March 12th
Dear Brother Jacob,
I’ll be eighteen in May, and I’m graduating high school not long after that. I think I’m going to be making some changes in my life. The changes aren’t going to be easy, but I can’t stay here much longer. I can’t be what my father wants me to be. He wants me to go into the ministry. Not just any ministry, but our church’s ministry. There’s a seminary in Atlanta that he wants me to go to. He keeps leaving brochures about it laying around so I’ll see them. I think I know too much to be happy with that.
I’ve saved up quite a bit of money, enough to get me started somewhere.
I don’t know much about living on my own, but I guess I’ll just have to learn.
I’ve been reading that book about Lyceum membership that you sent me. I think I’d like to join Lyceum someday. After I’ve turned eighteen and I’m on my own would be best, I think. Does everyone at Lyceum study foreign languages? I don’t know any. I wonder which one I’d like to learn first...
I noticed it says everyone does their share of the simple work at Lyceum.
How much say does a member have in what kind of work they do? The idea of doing my share of the boring stuff doesn’t bother me. I just wouldn’t want to be forced to be something I don’t want to be. I hope you understand.
Sincerely,
Shawn Mitchell
Dear Sarah,
That dance exhibition you guys did sounded like a rush job, but fun too!
Lyceum seems to be like that, always bending over backwards for everyone else. I guess that’s what service is all about.
Someday soon I’m going to go back to Lyceum, and eat fresh strawberries out of your garden! And I’m going to watch planetarium shows for hours, and look at all the paintings in the art gallery, and watch the scientists work in your labs, and read every book in the library, and go to every public worship service! And then I’ll eat in your dining room, and play with the animals in the petting zoo.
I bet you guys do a lot of stuff around Easter! I wish I could be there.
Your friend,
Shawn
March 30th
Dear Shawn,
I wish for you all the strength and wisdom you will need for the change you are considering, whenever it happens. I have not experienced seminary life, but I imagine it could be very rewarding if one were in tune with the sponsoring church, and very stifling if one were not. Friends of mine here who have been to seminaries confirm my guess.
In my opinion, learning to live on your own is a necessary step in every individual’s growth. But, of course, you must decide when and how that should happen in your life.
You are very welcome to apply to be a member of Lyceum if at some point that feels like the right thing to do. Your understanding of its nature is increasing all the time. I have a hunch that you would like it here, once you became free to sink your teeth into the some of the many projects Lyceum undertakes. Yes, everyone studies a foreign language. Quite a few members speak four or more fluently.
Every member has complete control over what kinds of work they do, and also the maturity to be willing to do what is needed. Does that seeming
contradiction make any sense? As you have noticed, we all share in the work that is, in my terminology, humbling.
You are right about waiting until you are eighteen to join. If you were younger, a parent would have to agree to it in writing, and I don’t think your situation allows for that.
Have a blessed Easter season!
Sincerely,
Brother Jacob
Dear Shawn,
I bet you’ll really have fun when you get here! Don’t forget about all the gardens there are to walk in, and the swimming pool, and the museum!
Easter is really busy here. I already have my schedule. I will be a dancing guide in the Palm Sunday service. We do a procession that goes all over the place, and we give donkey rides to the little kids. And I’m in a play on Thursday, and I read from the Torah (that’s the first five books of the Old Testament) on Friday. On Saturday there will be lots of people here, and I’m helping with the Children’s Programs, and then I’m a dancer on Easter. We do a sunrise service outside, and an indoor one at the regular time. Then most of the members sleep all day Monday!
I hope you’ll be here someday soon!
Your Friend,
Sarah
Chapter 24: A Springtime Full of Hope
Liberty gazed out one of the large front windows at a light spring rain. It was almost sad to her that the last patches of snow were beginning to melt.
But at the same time, it had been a long winter and she welcomed the coming of warmer weather and the new shades of green that were emerging everywhere.
“Here’s something for you. A magazine, I think,” Mr. Neils said from the couch where he was going through the mail.
With a dreamy, far-away look in her eyes, Liberty received the large blue envelope from the caretaker and sat down in a chair by the window.
She tore it open and extracted the contents. There it was, in her hands, just as she had requested in her last letter to Sister Nancy. After quickly reading the letter, Liberty clutched the copy of Lyceum Prospective Member’s Handbook and the folder full of application forms to her chest like a valuable treasure as she gazed out the window at the falling rain.
Three days later she sat in her dormer window reading a book and waiting for her father to arrive. Outside, mottled late afternoon sunshine warmed the grasses and buds that were appearing everywhere, and tiny patches of snow only lingered in the places of deepest shade. All three horses roamed the pasture, happily nibbling at the new shoots of grass. The long white car, a little muddy along the bottom edge, crunched through the gravel just about when it was expected.
Liberty smiled, but decided to finish the chapter she was reading and tidy up her room before going downstairs. She even decided to slip on a casual dress for the occasion. Although she had not yet experienced the biological version, she felt pregnant... with the knowledge that a major change was just about to be made in the course of her life.
When she finally went downstairs about an hour later, Mr. Neils was about to serve dinner and her father was sitting at the dining table, sipping tea and talking. She quietly sat down at her place setting and listened.
“...so those hearings will probably go through June, and then we should be able to get the bill out of committee. Votes are looking good, but I’ve had to do some arm twisting.”
“Excellent news!” Mr. Neils said, taking a covered roasting pan out of the oven.
“But now that Liberty is here, let’s talk about the project you two have been wrestling with. What kind of luck have you had?”
As Mr. Neils brought out the serving dishes brimming with baked ham, buttered mashed potatoes, a vegetable medley with hollandaise, and spiced apple sauce, he began to list, as best he could from memory, the many places he had written to, and the kinds of responses they had received. As father and daughter served themselves, he got his notes so that he could give a more complete accounting. Finally he sat down at his place and served himself while summarizing.
“So as you can see, there have been many negative responses for a variety of reasons. And there were a few fringe operations that had placed misleading ads, which I was able to spot as soon as their literature arrived. Liberty has grown immensely in patience and perseverance. The best outlook so far is the reform school in Texas that can evaluate her next August, with the girls’
school in New Hampshire a contingency plan for the following year.” He fell silent and began to eat.
“Whoa, I didn’t realize we’d come up with such a small list!” Senator Buchanan said.
Liberty gathered her courage, and then spoke without looking at the adults. “Except that there’s a place I’ve been writing to that’s invited us to come and visit, and they have an evaluation week in July.”
Both of the men looked at Liberty with disbelief and confusion for a long moment.
“This is news to me!” Mr. Neils said.
