The Switch

This story contains allusions to cancer and death.

 “It’s nice to meet you, Colin,” said Amy.

  “I’m sorry I’m not available right now. Please leave a message,” said Colin.

  Amy nodded and smoothed down the scrubs encasing her legs. The books, of course, had explained how to handle this situation, but it was always helpful to have the assistance of the family too. They knew things. She turned and looked at the figure in the recliner.

  “He’s nervous,” drawled Hank in a rich Southern baritone. “Give him a few minutes to warm up.”

  Hank was seventy-six and was posed like his arms were glued to the leather rocker. His chin barely protruded from the leathery folds of his neck. He directed most of his words at the wall behind Amy. “Have a hard time finding the place?”

  Amy shook her head and brushed a blonde strand back. “Not at all. Even in the dark, the GPS got me here perfectly.” She sat at precise angles and glanced back and forth between the two men.

  Colin hopped off his beanbag chair with surprising agility for his three hundred pounds. He looked at the light switches by the front door, and turned on the one to the left. Then off. Then on again. He waited. Then off. “Captain, the ship has sailed!” he proclaimed to no one. Then he sat down again and put his round chin into his chest, becoming so still that he looked like a stuffed bear.

  “I could never use that there GPS,” Hank went on as though nothing had happened. “All that talking it does, and it don’t tell me where to turn into. I can’t look at it and drive at the same time.” He looked Amy up and down with platonic curiosity, then returned his gaze to the wall. “A’course you’re young. You could do it, no problem.”

  Amy smiled. “Well, I hope I can do as well as my predecessor.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Neva was one of a kind, let me tell ya. Shame what happened.”

  “Neva is a hundred percent!” shouted Colin. He pulled his hoodie over his head and began blowing raspberries.

  “It’s an easy gig, really,” said Hank. “You gotta stay up, of course. Gotta get him to bed. I sleep in the basement, so I won’t bother ya. In fact I’m gonna retire pretty soon. I’m tuckered out.”

  Amy nodded. “I received the instructions from Carol.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “My contact at the agency. She worked with Neva too, I believe.”

  “Oh, oh, Carol. Yep. Sorry. Memory don’t work like it used to. You might have to remind me about things now and again.”

  “Got it. No worries. Yes, it doesn’t seem to be difficult at all. At the agency they rave about Colin and all the progress he’s made.”

  Hank performed a humble half-shrug and tilted his head slightly. “Been working on that boy since he was three and we found out. His mother did most of it, God rest her soul. I’m just too tired now, you know? Can’t keep up with all of it.”

  “I want a harp too!” exclaimed Colin. “But you can’t tell me where you purchased it, ya hear? I won’t stand for it.” He got up and paced to the same switch, flipped it on and began knocking on the door. He then turned the switch off, padded across the dirty blue carpet, and sat down again.

  Amy pretended not to notice the repetitive behavior. “Thank you for telling me that, Colin,” she said. “I like to hear you tell me things.”

  Colin looked down and away, studying a piece of conspicuous dirt on the floor.

  Hanks face remained impassive. “Yep, hard to get stuff out of him sometimes. Neva used to tease him and tell him that if he did somethin’ she wanted him to do, he would get a candy, or some type of snack. The boy loves to eat.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Amy. “Colin, I’m sure you still love snacks.”

  “This meatloaf is disgusting! Get out of my kitchen.”

  Hank chuckled. “He’s got a great memory. Loves watching them cookin’ shows, and as you can see he can quote them too! Get a mean chef in there to cuss people out, show some food gettin’ the bejesus cooked out of it, and you’ve lost him. He stares at it for hours.”

  Amy cleared her throat. “Did Neva cook?”

  “Just for him. I don’t eat much. I don’t move much, neither. Yeah she cooked for him though. Even after she got sick, she still tried to make him stuff he likes.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I expect the usual things. Chicken nuggets, hot dogs. Spaghetti.” He smiled fondly. “She used to pull out a can of sauce, some ground beef, and other fixin’s, and say somethin’ silly like, ‘I’m gonna make you the bestest ‘basgetti’ you ever seen!’ He would laugh and his hands would get movin’ more than usual.”

  “Neva is a hundred percent!” interjected Colin again.

  “She usually made dinner just for him, is what I’m sayin’,” said Hank. “Let’s face it, between the two of us, we ain’t much on cookin’. He gets himself cereal or fruit during the day. At least we get the woman’s touch one meal a day.”

  Amy did not tell Hank that she was, in fact, a terrible cook. “Well, I will do my best. It sounds like Neva will be a tough act to follow.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You and him, you’ll have your thing. I’m sure of it.”

  Colin got up and repeated his switch ritual, this time lingering for several minutes before turning it off and returning to his seat. Amy and Hank did not speak during this time. It seemed disrespectful.

  Finally, Amy decided to venture into the subject Hank hadn’t really broached. “So, Neva came to work even after she - um, the diagnosis?”

  “Yeah, she did. Couldn’t believe it. She was a beautiful girl. Beautiful. Even bald-headed, she could get the fellers to look at her purty face. I remember the day she told us. Twenty-two years old. Can you believe it.”

  “How tragic.”

  “It was,” said Hank. “Poor ol’ Colin, he didn’t understand. Shoot, he still don’t. She tried explainin’ but he’d still get upset if she couldn’t come some nights. They was two peas in a pod. I don’t believe in all that psychic stuff, but if I did, I could swear they had ESP with each other. It was wild. I could be dealin’ rough with him all day, and she would come in, and he would just calm right down. She didn’t touch him, now. You ain’t supposed to grab ‘em - I guess you know that, bein’ a nurse and all. She could just say stuff to him, or look at him, and he would wring them hands and laugh, or run upstairs and come down with his math notebook.”

