Speak

Speak

By

Ashley Michael Day

Based on a True Story…

Donna hated noise. She had hated it for as long as she could remember. Which was a very long time. She had a brilliant memory. She could remember everything she had done on any date. No matter how minute the detail. It was, "How her brain was built," her father would tell her. That was his answer for everything. Not that Donna agreed with him. They had never discussed it. They didn't discuss anything. She had never spoken to her father. Not once. Not a single word. Not in the whole ten years and seven months they'd known each other. But that was okay with him. Afterall, It was how her brain was built.

The hoover was very loud!

She hated it.

Every time her father would use it, Donna would stick her fingers in her ears to drown out its excruciating hum. When it would come too close to her on the sofa, she would groan to herself. She wanted to tell him to stop. Tell him how much it hurt her ears. Her head. But there was no point. It was inconsequential. The hoovering needed to be done, so telling him not to hoover would have been pointless. The house work would always have to be done. It would never end. No matter how many times she would put her things out, just where she wanted them, her father would tidy them away. She found the whole thing futile and quite annoying. But, it was all part of their routine. Her mother had done the same thing before she disappeared. So Donna just sat with her fingers in her ears, waiting for the droning to stop. And for her school bus to arrive...

'Morning Donna,' the elderly lady on the bus said, 'And how are we today?'

Donna kept her head down. Breathing in the faint musky smell of the upholstery. She didn't like making eye contact. Nor did she feel the need to answer. She felt the same today as she did most days. One day was no different from the other, but Sylvia would continue to ask her.

'Last day of term, going anywhere nice for the summer?'

Donna quietly climbed aboard the little white bus and made her way to her usual seat. It was a charcoal colour with very fine woven threads of reds, blues, and greens. The flares of colour reminded Donna of the fireworks on Guy Fawkes night. Without the horrible loud explosions.

This was a good start to the day. If someone had taken her seat, things might have gone badly. Not that she would complain.

'You taking her anywhere nice over the holidays?'

'Depends,' Donna's father replied, 'we might get away somewhere?'

Sylvia didn't press the issue. She had been working at the Walnuts Special Needs School for twenty years now, and had seen it all. She knew Donna's dad was a single parent. She had witnessed the strain that came with raising a child with special needs. Many couples break up. Some just leave. They walk out, unable to cope. Sometimes both parents are unable to cope. The Walnuts had many full time students who lived at the school. Vic was a devoted father. No matter how easy it would be to surrender Donna over to the authorities, he never would. No matter how severe her disability.

'See you later, honey!' Vic called to his daughter, who was too busy staring out the window to reply.

Sylvia smiled at him. He so desperately wanted to hear his daughter speak. To say anything. Just one word. The pleading in his eyes was heartbreaking.

'See you later, Vic,' Sylvia said.

As the bus door slid closed, Vic continued to watch his daughter stare out of the window. He sometimes wondered if he even existed in his daughter's world? If he was only a provider of food and shelter to her? If she would even notice if he was no longer around? If that was indeed the case, Vic Gillespie had learned to accept that. Afterall, it was just how her brain was built…

Donna loved routine and hated any deviation. She knew the bus route off by heart. Memorised every turn on the road, the transforming architecture as they weaved from one estate to another, the local landmarks, everything. She knew the names of every street they had to stop off at. Who's house belonged to each classmate. She needed to know these things. It made her feel less anxious. It unsettled her if anything was out of the ordinary. If a child was unable to go to school because they were sick. It would play on her mind for the rest of the day.

But today was the last day of term. And it was going to be a good day and a bad day for Donna.

They were nearly there.

Liam's house.

Not that it mattered that Liam lived there. The only difference that made was if Liam didn't live there she wouldn't see Liam's house anymore. And that would be terrible. If they still drove to Liam's house, even if Liam was no longer living there, that would be okay. It wasn't even the house that mattered. It was what was inside the house, Donna loved.

Liam's house was a semi detached house with a large white door with frosted glass. It had wide bay windows that looked out across a long stretch of lawn. A giant bush with purple speared flowers grew adjacent to the drive and encroached both the path and doorstep. Donna had seen this house hundreds of times, but it still filled her with excitement.

She watched as Liam came out of his house carrying his backpack. He was the same age as her. He walked a little stooped like most of her classmates. That way they didn't have to look at anyone directly. He was followed by his Mum who was the opposite. She was an enthusiastic woman who people could easily talk to.

But it was neither of them Donna was excited to see.

Donna smiled as she saw Boson.

It was her favourite part of the day. She would count down the minutes to the return journey so she could see him again.

Boson was not a conventionally beautiful dog. But Donna thought he was. She utterly adored him. He was a Blue Merle, Rough Collie, mongrel. He was not symmetrical in any way. He was a combination of black, grey, and blue patches of fur, with a great white fluffy bib. One of his ears stood up whilst the other was forever bent. Boson had been diagnosed by the Vet with an inoperable brain tumour, cataract, and hernia.

