The Boy Who Couldn't Read Emotions

“Owe, Mum! It hurts, it hurts!” The little boy burst into tears. His mother crouched and hugged him tenderly.

For the third time in ten minutes, 5-year-old Edwin held up his hands to his mother, and she shook her head in dismay.

“How many times must I tell you to leave the cacti alone.” She commenced pulling the small spines out of his hands. They were with friends at the Botanical Gardens, viewing the cacti and succulent display.

This boy had a kamikaze streak. He would obsessively do things repeatedly and not relate his pain to his own impulsive actions. He took a long time to learn that touching the elements in a heater and touching the hot plate on a stove rendered him burnt. His mother became a nervous wreck trying to keep him safe from harm.

He once stepped over the barrier on the edge of a trail up in the hills. He teetered on the cliff’s edge while his entire family stood in shock, wondering if a sudden scream from one of them could lead to a fall.

“Come back over, please, Edwin. The sign says not to step over the fence,” said his mother as calmly as she could.

Edwin’s shoes skidded in the gravel, but he stepped back over, oblivious to their panic. His mother hugged him. “What a fright you gave us. You could have fallen.”

Edwin shrugged, “Why were you frightened? I wasn’t going to jump.” He couldn't see things from other's points of view. He also didn’t feel fear in dangerous situations.

Like the day he ran away from home to work at the Railway Station. This meant a long trek. He had never walked there before. Only been a passenger in a car. Later, he claimed he wouldn’t have gotten lost or gotten into a stranger’s car. And as for getting squashed under a train, he knew how to get off the tracks.

The lady who worked in the newspaper and confectionary kiosk stood in shock as she watched the carriages being shunted into position on the tracks. Beyond them, she could see a young boy going in and out of the stationary carriages amongst all the filth and bustle on the tracks. “What is he doing?”

He had a rag in his hand, and he seemed to be cleaning the insides of the windows. He stepped out to find another carriage. She wanted to rush onto the platform and call him over, but he may have walked across the tracks in front of the shunting carriages. Gingerly, she climbed down and made her way over to him.

“Oi. What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m cleaning the carriages. I work here.”

“It’s just not safe. You come away, right now, young man.” She grabbed his hand and tried to lead him away. He resisted . . .

“I thought you may want an ice cream,” she offered.

That sounded good enough for him. He trotted obediently beside her. He had dirty hands and a dirty face. She cleaned him up in the restroom, and he followed her into the kiosk.

“Here we go,” she said, presenting him with the most enormous ice cream.

And so passed the afternoon. Each time he wanted to continue his work, she would ply him with sweets and chocolate to make him stay.

At the end of the day, she explained that it was time to go home. He didn’t seem to know where he lived, or he wanted to keep it from her.

“I don’t want to go home,” he said. “I want you to take me for a ride on a train.”

The kind lady paused, though her face showed determination. “I know. How about you come with me. I’ll take you to a kind man who will look after you. I need to go home now, but I can get you tomorrow and bring you back to have a ride on the train. So, let’s go for a drive in my car.”

“I’m not allowed to go in stranger’s cars,” Edwin said.

The lady laughed. “How can we be strangers? I’ve given you ice cream and lollies. I’ve promised to take you for a train ride.”

It seemed logical to Edwin, so he allowed himself to be guided to the car park and into her car without a scene.

She took him to the police station. Edwin wasn’t sure about being handed over to a policeman. She stooped to whisper, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to take you on your train ride.” Edwin trotted meekly up the stairs, holding onto the policeman’s hand.

***

By lunchtime, his mother had exhausted all possibilities. Desperate, she called the police and explained that her five-year-old son Edwin had gone missing. He had wandered from home with no jacket, and she’d tried all his friends and everywhere else he may likely be, to no avail. An announcement went out over the radio about a missing boy.

Once the policeman had entered the station, Edwin started exploring with the speed and ferocity of a tornado. They decided to pick up his mother and bring her to identify him.

What a relief to be reunited with him. The policeman related that a lady had dropped him off. Still, they weren’t entirely sure what he had been doing between leaving home and being dropped off to them, except he had been at the Railway Station.

“Why am I not surprised. It is a long walk but he is potty about trains.”

Then the war began. Edwin created such mayhem because he didn’t want to get into their car. He wanted to stay at the Police Station. His Mum explained that they hadn’t disagreed or fought. Their home was a perfectly safe place. The problem was likely to be something he’d eaten. Sweets and ice cream usually had this alarming effect.

Once home, he had to be dragged out of the car, kicking and screaming. When his mother opened the door of their home, he tore off to his room, crying and calling her names.

“I feel very sorry for you,” said the policeman, “Please let me write down the name of a child psychologist. I believe your boy needs help.”

She humbly accepted the card with the details written down.

Afterward, she ventured into Edwin’s room. He lay on the floor screaming, kicking, and rolling around. A typical tantrum. At that stage, she knew there must be a reason for his acute frustration, though she had no idea what.

After all the fear she had felt when she discovered he was nowhere to be found, this behavior seemed inexplicable. She sat on the floor and held him tight while crying with him.

“Take me back. Take me back,” Edwin wailed.

“When you calm down and tell me exactly what happened and why, I’ll understand what you are carrying on about.”

“I went to work at the station but the lady said I couldn’t. She made me stay with her and she gave me ice cream and lollies. She was very kind. She promised to come back tomorrow to take me for a train ride.”

“What a kind lady. Why didn’t she bring you home here so she could ask me if it’s alright?”

Edwin looked at his mother dumbfounded. “She doesn’t know where I live.”

“You should have told her. Anyway, she did the best thing and left you at the police station. I had already asked the police to help me find you.”