  “Ah yes. I’ve heard about this notebook.”

  “Hearing is one thing. Seeing is somethin’ else. This boy, he’s a genius. Does math problems on that paper just for fun. I look and I don’t even know what I’m lookin’ at. His teachers couldn’t get him to do nothin’ in special ed except math. He found that trig book and just figured it out.” For the first time, real pride could be heard in the elderly man’s voice. 

  “Pick me up from school tomorrow, Papa,” said Colin.

  “Amazing,” offered Amy. 

  “See, here’s the thing.” Hank paused and reshuffled in his chair with difficulty and much grunting. The spectacle called to mind a warthog wallowing in mud. “Here’s the thing,” he repeated, rasping a little now. “People think these folks with autism is dumb, but they ain’t. They just don’t got no clue how to say what’s in their head. It sounds like gibberish to us, but to them - it’s a code. It all means something. You learn his language, you get in his head - then you’ll get to his heart.”

  “That’s how Neva got through to him, then?”

  “Good Lord, yes. Ok, here’s an example. They like routine, right? Well, Neva and Colin had their routine. Ever’ night, the same. She would put her hand out, and he would take it, and she would tell him about her day. He would have his notebook ready, and he would show her his, you know, equations or somethin’. Then she would make dinner, and she would tell him a story. It was usually about monster trucks or food. He would listen and laugh his head off, even when it wasn’t funny. Then she would get him through his shower and put him to bed. In the morning, they had this one last ritual. He would make sure the alarm clock was set early enough, then he would get up, look out the bedroom window, and wave at her. She had to stop at the corner of the sidewalk, too, right out front where the mums are. We called it the mum corner.” Hank smiled, drunk with memory. “She would stand there and say, ‘I’m at the mum corner, Colin!’ It was fun for him, I s’pose.” He coughed with a deeper rasp, then added, “So whatever routine you set up, keep it. They love it. See here, now.”

  Colin once again got up and performed his ritual on the switch. Amy took note of how effortless it seemed, like the routine was truly inside him, natural. For Colin, the switch was as normal of a thing as brushing your teeth, or taking a shower.

  “Well, Mr. Duncan,” said Amy, “I’m looking forward to this. I understand this is a difficult thing for him, to change nurses like this. I have some of Neva’s notes the agency gave me. I’m still getting used to these folks, as well.”

  “Oh, you’re new to the agency? I don’t reckon I knew that.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I don’t want wood. I want gold!” said Colin.

  “But, I want to assure you both, I am well-qualified in disability services.”

  Hank lifted a finger dismissively. “I’m sure you are. I ain’t worried about it. So you never actually met Neva, then.”

  “Never had the privilege.”

  “Like I said, beautiful. Smart. Had that intuition. She would come some days, just lookin’ dog-tired. I mean, really piqued. She tried to wear wigs that matched her normal hair, so Colin wouldn’t get freaked out.”

  “Gotta plant grass this spring!” hollered Colin.

  “Top of her class. Health nut. Why is it always the health nuts that get sick, seems like? She would be pukin’ her guts out, then three minutes later makin’ that spaghetti. Could barely get to her car at the end of her shift, but she always looked for him.”

  “Always stop at the corner!” said Colin. 

  “Yeah, buddy, the mum corner. Anyways, what a loss. She got too sick to keep working. I remember how bad she sounded on the phone that last time. She sounded so small. Colin kept sayin’ somethin’ about ‘basgetti’ and she tried to tell him how to make it, but he just ended up throwing stuff around the kitchen and ate some cereal. I will never forget when they told us she was gone. It wasn’t real.” A tremor had invaded Hank’s voice. “I am secure, though - I mean, I don’t know you and what you believe, but that girl loved God too. If anyone was right with the Lord, it was her. Had never been kissed or had a boyfriend, had always lived with her parents till recently. Just cared about folks. God is love, and that girl - well, her face shone like the Lord had touched it.”

  A thicker silence than before fell upon the trio. Colin got up again, slower this time, and made his way once more to the switch. He turned it on, but didn’t turn it off as before. He just stared. It was a laser of a stare, focused at a point in front of him, or perhaps a point in time. Who could dare question him about it?

  Amy got up and began to edge closer to the quiet, large man who had his back to her. A code. His words were code. Could she decipher his language? What had he been telling her already? Could she ever reach him? 

  He turned and noticed her standing close. “Amy is eighty percent,” he said, without looking directly at her. “Neva is a hundred percent.”

  Ah, of course, Amy thought. Math. Of course you would think in percentages. I think I know what that meant. Yes, dear man. I will never be as good a trainer-caretaker as Neva was. But there’s hope. At least you gave me eighty percent.

  Absent and sad, Amy said aloud to the room, “Twenty-two and never been kissed. I have a boyfriend who loves me unconditionally. She never even got to know love like that. How sad.”

  And then she saw.  

  Outside, a spotlight shined. It had a narrow beam of light, more narrow than usual. It shone on the corner of the sidewalk - a corner with mums. She saw remnants of roses and orchids once placed carefully on the concrete, now just forgotten debris. It was as though she was looking at a carefully prepared stage play, with the curtain up and the music playing, but the star had not appeared. Amy looked at Colin, who was standing by the switch he had turned on, the switch that activated the spotlight. He was looking at the corner, waiting for the star to be there. 

  Behind her, an elderly voice rose. “Oh,” said Hank, “I think she knew.”