Play Maker(17)

Mikey had seen every episode of Doctor Who at least six times – which, considering how long that show had been on the air, illustrated exactly how much time he spent in front of a TV or computer screen. Yet he never got enough. Never got tired of watching. And he didn’t watch them the way that other people watched them. He usually had to have several other things going on at once. Music blasting from his iPod, or YouTube videos on his phone were often playing while he was watching. Yet, he knew the show inside and out.

But his obsession with his favorite TV show wasn’t the only way his Down syndrome affected our lives. He took things very literally. If I promised something, he always remembered and he always held me to it. After all, until very recently, it had just been the two of us and those promises were a sacred vow that I had always put first. I looked at my phone. It was 4:05am. Dammit. I had screwed up.

“I’m sorry, buddy.” I went over and took his shoulders, trying to get him to stop pacing. “I know I’m late.”

“You promised, you promised.” He wasn’t looking at me, his head shaking back and forth.

“I know,” I took a deep breath. “Let’s get you in bed, ok? We can go over the list.”

“You promised! Too late,” he shook my hands off.

“Too late for the list?” I knelt in front of him. “But I really need help going to sleep tonight.”

The list was usually something I used to help Mikey go to sleep on nights like this when he was stressed. An alternative to counting sheep. We had been doing it since we were kids.

Mikey bit his lip and I could tell he was thinking about it. He was mad – and he had a right to be – but he also loved me. I looked at my brother, his sweet round face surrounded by blond hair in need of a trim. He towered over me now and if I looked at us together in a mirror, even though his face was softer and wider than mine, the resemblance was clear. We were a team.

“Please, Mikey?”

Finally he nodded and let me take his hand. I followed him to his room and while he climbed in bed, I lay down on the floor next to him.

“Ok, buddy, who is number one tonight?”

An hour later Mikey had finally fallen asleep and I came out of the bedroom to find my mom sitting at the kitchen table, her graying hair sticking up every which way. It looked like she had just woken up.

“I was late,” I told her.

She nodded as if she understood, which she did not. How could she? Mikey had been eight when she took off. She had left me, only sixteen, to deal with a younger brother who was operating at a completely different wavelength than most of the people around him.

“You forgot to take away his iPad,” I told her, the exhaustion of my day sinking in. “I told you he likes to hide it under his pillow.”

She closed her eyes, clearly frustrated. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I’m still getting the hang of this.”

I took a deep breath and tried to remind myself that we all were trying to get the hang of this new family dynamic. It had been six months since she had reappeared in our lives, wanting, begging to make amends. And I had been in a desperate place at that point – juggling two jobs, depending on neighbors to check in on Mikey while I worked – so I had allowed her back in, figuring I would let him decide if he wanted her back in our lives. And he had been thrilled to see her again. For someone who had a tendency to hold grudges over my broken curfew – something he might pout about for days – he seemed to forgive our mother for abandoning us twelve years ago pretty damn easily. I tried not to feel bitter about that. Some days I was successful, other days not so much.

I was the one having a harder time accepting her back into our lives. In all aspects. I was old enough to remember how much of a struggle it had been when she left. How I had to drop out of high school and get a job to support us. How I had to find special schools for Mikey, sometimes moving us to neighborhoods where he could be closer to the resources we needed. Even though I had managed to get my GED and even later a bachelor’s degree through night school, I still felt like I was ages behind most of my peers in a million ways. I didn’t have a car, I was bartending to pay rent and I had never had a relationship last longer than a couple of months. Most guys just didn’t understand that Mikey came first. And that he required a lot of attention and care. That he was my number one priority and if he needed me, I would drop everything to help him.

But I had also been struggling. And so when Mom showed up in our lives again, wanting to make amends, wanting to help, promising she had changed, I couldn’t say no to the extra income. And I wouldn’t keep her out of Mikey’s life if he wanted her there. That would be selfish.

So she had moved in. She had accepted the tiny guest bedroom I had been using for storage without complaint. Listened and took notes when I went over our daily schedule and the routines that kept Mikey’s life organized and stable. Rearranged her schedule to make sure she was always home when I wasn’t, which allowed me to work at the bar every weekend, which meant more tips and more money for all of us. She had been nothing but grateful for the opportunity to be a part of our lives again.

She was trying. It couldn’t have been easy trying to learn the routine I had been perfecting with Mikey for the last twenty years. Of course she was going to make mistakes. Of course things weren’t going to go smoothly right away.

I knew I needed to be patient. But right now I was exhausted and needed a shower and my bed. She needed to get to sleep too. Even though Mikey – if he stayed asleep – would probably sleep past noon, my mom had to be up for work at 8am. She worked as a housekeeper, which meant her days were busy, but her schedule flexible. When she first came back into our lives, I was surprised she had found a job, let alone one where she had cultivated a loyal group of clientele.