“They don’t take applications from third parties,” Liberty explained, “so I had to be the one to write to them. I’m sorry. At first I didn’t think it would become anything, and then I just got used to writing to them myself. But they do have the history sheet about me that you were sending to everyone.”
“Let me guess,” Mr. Neils said. “Those blue envelopes that kept arriving for you?”
Liberty grinned sheepishly. “They sent me detailed information, and I’ve read every page of it, most of it twice. It sounds really good... to me.” She looked at her father for a reaction.
He finished chewing a bite of food, wiped his mouth slowly with his napkin, and gave her a long look. “Well... I presume you still have everything they sent you?”
“Yep.”
“And copies of your letters to them?”
Liberty cringed. “Y...es. They’re on my computer.”
“Okay. Stack it all up and I’ll take a look at it tonight.”
“Thanks,
Daddy!”
During the remainder of the meal, Mr. Neils described the school in Texas and a couple of other remote possibilities. Then the discussion turned to springtime chores around the estate and other light topics.
Right after dinner, Liberty delivered the entire pile of books, journals, and letters to her father in his bedroom, where he was already at work at his huge roll-top desk. Her stomach was tied in knots as she headed for the barn to do her evening chores, where she busied herself for almost two hours, knowing that she would just pace in her bedroom otherwise.
When she finally returned to the house, she couldn’t stop herself from slipping into his bedroom and tiptoeing up to his desk. He was working his way through one of the books on Lyceum, his hand moving rapidly down blocks of text, his other hand turning the pages frequently.
“I didn’t know you could speed-read, Dad!”
“Hi, Honey. It would be hard to be a senator without that ability. Good skill to have for anyone interested in world-class institutions,” he said, flashing her a slight smile.
“I don’t want to interrupt, but... how does it look?”
“There’s a lot here to read, and I have some phone calls to make. I should get most of the reading done tonight. Give me until noon tomorrow, and we’ll go on a walk after lunch. I should have a handle on it by then.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said and started to head for the door.
“Liberty?” he called after her.
“Yes,
Dad?”
“I realize you’re probably anxious. I like what I see so far.”
“Thanks!”
The senator had Mr. Neils bring him a continental breakfast in his bedroom the following morning, and he finished reading everything that Liberty had given him about Lyceum by ten o’clock. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for several minutes.
As soon as he sat up, he grabbed a government directory from one of the cubby holes in his desk, found what he wanted, and started tapping numbers into the telephone.
“Good morning, this is Senator Michael Buchanan. I’d like to speak to Senator Giles... Yes, I’d like to speak directly to the senator... Thank you.”
While waiting, he organized the Lyceum material on his desk. “Bill! This is Michael Buchanan! How are things in Oregon?... Good to hear it! You still with me on that arms treaty?... Good, good, and you’ve got me in your pocket on that timber bill, you know, and all those I can drag along... Excellent!
What I’m calling about is I need some basic reference information about a place in your neck of the woods. It’s called Lyceum, and its address is in a little town... You’ve heard of it? Wonderful!... Well, that’s even better!
Fifteen or twenty times? Tell me about it, please.”
Senator Buchanan listened to his colleague for a couple of minutes. “Uh huh... Yes... Totally above board?... Uh huh... Nothing cult about it or anything?... Okay... Uh huh... Wow, it sounds almost too good to be true. No skeletons in the closet at all?”
At that moment Mr. Neils poked his head into the bedroom, and made a motion that indicated he would come back later, but the senator waved him on in, and punched the speaker button on the telephone so that he could also hear what the Oregon senator was saying.
“...only thing I can think of that even approaches being strange is that they’re very strict about confidentiality — for their own people, their benefactors and such, even for visitors. Reporters go out their to try to scrape up a story about some famous person who has something to do with the place.
They grab the nearest staff member, and can get any general question answered. But the only name they can ever get is Brother John or Sister Jane or whatever, and never a whisper about the person they’re trying to write about. Doesn’t seem to be any charismatic leadership that wants their name known, either.”
“How about the Board of Directors?” Senator Buchanan asked.
“Yeah. I’ve had it looked over. All legit and respectable.”
“Well, some of those policies sound pretty nice from my point of view.”
“That’s why I like getting out there fairly often. I know that if I don’t spread who I am, no one else will either. And they’ve got places you can go to get totally out of the public eye.”
“Well, thanks, Bill. If there’s nothing else you can think of, I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Their literature is totally up front. Have you got it?”
“Yes. My daughter wants to go out for a visit.”
“I see. She’ll love it! See you next week, Michael!”
“Yes, see you then. Bye!”
He pressed the reset button and looked at Mr. Neils. “Sounds good. Did you find out anything?”
“They do indeed have an office at the U.N., just as do many service organizations, such as the Red Cross. But there’s something else that I only learned because the person I called owed me a favor. It seems that the Lyceum staff there at the U.N. gets asked into the Security Council chambers fairly often, even during closed sessions, and no one can ever pry out of them what they were asked or what they said.”
“Interesting. Thanks, Harold.”
The caretaker left and the senator sat for a minute thinking. Then he grabbed a note pad and began jotting down thoughts as they came to him.
Father and daughter, wearing warm sweaters and windbreaks, walked side by side as they neared the top of the grassy hill that was just beginning to turn light green with its new spring growth. Both were in serious moods.
“This place is not your usual private school, like the ones you’re familiar with, I hope you realize...” he said.
“I know, Daddy.”
“So... tell me what about it attracts you.”
“Well... from everything I can tell, it would really challenge me to be grown up and do my best.”
“Uh
huh...”
“And remember that world-class feeling I was talking about? This place has it.”
“I can see that.” He walked in silence for a moment. “Part of being a member is being assigned productive work. At your age, I believe it was sixteen hours per week. Whatever you’re told to do. No back talk, no sneaking off. Can you handle that?”
She thought for a moment. “I think so. If I like the place. And if I don’t like it, I shouldn’t be there, I guess. I want to try.”
“I’ve already done some checking into it, and I’m going to do some more. I won’t let my daughter go to a Jonestown or a Rajneeshpuram, or anything else strange.”
“I appreciate that, Daddy.”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that they call each other Brother and Sister there.
Know why that is?”
“N...not
really.”
“The basic economic and social arrangement of the place, as far as the members are concerned, is most similar to that of a religious monastery.”
“Doesn’t seem like one when you look at the pictures, does it?”
“No... it doesn’t. And yet it is organized to provide its members with a relative contemplative, studious, service-oriented life. That doesn’t sound like you, Liberty.”