His owners were told:

"Take him home and make him comfortable, he won't have long."

Which they did.

And after a diet of full fat milk and expensive treats, Boson would live for a further decade! Unprepared to give up a good thing.

Donna smiled as she watched Boson bark and skip. He had a fat collie bottom that made it seem like his front paws were trying to out run his bum, like it was the big ball in Indiana Jones. Liam's mum would always bring Boson to the bus because she knew Donna loved him. Donna would point at him and clench her hands. She had asked if Donna had wanted to stroke him years ago, but Donna had looked away and said nothing. She'd been too shy to say yes. And it was too late for her to change her mind. No matter how much she wanted to stroke Boson.

As the bus door opened, Liam climbed in mumbling under his breath as he took his seat. Donna ignored him, too excited to see her favourite dog.

'Morning,' Sylvia said, addressing Liam's mum, 'you're looking nice.'

'Thanks.'

'You always look so lovely.'

That's because I get up at the crack of dawn to do my hair and makeup,' she laughed.

Donna was too busy staring at Boson. He had climbed up on the steps of the bus. He was panting in excitement as he looked inside the vehicle. Donna thought he was smiling at them. She wished he would climb aboard and come to school with them. That would be a dream come true!

'Get down,' Liam's mum commanded, 'you can't go.'

Boson reluctantly climbed down.

This made Donna sad. It was as if she had read Donna's mind and was worried she would steal her dog. But Donna wouldn't steal Boson. No matter how much she really wanted to.

Sylvia enquired:

'Going away this year?'

'Next week,' Liam's mum replied. 'We're heading down to St Ives in Cornwall. I have a friend who lives down in Hayle we visit.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah, it's beautiful down there. You should go, you'd love it down there. It's a seven hour drive, but once you get there, it's definitely worth it.'

'You'll have to show me the photos,' Sylvia said. 'We'd better be off. Wave goodbye to Boson, Donna.'

'Up you get, Bo-bet,' Liam's mum said, patting the steps for the dog to bounce up. Donna smiled as the dog jumped back into view and panted. Donna lifted her hand and waved at him.

The two women smiled.

That was the best part of her day.

The worst would be the return journey.

School had been unusual, which normally would have been awful for Donna, but it actually was satisfactory. They had watched two films and had been given biscuits, crisps, and fizzy drinks. She had enjoyed that. They had pickled onion Monster Munch which she would eat at home. So that was satisfactory too.

The only incident that could have made today a bad day was the incident with the Nee-Naw Car.

The Nee-Naw Car was a pedal Police car the children took turns to ride during break time. It was known as the Nee-Naw Car because many of the children couldn't say the word Police car. But they were able to make the siren sound:

Nee-Naw! Nee-Naw!

Today was Donna Gillespie's turn.

Donna was pedalling around the playground, doing loops. She didn't make the siren sound like the other children. Donna knew what noise a Police car made and simply imagined it. She could hear it in her head. She didn't see the need to make the sound herself. But one of the boy's disagreed.

'You're doing it wrong,' Lee Hubbard complained. Lee Hubbard was a big bully who wore heavy corrective shoes. He would use them to kick other children and make them sad. 'You're not making the noise!'

She tried to ignore him and drive past. But Lee stepped out in front of the car, blocking her path.

'Get out of the Nee-Naw Car, you're not doing it right.'

The bully had timed his grand theft auto perfectly. The lunch lady, who was meant to be watching the children play, was distracted by another child throwing a hissy fit. As the supervising adult wrestled with the other child's temper tantrum, Lee Hubbard dragged Donna out of the pedal car by her blonde curls. The boy's grip on her hair was painful. But Donna could shed no tears. Despite her groans, the chubby boy pulled her away from the toy car and pushed her to the ground. She scraped her palms on the asphalt, grazing them. Her hands were dirty with bloody dots of broken skin. She watched in silence as the boy climbed into the car and pedalled away, squealing:

'Nee-Naw! Nee-Naw!'

No one came to her aid. Most of the children were in their own little worlds. No one was going to help her. But she wasn't going to tell.

She would deal with the problem herself.

She marched off to the classroom and got herself the porcelain cup the teacher kept her pens in. She spilled the writing implements onto the desk and headed to the little girls room. She filled the cup with ice cold water and returned to the playground. She watched Lee pedaling in circles crying out:

'Nee-Naw! Nee-Naw! Nee-Naw!'

As Lee circled by her, Donna emptied the contents of the cup over the boy. The bully burst into tears. His shirt was pasted to his body and his hair was soaked. Lee climbed out of the car squealing. He ran away sobbing. The lunch lady chased after the traumatised boy who fled from the playground. Donna didn't give him a second thought as she climbed back into the Nee-Naw Car and pedalled away in silence.