“I didn’t want to come home. I wanted to stay and wait for the lady to come and take me for a train ride.”

“Edwin, she knew that you couldn’t stay at the police station. She hoped that they would bring you back to me.”

“But what about my train ride?” He started crying, and she could see him winding himself up again.

“I hate to tell you this, Edwin, but she lied. She lied!”

At that, he started to hit and kick her.

“Whoa there, Edwin! Listen to me. I want to help. I want you to have your train ride.”

This pleased him, and he stopped to listen.

“If you are totally quiet about this all weekend, come Monday, I’ll take you back to the station to see the lady. I will look after the kiosk and she can take you for your train ride.”

“Would you really do that?”

“Yes, no school, just an exciting train ride. . . but I really think she lied.”

On Monday, she kept her promise and took Edwin to the station. The lady in the kiosk smiled and greeted them.

“Hello, thank you for looking after my son on Saturday, but I wonder how you knew he didn’t have diabetes.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“What I mean is that he has a very bad reaction to ice cream and sweet things. It makes him diabolically active. If, in fact, he had been diabetic, you may have killed him.”

“I am sorry about that, but it was the only way to keep him here and safe. He was wandering down on the train tracks. So dangerous.”

“It just didn’t help me over the weekend, but I’m here about something else.”

“What is it?”

“You promised my son a train ride and Edwin wanted me to bring him here so you can take him.”

The lady spluttered. “I-I-I only said it so he would go away with the policeman. I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t worry. I know you lied to my son. But could you please explain it to him. I’ve had a hell of a weekend because he believed you.”

The lady looked down into Edwin’s starry-eyed face. She frowned and hesitated. Edwin still looked up to her like an expectant cherub. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I told you a little white lie. I’m sorry you are disappointed, but I can’t take you on a train ride.”

Edwin started to cry. His Mum continued to transfer culpability onto the lady for her son’s sake. “You are breaking a promise you made to an innocent little boy. See how you have hurt him.”

“I really am sorry, dear. I would if I could. Maybe your mother can take you sometime.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I do. . . Say goodbye, Edwin. Time to go.”

She led the sobbing little boy away. “People don’t always tell the truth, Edwin. You sometimes think that your Mum is a meanie, but she never lies to you. Let this be a lesson to you.”

Edwin, hellbent on independently pursuing his interests, suffered the consequences of his folly as he grew older. In addition, he couldn't distinguish between fact and fiction.

Life revolved around the books he read.

At eight years old, he called a realtor because he had heard that a well-known, old brick building that had originally been a factory packaging baking ingredients for distribution and sale was on the market. He wanted to buy and turn it into Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory, as in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Because Willie Wonka said dreams can come true.

When he was twelve, inspired by the book Too Young the Hero, he tried repeatedly to join the Navy by lying about his age.

His last mistaken belief led to catastrophe. At fifteen, he read several books recommended by his English teacher about children from abusive families who ended up in state care and had happy endings. He wanted his happy ending and accused his mother and stepfather of mistreating him. He ended up in State care but never achieved his happy ending. No one could understand him, and he ended up being put in a home for naughty boys, locked up in solitary, and overmedicated because no one could handle him. That was a dark patch in his life.

Another thing that he had to be painstakingly taught is that people show their emotions by their body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice. Being blind to these things affected his family life, his friendships - or lack of - at school and elsewhere, and any attempts to discipline or guide him. An additional factor is how deceptive people are. It meant he stumbled over many relationship obstacles and roadblocks. After fighting with one of his sisters for too long, she would seek refuge in the toilet with the door locked. He’d pound on it for her to come out while she screamed at him to leave her alone. His mother told him his sister truly wanted to be left alone as she was now very angry with him. After the fun of initial fierce and friendly competition, along with arguing, he didn’t believe his sister or mother.

His inability to understand emotion from body language and facial expression has been the major factor preventing him from keeping his friends and understanding the complexities of human interaction. This is the worst handicap. If all you can do is get on with people well, the world can be your oyster. Some get by with charisma alone.

Later, he pursued singing and acting, where he displayed enormous talent. He explained it to his mother this way.

“My mind is like a file with millions of tapes. Once I see something or learn something I have it recorded on a tape and it is filed in my brain. I’ve always done this. When I hear something, or want to say something, I find the tape and replay it exactly like I saw or read it. Trouble is, you often tell me that I should keep it to myself. I’ve sometimes seen people move away from me when I’m talking, but I never understand why.”

“I know darling,” she said, “I’d often be amazed that you remembered so many facts and figures about things, or I’d remember that I’d heard what you said in a movie we’d seen.”

His excellent ability to characterize enabled him to masquerade as the Imam for the surviving Muslims of the Mosque shootings in Christchurch, New Zealand, in 2019. The Imam couldn’t do his public speech due to grief. Edwin had taught survival English to the refugees arriving in Christchurch and was known by the Muslim community members. He had been traumatized by being in the driveway of one of the Mosques when the shooting was in progress. He lost many friends that day, members he knew and cared about. He agreed, hired an appropriate costume from the Court Theatre wardrobe department, and gave the Imam’s speech with all the correct voice inflections and sympathy intact.

People who knew him and his family and saw the televised version rang them up and asked if Edwin had become a Muslim. It was near impossible for them to believe that Edwin was merely doing what he knew best, acting a part with panache.

Doctor Attwood, an Australian specialist in Asperger’s Syndrome – under the autistic continuum - said, “The good news is that after a difficult childhood, they can go on to be successful adults, best described as eccentrics.

“Our society has benefited from people with Asperger’s because they have a different way of thinking. Many famous scientists, artists and musicians have Asperger’s. Their childhood has been hell, but life has been enriched by them.”