“I know.” She looked at the ground for awhile as they walked. “But you know how I love to read and learn new things. And look at how happy I’ve been out here, once I started taking care of the horses.” They walked in silence for another minute. “I don’t know exactly why this place feels right. I just know it does. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll go and be evaluated in Texas, I guess.”
They walked through a short patch of woods without speaking.
“So...” Senator Buchanan said, “assuming I don’t turn up any skeletons, see if you can coordinate the visit with my trip to Japan on July 10th. We could fly out on the 8th, spend the 9th there, and if I like what I see, I’ll go on to Tokyo alone.”
She stopped and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, thank you, Daddy!”
“Now understand, I’m putting you in charge of all the arrangements.”
She released him and just stood there smiling, glad some of the knots in her stomach were starting to untie themselves.
“Okay... “ he went on, “you want to earn some spending money? We’ve got some things around here that need doing...”
It was another ten days before Liberty was ready to seriously entertain the notion of picking up the telephone and calling Lyceum. The yard work she had agreed to do for her father kept her busy, but eventually she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer.
The orange and pink shades of evening light were beginning to fade from the Pennsylvania sky as Liberty closed the dishwasher and started its cycle.
She knew she was alone in the house. She walked into the living room and stared at the telephone. The knots in her stomach had retied themselves with a vengeance, and were threatening to make knots on top of the knots.
As the minutes passed, she began to realize that she wasn’t getting any closer to picking up the telephone and doing what she needed to do, so she dashed out the front door and headed for the barn.
The horses were waiting at the feed boxes as she pulled the right amount of hay off the bail and tossed it over the fence to each animal. The last one to get served grabbed the flake of alfalfa before it even left Liberty’s hand.
“Hungry, Penny? You always were a little short on table manners.”
She scooped cans of grain and added them to each horse’s feed box.
“Hi, Chelsea. I’ve sure got a big decision to make. To tell you the truth, I thought I’d made it. Then dad says yes and I turn into chicken shit.”
All three horses were concentrating on their feed as Liberty climbed up and straddled the fence. “Hi, Mandy. Can you imagine me in a place like Lyceum, where there’s all kinds of religious things going on? Less than a year ago everyone thought I was going to be a prostitute. Just call me Liberty Magdalene...”
She hopped down amongst the horses and stroked the tallest one with her hand. “Hi Penny. I’m smart. I could be almost anything I wanted. My dad’ll put me through any college I choose.” She leaned on the huge animal, putting her hands over its back as tears filled her eyes. “I just can’t figure out how to finish junior high...”
Liberty tossed and turned that night in bed before her mind finally carried her into a fitful dream. In her dream she skipped happily down a back alley, somewhere in a city, toward her friends who were all standing around waiting for her. As soon as she neared them, they all started laughing at her and pointing their fingers. “Liberty’s going to reform school! Liberty’s going to reform school!” they taunted.
She heard her own voice saying, “I’m am not! I’m going to live in a monastery!”
They were all around her now, even above and below, pointing their fingers and laughing even harder. “Liberty’s going to a monastery! Liberty’s going to a monastery!”
She woke thrashing, covered with sweat. As soon as she realized she was no longer dreaming, she relaxed and tossed the blanket off, lying there under her sheet, the feelings from the dream still resonating inside her. About a quarter hour later, she drifted back to sleep.
The partially ruined walls of an ancient stone monastery loomed all around, and nearby she could see a bubble-headed bleach blond secretary sitting at a big desk with phones and other junk all over it. Behind the secretary a line of hooded monks slowly shuffled along, as another monk cracked a whip.
The secretary was picking up and putting down phones madly. “Please hold... Hello?... No, we don’t want to buy any of that... Hello?... Liberty who? Never heard of you... Sister Nancy’s office is in the highest tower, and she only comes down on fifth Mondays to take calls. Please hold... No, we don’t do that... Hello?... Oh, you again. No she didn’t tell me anything, she’s a very busy person. You’ll have to make an appointment... Hello?... No, we don’t want any...”
Finally Liberty drifted into a deeper, dreamless sleep.
It was late the next morning when Liberty finally stumbled downstairs, still in her pajamas, to find Mr. Neils finished with breakfast and ready to go out into the garden.
“What time is it? I had a terrible night.”
“Ten
thirty.”
“Oh, shit, the horses!”
“I’ve fed them for you. I could hear you tossing and turning last night, and when I peeked in at seven this morning, you were still dead to the world.”
“Thanks,” she said, pouring some cereal into a bowl. At that moment, the phone rang, and Mr. Neils answered it in the kitchen.
“Senator
Buchanan’s
residence?...
Good morning, Senator!...” After
listening to the caller for a few moments, he lowered the handset and called toward the girl pouring milk on her cereal. “Liberty! He needs to know if he can put that flight to Portland on his calendar for July 8th!”
“Tell him I’m working up the courage! I’ll call today!” Or die trying.
The caretaker relayed her promise, chatted about a few other matters while Liberty downed her cereal, and then headed out into the garden.
Liberty carefully scraped the last specks of cereal from her bowl before going to the living room and again staring at the telephone.
“It’s now or never,” she said to herself while taking some deep breaths.
She dashed upstairs, and a moment later returned with one of the Lyceum books. She punched the number into the telephone and waited for someone to answer, her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest.
When Liberty made the call, it was early in the morning at Lyceum and few
visitors were yet to be seen in the huge Main Lobby. A young lady with sandy brown hair was sitting in the office, stapling some papers together, and occasionally glancing up to see who was in the Lobby and whether or not they looked lost. Every once in a while one of the computer terminals near her would chirp, and she would scan the security information it presented to check for anything that required her attention.
“Good morning, Heidi,” an older lady said, waving as she passed by. “I’ll have the Gift Shop and Gallery open in a jiffy.”
“Good morning, Sister Claudia!”
One of the lines on the communications console near her lit up and softly purred. She touched a button and spoke into her headset. “Good morning.
This is Sister Heidi at Lyceum. How may I be of service to you?”
As she listened to the caller, she typed a few words into the nearest computer, and a variety of information flashed onto the screen. “Oh, yes, Liberty! Sister Nancy said you might be calling to schedule a visit... Let me see if I can find her.” She pressed a few keys on another terminal, whose screen contained a detailed map of the campus. A symbol close to one edge of the screen began to flash. “Oh, you know, she’s down at the horse barn, and I bet I know why. We had a foal born last night. She’s probably down there grinning as if she were its mother... Yes, we have a number of horses here.