That had been manageable.

But the journey home from school was going to be tough. It was the start of the summer holidays. Six weeks away from school. Six weeks away from her routine. And more importantly…six weeks away from Boson.

They pulled outside of Liam's house. Liam's mum didn't come to the bus after school. But she would open the door for Liam. And when she did, Boson would normally be by her feet. Donna pressed her face against the cold glass and watched as Liam climbed the path. Her heart was racing.

Would he be there?

The bus started to pull away.

Donna watched as the door opened. The bus was crawling from the house. Donna wanted to scream for it to stop! But she never made a sound. Instead she silently watched as Liam entered his house and swiftly closed the door behind him.

Boson was nowhere to be seen.

It was a terrible start to the summer.

'Hey darling,' her father greeted her, 'did you have a good day at school?'

Donna didn't answer. She slipped off her shoes and headed into the living room.

Vic watched as her daughter took up her usual spot in front of the television. She put her favourite video tape into the recorder and watched it for the thousandth time. He had memorised every word. The song about the Spider in the bath. Nelly the elephant. And Donna's particular favourite, Spot the dog. They watched the video. And when the tape had finished, he sighed as he heard the familiar sound of the tape whizzing in the machine as it was rewound. Knowing full well that they were about to watch it all over again. Living with autism consisted of a lot of repetition.

Donna felt comforted watching her familiar friends going through the same activities. It took her mind off missing Boson and the coming changes.

Most summer holidays are a time of excitement. Children going out on their bicycles. Playing games. Exploring. Building dens. Getting into trouble. But not for Donna. None of those things appealed to her. She had no local children to play with. Her school friends were scattered all over town. And even if they did meet, they'd have nothing to say.

No. Donna had her video tape to keep her entertained.

Each morning Vic would hear his daughter sneak downstairs at six o'clock in the morning to watch early morning cartoons. He would come down bleary-eyed and find her in the middle of the living room cocooned in her She-Ra duvet. Eating a bowl of Sugar Puffs and drinking a pint of Coca-Cola. Waking herself up with a rush of sugar.

Vic would say a short prayer for the babysitter before heading off to work. He had gone through so many. They would often find it difficult to cope with Donna. They were used to normal children who were able to follow instruction and be disciplined. Donna was a special circumstance. Vic would instruct the babysitters to just comply with Donna's wishes. He didn't care what she did as long as she didn't die in the process.

He would then get home and prepare Donna's McCain's dinner. She was currently obsessed with Potato Waffles and wanted them with every meal. No matter the dish. Vic would be prepping a stir-fry, when suddenly he would hear the buzz from the freezer. The room would briefly become icy cold, like a faint winter chill. Then, as he turned, he would watch as Donna pulled out the familiar red and yellow box. Vic wouldn't fight her on this. It wasn't worth the agonising temper tantrums that would follow if she didn't get her way.

If Donna didn't get her way, she would turn into a groaning banshee. Kicking and biting till you eventually surrendered and let her have her way. And once you relented, she would transform back into that quiet, docile girl, as if nothing had happened.

After their meal, they watched Donna's video tape. Twice. Then, they would work on the flashcards…

The flashcards were cards with illustrations on one side and their meaning spelt on the other. Used to help developing children to learn to speak and read. Each night, father and daughter would sit at the kitchen table for the battle of wills. Over the six weeks this had become part of their new routine.

Donna hated it.

'Apple...Apple,' Vic said, holding up the card with the matching picture. 'Can you say, Apple?'

Donna didn't respond.

'Apple…Come on, sweetie, say Apple.'

Again, Donna didn't reply.

'Okay, how about…Car. Say: car for me.'

Donna didn't speak.

Not one word.

Not one grunt or groan.

She sat in her chair smelling the faint aroma of pine from the table polish, not even attempting to utter a word.

She didn't see why she should. She knew it was a car. What would it achieve saying it aloud?

Vic was growing impatient. He had been told years ago that the likelihood of Donna ever speaking even a hundred words in her lifetime was unlikely. And most of those words would mean nothing to her. No more than a parrot mimicking its owner. But after all those weeks, Vic had hoped for some progress with his home schooling. Something to show for all his hard work. Just one word. But still Donna wouldn't try.

'Come on baby, you know what this is, so say it. What is this? What's on this card?"

Silence.

'What is this? What's on this card?'

No response.

'Jesus! Just say it! Just once. Car. Car. Say it. Car. Try. Just this once. Car…For God sake!'

Frustrated, he scrunched up the flashcard and banged his fist on the table. The loud bang shook the wood like a kettle drum. Donna didn't like the loud noise and immediately cupped both her ears and groaned.

