and change my skirt to Jeans.

We made our way in Karl's beast of a car to the Baltimore Diner on the edge of the canal. We discussed the meeting in parts and also Brendon's behaviour at home as we devoured insanely large onion rings and burgers drenched in smokey BBQ sauce. The conversation was difficult and over polite and I felt like we were skirting around the houses, avoiding the real issues we had once lived together. Bryony was a welcome distraction and we turned to focus on her and the dramas of life as a teenage
girl as we munched our way through our American style cheesecake.

On the way back home Bryony asked if she could have a sleepover at one of her friends and Karl dropped her off before we arrived back home. There was an awkwardness between us when she'd left the car that was impossible to shift so we masked it with trivial, unnecessary chat. I'd been with this man for years and now I couldn't even talk to him normally. As soon as we pulled up on the drive, Brendon came running out of the house and opened the passenger door.

“I've made you both some cake!” he exclaimed, “come on, come and eat it, quick!”

I was so full up after the meal the last thing I wanted was more cake. However, the fact that he'd made something and was so proud meant I was going to eat it and wax lyrical about it regardless.

“You'll have to come in and eat some or he'll be upset…” I looked across at Karl whose engine was still running, ready to leave.

He turned off the ignition without making eye contact and we made our way into the house.

“I thought you were at Luke's? And since when do you make cake?” I laughed as Brendon was clumsily cutting sections of some brown stodge and putting it on delicate, floral plates.

“Yeah, that's what me and Luke were doing at his house, making cakes
Mommy,”
he said in his put on American accent. “And they taste just like buttermilk
biscuits,” he drawled on in some southern, hillbilly fashion. “Now go and sit down and I'll bring them through.” He was remarkably chipper, I noted.

Karl and I made our way to the lounge and sat down on the sofa awaiting our prize. Karl didn't remove his coat. I knew he'd want to take off as soon as he'd finished.

Brendon came through, proudly carrying two plates with a chocolate slab of cake covered in single cream.

“Eat your heart out Gordon Ramsey!” I said, thinking how sweet and kind he could be. He sat down on the arm of the sofa and waited eagerly for us to start eating it in his usual controlling manner. Karl spooned some into his mouth first and pulled an interesting face. I immediately went to taste mine so I could say how marvellous it was but…it wasn't. It tasted kind of odd.

“Mmmm, it's nice darling,” I lied. “What is it exactly?…it has an unusual flavour.” I carried on eating it and tried to swallow quickly without chewing too long so I could get it over with. Karl was doing the same and giving me that ‘WTF?' look.

“Exactly what is this Brendon, it has a very weird taste?” I was slightly concerned because you couldn't fully trust the hygiene of teenage boys. You never knew what they might have been playing with before they went into celebrity chef mode.

“Did you both wash your hands before you made this?” I stopped mid spoonful as I stared at him. Karl had already finished his and put his plate on the coffee table.

“YES! OH.MY.GOD. Mum, just
eat
it. You're such a control freak!”

I finished it off and decided to make a cup of tea to wash the peculiar taste away and hope to God I wasn't about to get food poisoning.

“I'll make you a drink,” said Brendon uncharacteristically. “You two just sit down and get ready to kiss the sky.”

“What's going on Brendon?” I asked sternly, not liking his weird behaviour.

“That cake you've both just eaten is a hash brownie.” He roared with laughter. “There's some serious skunk in there and you are
so
going to be able to chill out and relax for once!”

I looked at Karl and Karl looked at me. We then looked at Brendon with utter disbelief.

“Come again?” I said, “hash brownie? A HASH BROWNIE? Are you
GODDAM
KIDDING ME?! PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS A JOKE AND YOU HAVEN'T JUST DRUGGED YOUR PARENTS…”

“Don't worry, it'll take about half an hour to work and you'll feel great. Chill out man! You both need to,” Brendon stated, with no concern or remorse at what he'd just done.

“Brendon…I CANNOT believe you have done this to me…I really can't…what the hell?” I gushed, trying to think. “Since when have you been taking Marijuana? Seriously…You know, YOU, the child who wouldn't even entertain Ritalin because it masks your real personality. The one who is always telling me that alcohol is bad, and
fatty foods and you should train hard and look after your body. Now you think this is OK? So now you do drugs?”

“And,” Karl interjected, “I am supposed to be driving home – did that cross your mind? Now I can't go anywhere. You're an idiot.” The darkness filling his eyes brought back the memories of the violent outbursts between them and I froze for a moment, waiting for the explosion.

“CALM DOWN. Sheesh.” Brendon threw his arms in the air, trying to diffuse the situation. “And this is the problem: the war on drugs. Actually Mother I only have it now and then, which is a lot less than most people. All teenagers at school are doing it. It doesn't hurt you, it's not addictive, and no one has ever died from it. Not like they do with alcohol or tobacco which IS legal. DUH. You don't get aggressive, like with alcohol, you just get happy and chilled. How is that bad? Anyway, I knew you'd react like this so I've sent some links to your e mail from YouTube, Harvard scientists, Reddit, and ‘The Amazing Atheist'. Shit, that dude is awesome!”

This is what he did to me. Always a step ahead of the game and bombarding me with information to support his crazy actions so I couldn't argue from the seat of my pants.

“IT IS STILL AN ILLEGAL DRUG. HELLO!” I shouted, “AND I DO NOT WANT YOU TAKING IT. END OF. AND I CERTAINLY DON'T WANT YOU DRUGGING ME FOR YOUR OWN ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. YOU'RE THE CONTROL FREAK!”

“It's legal in Colorado and California,” he justified.

“This is ENGLAND not Hollywood!”

“Well, it should be legal. So should prostitution, cocaine…anything. It's peoples free choice. Taking away freedom is bad. There'd be a lot more money if the government legalised weed and put tax on it. There'd be more jobs, more money for health centres, less money spent on policing petty drug crimes. Pound for pound, marijuana costs more than gold, so think about it. Read all the information and understand the facts before you start going psycho.”