Do you ride?... That’s okay. Maybe you can learn if you’re here for awhile. I can do everything that’s necessary to schedule your visit if that’s okay with you... Yes, I’d be glad too!”
At that moment a man stepped up to the counter. Sister Heidi pressed a button on the console in front of her, and a few seconds later someone emerged from the door behind her and began to help the man.
Heidi typed on her keyboard as she listened. “Okay, July 8th, in the evening.” Schedules appeared on her screen. “That’s a fine time. I’m putting you on Sister Nancy’s calendar now... Your dad will be with you? Okay...
How will you be arriving?... Portland International. Give us a call as soon as you know your flight number so we can meet you... I’m reserving a room for you and your dad for the 8th and 9th... Just whatever clothes and personal items you’ll want... Well, that about takes care of it... Yes, Liberty, that’s all we need to do... Why, thank you, Liberty. It’s been very nice talking to you,
too, and I look forward to meeting you!... I’ll see you then. Bye!”
Sister Heidi finished entering information into her terminal about Liberty’s visit, and then stood to help a lady who had just appeared at the counter.
Liberty slowly set the telephone down, let out a breath, and smiled to herself. Her stomach felt relaxed for the first time in days. She suddenly felt a craving to go up to her room and work on the water color she had started about a week before. But first she wanted to help Mr. Neils in the garden, because he had fed the horses for her that morning, and she wanted to pay him back. And after that she would need to give the horses their mid-day care and eat lunch. And after lunch she wanted to call her father. The water color could wait a little longer. She had things that needed doing.
Chapter 25: Special Olympics, Special Feelings
April 17th
Dear Ashley,
Your first assignment will be coming to an end soon. From everything you have told me, it has been a very worthwhile experience for you. In case you have made friends there, which often happens when volunteering, you are welcome to keep in touch and continue to give them some of your time, but I hope you don’t spread yourself too thin.
Your next assignment is to help the residents of Pine Street Group Home to prepare for the Special Olympics. They are mentally handicapped teenagers and adults, and it will be on the four Saturdays in May at the group home, and the entire first weekend in June at the event in your state capital of Pierre. If you and your parents are comfortable with this plan, report to Kim Dalton, the House Manager, at eight in the morning on May 6th.
Thank you for the pictures of yourself at the gym and at the nursing home, and of your friends Julie and Jenny. The latest Lyceum Journal just came out, and I have enclosed a copy for you. It has a good article on the Western Regional Dance Competition that was held here in January, at which Tabitha and Karen helped a lot, and also a fantasy story told in verse with pictures from our theme gardens that Sister Rachael thinks you’ll love.
Let me know how the transition to your new assignment works out.
Sincerely,
Sister Heather
As April neared its end, Jenny visited the gym for the last time, and had seen Ashley’s routines on all four of the women’s apparatus. By the time she played Voice Four with Ashley listening, she had smoothed out all the spots that were giving her trouble. Ashley thought it was as beautiful as the other three parts, but also very different, containing long passages of low bass melodies, obviously designed to complement the other voices.
As the end of Ashley’s volunteer time at the Rapid City Convalescent Center approached, she easily made the decision to continue her friendship with Jenny, and to take her on walks whenever she could, which she figured would be about twice a week, maybe three times if she stopped by on Sundays.
Jenny was very glad, and promised to play whatever she could of the fifth and sixth voices of her song for Ashley.
Her last day of work at the nursing home was spent saying good-bye to all the elderly people she had come to know to one degree or another. She helped feed the ones who were most special to her, sat in the living room to talk to those who had grown used to her willing ear, and finished reading aloud three different stories that she had begun earlier for various residents.
It wasn’t until seven o’clock that she could finally grab her dinner tray and retreat to Jenny’s room. They talked until Ashley started yawning at about ten o’clock, and then she reluctantly made herself head for home, feeling somewhat happy and somewhat sad, but very glad she had gained the experience and made a new friend.
As soon as Ashley and her mother arrived at the Pine Street Group Home on the first Saturday in May, Ashley became aware that her nursing home experience was going to really help her out in that new situation. The first resident she saw was a man about thirty years old sitting in a wheelchair on the front porch.
“Hi. How ya doing? Hello...” he said as they approached.
“Good morning!” Ashley said.
“Hello!” her mother said.
“How are you? Hi. Hello. How ya doing?...”
Ashley and her mother quickly realized that the man had responded to their presence, but was unable to respond to their words. The front door opened even before they had gotten past the man who was still issuing standard greetings in a monotone, and a large lady stepped out.
“Hello, I’m Kim Dalton, the House Manager. You must be Ashley and Mrs.
Riddle?”
“Hello. How ya doing?” the man in the wheelchair repeated.
“That’s so nice of you to greet them, Frank!” Kim said. “Would you folks like to come in?”
They entered the house that was fairly large, but otherwise looked like a completely normal suburban home. In the kitchen a middle-aged lady was making sandwiches and a short little lady of about twenty-five was washing dishes.
“This is Betty, one of our residents,” Kim introduced, and the one washing dishes turned and flashed them a completely child-like grin. “And this is Sandy, one of our trainers.”
“Hello!” Sandy said. “Is this our volunteer?”
“Yes. This is Ashley. Include her in the lunch count, Sandy.”
“Hello, Ashley. Hope you like bologna...”
Ashley tried to avoid it, but once a week wouldn’t hurt her training diet too much, she quickly decided. “Um, sure!”
They stepped into the living room. On the couch a girl that Ashley guessed wasn’t yet twenty stared at them with round eyes and an open mouth.
“This is Lori, another resident,” Kim said. “Lori wants to practice for the softball throwing event.”
No facial expressions betrayed that Lori had understood what was said, but the strangers were obviously the focus of her attention.
“And this is Chad, who wants to try all the events,” Kim continued, gesturing toward a stuffed chair where a boy just a few years older than Ashley sat, his arms spread out on the arm rests and his feet up on a stool. He looked perfectly normal... and cute. “But I’ve explained to Chad that he can only get a trophy in one event. The other four residents are still in the back getting ready. Why don’t you step into my office and we can get any questions answered and the paperwork done.”
Ashley’s mother followed the house manager, but Ashley lingered for a few seconds, taking in the handsome boy spread out so nicely on the living room chair. As she was just about to turn, he smiled at her, and she instinctively smiled back. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal as she joined her mother in the office.
“I was just explaining to your mom that you won’t be asked to do any resident care, or lifting, or any other hard or dangerous work. The trainers are paid to do all that. Your job will be guidance and encouragement. Some of them tend to forget what they are doing in the middle of something, or to not understand what’s happening and get mad even though they just won the event, or something like that.”