'Ssh! Ssh! I'm sorry,' her father pleaded, after he had stopped weeping. 'I'm really sorry. Daddy's sorry, okay? It's er, it's not your fault…It's just how your brain is built, that's all…Let's er, let's watch your tape. Let's watch Spot the dog, yeah?'

So they did.

They watched her tape. Donna managed to focus on her animated friends despite her father's sobbing. Donna couldn't cry. She sometimes wished she could, but the tears would never flow. She could feel like crying, but that was all she could manage.

Donna couldn't say why…

The summer holidays ended. Donna was very excited to be going back to the Walnuts school. Not because she missed it and her classmates. She was happy to be back on the bus.

'Hi there! How are you? You have a nice holiday, Donna?' Sylvia beamed at her as the bus door opened.

Donna lowered her head, avoiding eye contact, which Sylvia mistook as a nod.

``Great, glad to hear it. Did she enjoy her break?'

'You'd have to ask her that,' Vic muttered.

Sylvia was stunned.

'Sorry,' he apologised, 'I had hoped…Don't mind me. I'd got my hopes up, that's all. Should've known better by now, shouldn't I? If she hasn't said anything by now, surely…'

He looked across the school bus and saw his daughter staring out her usual window into oblivion. Offering a meek smile of surrender, Vic handed Sylvia Donna's school bag and backed away from the bus.

Sylvia was lost for words. She had never seen the man defeated. She started to wonder whether the Walnuts Special needs school might be receiving another full-time resident. Not that she could blame him. Unless you've lived with special needs, you'll never know what your breaking point is.

As they drove away, Sylvia kept glancing at Donna, who was blissfully gazing out the window. The little girl seemed happy in her own small world. Not knowing what the future might bring?

Donna did not show it, but she was filled with joy with every house stop she counted off. Each student who climbed aboard was ticked off her list in her head. Not that she was thrilled to see them. She was just counting down to Liam's house.

The bus pulled up outside the familiar property. The white door gleamed in the morning light. This was what Donna was waiting for. She pressed her face against the window pane. The door opened and Liam climbed out. Soon he was followed by his mother.

And then…there he was.

Nothing could describe the pleasure she felt as she saw her dog. Boson bounced from the doorstep across the lawn, yapping in excitement. The dog shook his scruffy silver coat as he followed his owners towards the bus. Donna's fingers twitched with the thought of stroking the collie's thick, luxurious coat.

The bus's side door slid open as Liam climbed in.

'Did you have a lovely Summer, Liam?'

'Yes, thank you,' Liam mumbled as he took his seat.

'How was the holiday? Cornwall, wasn't it?'

'Yes,' Liam's mum confirmed, 'we had a wonderful time. We were really lucky with the weather. Mind you, we usually are lucky with that.'

Donna wasn't really listening to their conversation, she was too distracted by Boson. He was standing on his hind legs looking into the vehicle. She loved how the dog blinked. Boson' s right eye with the cataract would blink before the left one did. The dog was staring at her panting and smiling. Donna wrung her hands. It was a nervous habit she couldn't break. She desperately wanted to cuddle the dog. To run her fingers through his fur. Hold him in her arms. Feel his heartbeat against her.

But she couldn't.

He was not her dog.

'Did you hear that, Donna?' Sylvia asked.

Donna glimpsed their way, and just as sudden, turned away, avoiding eye contact. 'Liam's mum has something for you.'

'It's nothing really,' Liam's mum explained, 'we just won it at the holiday camp we were staying at.' The lady lifted up a stuffed cuddly toy. It was of a fox with rich red fur and a bright white bib and fluffy tail. ``We thought you might like it because it looks a bit like Boson.'

And it did. To Donna, the cuddly toy was the spitting image of her beloved Boson. It was not the same colour as his silver and patchy coat, but it had his fluffy tail. His pointy ears. His long pointed snout.

It was wonderful!

Liam's mum handed the cuddly Boson to her. Donna accepted the toy and embraced it. She buried her face in its soft fur. She didn't mind that the toy strangely smelt of curry. It was exactly how she imagined Boson would feel in her arms. His soft fur and cuddly body. Donna had never been so happy.

'Thank you...'

The two women were dumbfounded. For a split second they thought they'd imagined it.

'What did you say? ' Sylvia asked.

'Thank you,' Donna repeated. She didn't look at them, she was too busy playing with her dog. Her very own Boson.

The next day, Sylvia told Liam's mum how delighted Donna's father was on hearing the news. How he had shed tears of joy when he heard his daughter had spoken for the first time in her life. That it was the greatest gift he had ever received.

Liam's mum blushed and said:

'He's more than welcome.'

Donna wasn't really listening to their conversation. She was too busy cuddling her own version of Boson, whilst looking at the original. The dog smiled up at her with his wonky ear and blind eye, panting. Blissfully unaware of the wonderful gift he had given to so many.