“And you’ll tell Ashley what she needs to do?” her mother inquired.
“Oh, yes, especially at first. It will be helpful if she can do the events right along with the residents during practice. Do you have any physical limitations that might prevent you from running a leisurely hundred yard dash, doing a broad jump, throwing a softball...?”
Ashley smiled. Her inability to do the level nine Tsukahara vault at that point in time didn’t seem important. “No. I can do all those things.”
“Great. Several of my trainers can’t make that claim. Here’s the form you need to fill out and sign. We provide snacks and lunch, and we’ll be back by five. You can stay and eat dinner with us if you want.”
Ashley’s mother finished the paperwork, wished her adopted daughter well, and headed home. The residents were soon being loaded into a large van, at which time Ashley met the other residents and another trainer. They were at the Rapid City High gymnasium ten minutes later.
Ashley soon discovered, by watching the house manager, that the name of the game was hype, in every possible situation, to the maximum possible degree. Without the constant encouragement of the staff, the group home residents would quickly sink back into their own little worlds, not paying any attention to their trainers or the other residents. Ashley started by helping Frank practice for the wheelchair race.
“Come on Frank! Crank those wheels! Faster! Yes, that’s it, this way!”
Ashley hooped and hollered as Frank weaved his way down the basketball court. “Faster, Frank! Yes, that’s it, head for the finish line! You’re doing
great! Over here, here’s the finish line! Yes! Fantastic, Frank!”
“One minute twenty-five seconds,” Kim reported from her stop-watch.
“Good work, Frank! Good job, Ashley.”
Next they spread out an old foam landing mat that Ashley never would have trusted to protect her from the hard floor underneath. But she reminded herself that they were only doing broad jumps, not tumbling or vaulting. The house manager and trainers had to work closely with the residents to keep them from hurting themselves, and Ashley was assigned the measuring, and of course the hooping and hollering.
“Way to go, Donna! Twenty-six inches!”
Another resident ran.
“Fantastic, Betty! Thirty-nine inches! That’s two more inches than last time!”
Lori didn’t quite have the concept yet, in spite of all the trainers’ efforts.
“Good work, Lori! Eighteen inches!”
Chad was the only one who used much of the measuring tape, topping the group at one hundred and five inches. He flashed Ashley a seductive smile when she called out his measurement and their eyes met.
Soon they gathered at a large table to eat bologna sandwiches, milk, and cookies. Ashley made a promise to herself to have nothing but a salad for dinner. Three of the residents talked about the events, mostly for the purpose of comparing themselves to each other. Chad was quiet, as he always seemed to be. The other four had completely forgotten why they were there.
In the afternoon, Ashley was assigned to run after the softballs, which weren’t actually thrown very far, but tended to roll a long ways if not intercepted. One of the trainers was calling out distances based on the lines on the gym floor. Chad threw the ball directly toward Ashley, and she had to dodge to the side. He grinned at her as Kim gave him a lecture about being careful, to which he paid no attention.
The last practice of the day was for the foot races, and Ashley again was asked to run along with them to keep them ‘on task.’
“Come on, Mary, feel your legs pushing against the floor, aim for the finish line! No, don’t walk, run! That’s it! Here we go, faster and faster! We’re
almost there... just a little farther... Yes!”
“Forty-seven seconds,” Kim announced.
“Good job, Mary!” Ashley said.
“Next runner is Tom,” Kim called out. “Ready... set... go!”
“Come on, Tom! Tom, we can run now! This way, Tom! See the finish line down there? Let’s run toward it, Tom! No, Tom, don’t sit down! That’s it! Not that way, this way! Sheesh!” Ashley’s frustration was building, as the resident seemed to always be doing the opposite of what she asked. “Please, Tom, this way! Oh, no, not again. Please get up, Tom. Oh, you’re impossible.” Ashley was getting mad. “I don’t know what to do. Tom, won’t you even try to run toward the finish line? I give up!” She stomped over to a bench and sat down, chin in her hands.
The house manager came over and sat down beside her. “Tom can be very uncooperative, as you can see, but our job is to help all the residents to have a good time at practice and at the Special Olympics in Pierre.”
“But he obviously doesn’t even want to run the race,” she said in a pouting voice.
“He may not even be able to understand what a race is, but that doesn’t change our task.”
Sandy the trainer had strolled over to where they were sitting. “It makes sense that a champion athlete like Ashley would have some trouble understanding Tom’s attitude.”
“What do you mean?” Kim asked, looking at the trainer.
“You don’t follow gymnastics, do you, Kim?”
“I guess not...” she said, looking at Ashley.
“State champion gymnast, the only one Rapid City’s ever had.” She looked at Ashley and said, “My daughter is Georgie Zimmerman.”
“I know Georgie! I’ve been helping her with her side aerial!” Ashley said, brightening.
“Georgie actually refers to you as her coach.”
Ashley grinned with mixed pride and embarrassment.
“Well, well, I vaguely remember something about a state champion from here about a year ago,” Kim said. “So what is a champion athlete doing working with the handicapped?”
“It’s an assignment,” Ashley said. “I’m supposed to learn everything I can here before I’m accepted by a place where I can get elite training.”
“Oh, yes. The lady who arranged for the volunteer time gave me a pamphlet about some place. I don’t think I kept it, but it looked pretty fancy.”
“It is. I’ve been there.”
“Ashley...” Kim began thoughtfully, “...would you be willing to use your credentials to boost the Special Olympics?”
“I’m... not sure what you mean...”
“You know, let us put your name on our advertising, make a little welcome speech at the event, things like that?”
“Sure, I guess so. Does that mean I get another chance at helping Tom to run the race?”
Kim and Sandy both laughed. “Of course! And if you even get him pointed at the finish line, you’ll be doing more than we’ve ever achieved!”
Ashley felt better as they cleaned up the gym and loaded everyone back into the van. Chad flashed her another smile on the way back to the group home, and her heart leapt in response. But when she saw that dinner consisted of all the heavy and fattening foods she tried to avoid, she headed home to eat with her parents... knowing her mother always served a large green salad.
The following Saturday, Ashley felt much better about her ability to work with the handicapped group home residents. She was able to strike a balance between helping them to win, and helping them to just have fun. As she had discovered in the nursing home, getting to know the peculiarities of the individuals helped greatly to know how to work with them. When Tom was practicing an event, she found that it worked much better just to cheer for him no matter what he did. He demonstrated that he knew very well where the finish line was.
Chad grinned at her several times that day, and even took advantage of a crowed situation once to brush against her. He did it gently but firmly, and she found herself not wanting to move an inch, and afterwards wished the situation could have continued for longer than it did.
By the third Saturday, Ashley was beginning to think that her group home assignment was going to go smoothly, as the hardest situation so far had been learning to deal with Tom. It was mid-morning when she found reason to change her mind.
They had been working their way through the broad jump practices, and Ashley had been reading the measuring tape and shouting encouragements tailored to each resident’s needs. Suddenly little Betty collapsed to the floor and began moaning and jerking. No one seemed to do anything, so Ashley ran over to her.
“What’s wrong, Betty? Somebody tell me what’s the matter! What should I do?”
As Betty continued to twitch and moan, Kim the house manager ambled over and crouched nearby. “This is Betty’s way of getting attention. She learned it from a real epileptic in another group home. We’re trying to break her of the habit, but she still tries it now and then, especially when she sees other people getting the attention that she wants. You can sit with her while she finishes, if you want to, but be sure you don’t do anything to reward it.”
Ashley was confused. The convulsions looked so real! “Are you sure it’s fake?” Ashley asked with a concerned voice.
“Real epileptics thrash a lot harder and run the risk of hurting themselves.
I’ve got a pamphlet at the home that tells what to do if you’re ever with one.
Sit with her quietly, and after a few minutes she’ll stop to see if you’re watching.”
Kim went back to the broad jumps, and Ashley sat there, feeling totally unwilling to leave someone who seemed to be in so much pain. But just as Kim had said, Betty paused in her routine a few minutes later to see if Ashley was paying attention. As soon as she saw that Ashley was looking at her, she continued with redoubled effort.
But the next time Betty looked up, Ashley was gazing off across the room, as she wanted to see what the little handicapped lady’s response would be.
Betty returned to her pretense, but stopped to look at Ashley more and more often, until finally she just lay there with a puzzled look on her face. Ashley could see Betty out of the corner of her eye, but kept looking away.
A minute later, without warning, Betty got up slowly, turned to see if
anyone was watching her, and then walked back to the broad jump line as if nothing had happened. “My turn yet?”
Ashley chuckled to herself, and returned to help with the measuring tape.
Twice that day, and three times on the last Saturday of the month, Chad found occasions to inconspicuously brush up against Ashley. The last time he did, she turned and smiled invitingly at the quiet, handsome lad, who was standing just inches from her. The look on his face told her clearly and unmistakably that more and better was to come.
The first Saturday in June dawned early for Ashley. By six o’clock she had her little daypack filled with all the clothes she would need for the weekend, and by 6:30 she had eaten breakfast with her father and was hugging him good-bye. As he watched her dash down the street in the morning light, he thought, with a twinge of sadness, how quickly it was that little girls grew up.
The house manager and all four of the trainers who worked at the Pine Street Group Home must have been on duty that morning when Ashley arrived, hurrying to get the handicapped residents awake, cleaned, dressed, fed, and into the van by seven o’clock. It was a Herculean effort, Kim explained, because the mentally handicapped were very bothered by any change in their routines.
Without even being asked, Ashley set to helping Frank, who had poor finger control, to finish his breakfast.
“Thanks, Ashley,” Kim said while helping Lori, who had come out into the living room only half dressed. “As I anticipated, the organizing committee would be totally appreciative of your willingness to say a few welcoming words at the event, and I wrote down what they want you to say. You can read it on the way and see what you think.”
“It’ll be good practice for me,” Ashley said. “I want to be in the next real Olympics.”
“That’s going to be in Athens, Greece, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, the summer games, anyway.”
By 7:20, they finally got all of the residents into the van, said a prayer that they had all the clothes and other supplies they needed, and headed for the Interstate, where Kim planned to make up some of the time they had lost.
Ashley was sitting in the front seat, and the two trainers who were coming along were interspersed in the rear seats with the residents.
Ashley looked at the little speech that had been written for her. “I guess I can say this, if you think it will help. How many people will be there?”
Kim was accelerating to eighty miles per hour as they left the outskirts of Rapid City behind. “About seventy-five participants, another fifty staff, and a couple of hundred spectators.”
“Wow. There were four thousand three hundred people at the State Women’s Gymnastics Championships last year. More this year, I heard. A lady from the newspaper came to the gym once and asked me why I didn’t defend my championship. I just said I was busy with plans for the future.”
Kim chuckled. “Special Olympics is tiny by comparison. That’s why we need all the support we can get. We put your name on some of our advertising, like you said we could.”
The drive to Pierre, the capital of South Dakota, was completed by most people in two hours. Unfortunately, the residents required at least one potty stop for each of them, no matter how much Kim coaxed them to all relieve themselves at the same stop. Chad was the only exception. Kim explained that these people had very little control over their lives, and every little thing they could do to gain some say in what happened to them was too tempting for them to resist. And, of course, getting somewhere by a certain deadline had little or no meaning to them. The drive to Pierre therefore took three and a half hours, but Kim knew that the entire morning was devoted to getting the residents from out of town settled into the bunk room at the National Guard Armory.
As soon as they arrived, Kim introduced Ashley to the chairwoman of the organizing committee. She was a goofy fat lady, in Ashley’s opinion, who didn’t seem to want to have much to do with the handicapped people, and she invited Ashley to join the committee for lunch at a restaurant. Ashley declined, saying that she needed to help one of the residents of Pine Street Group Home during lunch.
By one o’clock, the last minute preparations were being completed and the few spectators were filtering into the main assembly hall of the Armory. It
was about the size of a gym, but had a concrete instead of a wooden floor, and that was covered by old tumbling mats for the events. There were a few streamers and balloons that had been put up, but it would take much more, Ashley decided, to make the military gray of the building look bright and cheery.
Fifteen minutes later the chairwoman told Ashley to go ahead. Ashley stepped to the microphone and started to speak, but the microphone was dead. Five minutes and six or seven feedback screeches later, they finally had it working. The audience seemed to take it in stride, not expecting any better.
“Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to the South Dakota Special Olympics. I’m Ashley Riddle, your State Gymnastics Champion from last year. I’m not here to do gymnastics this time. I’m here to help some of our citizens, who are unable to participate in regular sporting events because of their different abilities, to have fun.”
That was all that was written down for Ashley to say, but she knew something was missing. Suddenly she knew what it was. She lowered the paper and went on. “So I want all of you out there in the bleachers to help me out. Remember how exciting it was when you took your first bike ride without training wheels? Remember how wonderful you felt when your children learned to walk? Well, it’s like that for these people when they make it to the finish line all by themselves, or jump just a little bit farther than they ever did before. It’s a dream-come-true, and we’re here to share that excitement with them! We’re here to show them that they can share in the good feelings of trying hard and sometimes even winning, just like athletes from all over the world do at the real Olympics!”
The improvised part of her welcome speech was delivered with so much genuine feeling that the entire audience, which Ashley later learned had almost doubled from the previous year, stood up and clapped. The chairwoman of the organizing committee, however, was looking very uncomfortable during Ashley’s improvisation, and was right there as soon as the clapping started to relieve Ashley of the microphone.
As soon as Ashley sat down with her group, Kim patted her on the back.
“Good work, kid! Organizing committee peed their pants ‘cause they didn’t write it. They’re administrators, in it for the salaries, and don’t like to be
involved with the people themselves. It was perfect! ”
As the events began, it quickly became clear to Ashley what her role had to be. There were trainers and other volunteers who would encourage the individuals along in their events, keeping them on task and aimed at the finish line, but absolutely no one was making it exciting for the audience. Ashley wondered to herself how the contestants could possibly get excited about what they were doing if the audience wasn’t.
She started by going out to the finish lines and bouncing around as the racers approached. As soon as she saw that it was helping the handicapped contestants to focus on their goal, she started clowning more and more. Even though she was in blue jeans and shirt, she began to instinctively throw in some simple gymnastics moves, a cartwheel now and then, a handstand to make the people laugh, a series of handsprings if she was on a mat.
Soon Ashley was the driving force during each event. The chairwoman would do the announcing, and trainers and volunteers would get the handicapped people started, but Ashley was the one who goaded them on to a high level of excitement and got the audience involved. By the fourth race, the spectators were chanting Go! Go! Go! as the wheelchairs made their way across the floor.
As the contestants threw their softballs, Ashley was right there, coaxing them to try and throw the ball to her, always being just a little farther than she thought they could throw. She only misjudged a few times and had to duck or dodge. As soon as each ball landed she jumped up into the air, clapping and waving her arms, and the audience cheered.
When Chad, and a few other physically high-functioning ones from other towns, stepped up for the softball throw, Ashley moved way back to the end of the throwing field, put her hands on her knees like a baseball outfielder, and grinned the big Ashley Riddle grin, daring them to throw as far as they could.
Chad’s throw came directly toward her, she leapt aside, and it smacked the back wall firmly.
While the broad jump mat was being set up, Ashley dashed over to where Kim was getting her residents ready for the event.
“How am I doing?” Ashley gasped, regaining her breath from all the running and clowning.
“We
have
never had such excellent audience participation, and all the residents are doing better than they ever have before, and loving it! Thank you, Ashley! Can you keep it up for another hour?”
“Sure, soon as I grab some lemonade!”
As soon as the next event started, Ashley was right there with the jumpers, coaxing the spectators to explode with excitement as each person’s distance was called out. Most of the participants even clapped for themselves after each jump.
When the handing out of trophies and ribbons began, Ashley knew that one more burst of excitement was needed, so she grabbed the first two who had just received their ribbons, took them by the hands and started a parade around the room. With her coaxing, others followed, and the trainers quickly saw what was happening and guided the rest into the parade as soon as they received their awards. Soon all seventy-three contestants were walking, hobbling, or wheeling around the room, waving their ribbons or holding up their trophies proudly. The audience cheered loudly and virtually every handicapped person was smiling.
During a tasty baked chicken dinner, which was prepared and served in the Armory’s huge dining room by the National Guardsmen who worked in the building, Ashley received several compliments for her facilitation efforts.
She heard at least twice that they could not have gotten a better person for the job even if they had hired a professional. Ashley blushed with embarrassment. It had all come naturally and seemed so necessary. She hardly dared to imagine how boring the Special Olympics in previous years must have been if they didn’t have someone doing what she had done that day.
After dinner, a solid two hours were consumed getting all the handicapped people showered and dressed for the dance that was being hosted for them that evening. Even as they did so, a squad of Guardsmen were doing what they could to transform the big assembly room into a dance hall. Ashley helped by looking for articles of clothing that had become misplaced, and just chatting with the residents about the excellent work they had done and how good their ribbons would look on the walls of their rooms.
When everyone was finally shuffled off to the dance, Ashley was at last able to change into the nicer clothes she had brought.
As she entered the make-shift dance hall, she was a little surprised by what she saw, but soon realized that she shouldn’t have been. Only very occasionally would an actual male-female couple step onto the dance floor and move to the music. Most of the mentally handicapped people were moving to the music in some manner, but it was usually by themselves, and in a way that Ashley wouldn’t have called dancing. Rocking, twitching, jerking, maybe, but not dancing.
She quickly discovered that a great many of them were more fond of the refreshment table than anything else, and had to be discouraged by the trainers after they had consumed eight or ten cookies. Ashley smiled at those tending the table and selected a cookie to nibble on.
When she noticed that Chad was not dancing, but just ambling around, or perching on the back of a chair tapping his feet to the music, Ashley was a little surprised. But she wasn’t completely mystified when she realized that he was looking at her quite a bit of the time. In the events that afternoon, he had seemed like just a normal fifteen-year-old boy running, jumping, and throwing the softball, and could have easily taken most of the trophies if he hadn’t been limited to only one. Her heart started to beat faster, and she wondered if volunteers were allowed to dance with residents.
As she nibbled her cookie and chatted with the trainers and the talkative residents, she discovered that the only thing that was not allowed was dancing that did not include the handicapped. She soon found herself ambling in the area where Chad was sitting or standing.
It happened quickly and suddenly. She was gazing off at the ‘dancers’ one moment, and the next thing she knew Chad had gently slipped his hand into hers. She looked into his smiling face. He was so quiet, so mysterious. But Ashley knew very well what he was making her feel. Her heart was pounding and her whole body was tingling with excitement. She returned his smile, and when he gave a slight tug with his hand toward the dance floor, she went without a second thought.
Ashley was happy when the song that was just starting turned out to be a
slow one, and happier still when she discovered that Chad was perfectly able to dance slowly with a partner, even if his footwork wasn’t great. She didn’t mind — neither was hers. She laid her head against his chest as he slipped his arm around her and they began to move slowly to the music. Her heart throbbed and her mind reeled with fantasies of this handsome male hugging her, kissing her... loving her.
When the song ended, she found that he did not automatically let go of her, as she would have expected, but stayed right there for the next song. She didn’t mind. Her hormones were flying higher than they ever had before and she was enjoying every moment of it. The song wasn’t quite as slow, but the rhythm worked for them, and she was starting to sense that Chad was breathing faster and his body was getting hotter. She was beginning to genuinely wish that they were alone.
But they weren’t, and when the song ended and a third began, and still Chad held onto her, she started to get embarrassed. She enjoyed the dance, but as soon as it ended, she spoke for the first time since they had been on the dance floor.
“I have to take a rest, Chad.”
He smiled and walked her back to the sidelines.
“Thank you, Chad. You’re a good dancer.”
“You... too... Ashley,” he said in a voice that was just a little slower than normal.
Ashley squeezed his hand one last time, and then slipped away toward the refreshment table, needing some time to breathe, some time to think, before the rush of emotions surging through her body completely overwhelmed her.
With shaking hands she picked up a cup of punch and found a chair. The cold, sweet liquid tasted good against her hot, dry throat. She sipped as her mind spun with the realization that for the first time in her life she wanted a boy to love her, completely, without any reservations or limitations, without any care for the consequences.
A minute later Sandy the trainer sat down in the next chair.
“Hi,
Ashley.”
“Hi, Sandy,” she said after swallowing the mouthful of punch she had been letting trickle down her throat.
“I’ll speak honestly to you, but it’s up to you to decide what to do with it.”
Ashley looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“From what I hear, Chad is an awesome lay. He can do it so good a girl will beg for more. But he’s also totally incapable of having even the simplest relationship with a girl after that.”
As soon as she had finished speaking, Sandy rose and wandered over to the refreshment table, not looking back.
Ashley was confused. She felt she wanted a boy, for the first time in her life, and she knew he wanted her. She was imagining doing things with him like walking hand in hand to the snack shop, meeting when she got out of the gym, going to dances together... and someone who knew him very well was telling her that he was incapable of a relationship beyond... having sex. A large part of her didn’t want to believe Sandy. She had to know for herself.
Ashley almost spilled the rest of her punch as she hopped out of her chair, looking around for Chad as soon as she was on her feet. He wasn’t far away, and he was looking at her. Her heart went into high gear again as she walked quickly over to him.
“Hi,
Chad!”
“Hi...
Ashley!”
The fact that he spoke slowly didn’t, in itself, bother Ashley. In fact, somehow it added to his attractiveness. Ashley remained hopeful that Sandy was wrong.
“Chad, what kinds of things do you like to do in your spare time?”
“Spare... time...? Read... magazines.”
Ashley began to feel relieved. Although she had never been a quick reader, she enjoyed books and magazines, and would certainly want to share things she had learned with her boyfriend.
“I get a gymnastics magazine. What kinds do you like?”
“Naked... girl... magazines.”
Her heart began to sink. But she had to know for sure, one way or the other. She couldn’t let any more time go by without knowing whether to love this boy... or to let him go.
“Oh. Chad? Do you have lots of friends?”
“Lots... Peggy... my friend.”
“What do you and Peggy do together?”
“Me... and... Peggy...we... do it... in... the woods...”
Ashley’s throat glued itself shut and her eyes quickly filled with tears. She dashed out of the dance hall without another word, into the cool night air of Pierre, South Dakota.
When Ashley finally returned to the Armory bunk room three hours later, the dance was over and the handicapped people had all been tucked into bed.
Her eyes were dry now, but their lingering redness could not be hidden. Kim and Sandy both greeted her, but didn’t bother her about what had happened, and she was very glad. She quickly got ready for bed and crawled in.
She didn’t know what time it was when he came to her — may two or three in the morning. He was as silent as anyone could be, and shook her to wakefulness so gently that she opened her eyes without making a sound. In the glow of a nearby nightlight, she could see him smiling at her. Everything that had passed between them flashed into her mind, and she knew this was the moment — the moment that he wanted, and the moment that she had briefly imagined she wanted. She could tiptoe out into the darkness and have her body loved by this beautiful hunk of a boy until she could stand the pleasure no longer. She wanted that, her body was screaming for it, threatening to exclude all reason. But her heart wanted to hold hands with him, walk to the snack bar, and talk about things that were happening in their lives. Her mind couldn’t separate the two images.
Against the pull of all her throbbing desire, she told herself no. As soon as she made that decision, her hormones started to relax and let her think. She also knew she didn’t want to wake anyone and get Chad in trouble. So she just shook her head. She could see in the dim light that the smile fell from his face. He came closer, kissed her on the cheek, and then was gone, without a sound.
Ashley lay awake for at least another hour, rolling around in her mind everything that had happened, wondering if she had made the right decision, wondering if he would come back, and wondering if a boy would ever offer to love her again.
As dawn light began to fill the sky, she drifted into a restless sleep full of
dreams about wheelchairs, softballs, and pornographic magazines...
When she woke again on that bright Sunday morning in early June, Kim and the trainers were already up sipping coffee, and some of the residents were starting to rouse. She stretched and sat up, silently affirming to herself that she didn’t want Chad to get in any trouble over what had happened. As soon as she stood up, she could see that Chad was still asleep several bunks down.
“Good morning, Ashley!” Kim said. “Anything happen last night that you need help with?”
“Um... no. Thanks, though.” Then her eyes moved to the table where beverages and boxes of donuts were arrayed. “Say, got any fruit juice?”
For the rest of the morning, Ashley helped the trainers to prepare the residents for their day of sight-seeing around the state capital. She and Chad avoided each other.
Before they left, the chairwoman of the organizing committee came by and personally thanked Ashley for helping to make that year’s Special Olympics the most exciting they had ever had, and asked if she would consider doing it again the following year. The Chairwoman looked uncomfortable, as if she didn’t really agree with what she was saying, but had been required by someone else to say it anyway. Ashley had to honestly say she didn’t know what she would be doing the following year.
Their drive back to Rapid City took more than four hours as each resident seemed to need at least two potty stops. Kim figured it was all the punch at the dance, combined with a desire that the weekend last as long as possible.
Ashley stayed for dinner at the Pine Street Group Home that evening for the last time, even though she knew it would completely go against her training diet. After dinner all of the residents gathered in the living room to say good-bye to their bouncing, tumbling, hooping and hollering volunteer.
She shook hands with or hugged each of them, as they preferred. Chad was the last one. He stood there with a slight smile on his face, and Ashley realized that it was up to her to decide how they were going to part. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, but for a different reason than before. She was sad
— not so much for her own personal loss, but sad that such an unbridgeable
gulf existed between them that made saying good-bye necessary.
Finally she stepped up to him, took his hands in hers, and kissed him on the cheek. Without another word to anyone, she grabbed her pack and slipped out the front door before her eyes had a chance to reveal what she was feeling.