The news seemed to hit Mrs. Harris, because something changed in her expression. But only for a brief moment. She came closer and Ella sensed a peace within her. Like she had a special kind of faith or trust, maybe. She stopped near Holden’s other side. “You asked if he remembers you.” Her smile softened and she looked at Holden and then back. “He does, Ella. I know he does.”
“I think so too.” Ella let that thought settle in her heart for a few seconds. “He looked at me. Just before you got here.” In the corner of her eye she saw Holden digging through his backpack. He pulled out his cards and started shuffling them.”
“At you?” Mrs. Harris hesitated. “You mean in your direction? Near you?”
“No.” She smiled and the slightest laugh came from her. A happy laugh. “He looked right at me. He’s done that a few times. That’s how come I think you’re right, that he remembers me.”
Holden pulled a card from the deck and then changed his mind and stuck it back in the middle somewhere. Mrs. Harris looked at him and then settled carefully in the seat beside him. “Holden, are you glad you found Ella?”
Ella expected him to look up again, but he kept sorting. After half a minute, Mrs. Harris stood again and lowered her voice. “He … he hasn’t looked right at me in a long time. And he hasn’t talked since his diagnosis.”
The truth hit Ella like so many fragments of broken glass. She squinted, not believing. Holden didn’t look at his mother? How hard would that be, living with someone who didn’t connect with you? But then … he had definitely connected with her.
Once more Holden snagged a card from the deck and this time he held it up for them to see. Both Ella and Mrs. Harris leaned a little closer. The picture was a heart and music notes and what looked like an old-fashioned radio. Beneath it the words said, I love this song. As he held it, Holden didn’t look at either of them. His eyes were cast upward to a distant empty spot on the classroom wall.
Ella’s heart fell. When Holden looked at her, for that short time he was like any other kid. No, he was better than the other kids, because his eyes were kind and sweet and full of hope. Like no one had ever been mean to him or picked on him. Like all things in life were possible. But now … She looked at Holden’s mother. “What song?”
A helpless look warmed her expression and she smiled briefly at Holden. “I’m not sure. The music cards are new.” She sighed. “Holden loves all music. It was very nice of you, Ella. Getting him in this class.”
“He tried to stop and watch. When his class walked by.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I thought he should be allowed to stay.”
“Well … thank you.” She looked deep into Ella’s face, like she was seeing the little girl she’d once been. “You were such a sweet child. I always thought you’d grow up to be a nice girl.” She touched the side of Ella’s face and a hint of tears sparkled in her eyes. “I wasn’t sure we’d ever see you again.”
Ella remembered the scrapbook. “Just a minute.” It was on the other side of the classroom, and she hurried to it. Ella hadn’t expected this, the connection she felt to Holden’s mother. So far the woman seemed to be everything her mom was not. She talked easily, and she had a transparency about her that was refreshing. Nothing about her looked fake or bought or injected. Maybe it was the praying she’d talked about earlier. Something Ella’s family never did.
As Ella returned with the scrapbook she watched Holden slide the song card back into the deck and begin sorting through them more slowly. Ella sat in a chair a few spots down from him. She motioned for Holden’s mother to join her. “I brought this from home.”
Mrs. Harris took the chair next to her. She stared at the scrapbook and gently touched the cover. “I remember this. We each made one.” She turned her eyes to Ella. “Your mother and I.”
Ella ran her hand over it. “This is how I found out about Holden. I was going to show him.” She glanced at Holden. “But maybe it’s too soon.”
“Yes.” The woman looked back at Holden. For a moment.
“Maybe.”
Ella opened the front cover and flipped past the first few pages to the place where the picture spreads started including the Reynolds family. “I like this one.” She pointed to a photo of Holden and her sitting cross legged in what must have been the Harris’ backyard. They were facing each other, blowing bubbles. “We had fun, didn’t we?”
“All the time.” She smiled. “I remember that day.”
Another page and Ella stopped at a picture of the moms, their heads tilted in toward each other, goofy smiles on their faces. For the first time since Ella figured out her connection to Holden, something occurred to her. The friendship between Holden and her wasn’t the only one lost. “You and my mom … Were you close?”
Mrs. Harris sat back in her seat a little. “Yes.” A quiet sigh came from her. “Very close.”
Ella studied the photo. “How did you meet?”
Holden’s mother leaned close again, her eyes on the picture. “First day … freshman year of high school. She was in three of my classes, and we both wore the same blue shirt. By the time the last class rolled around, she told the teacher we were twins.” She smiled, the memory a happy one. “We were best friends from that day on.”
Ella enjoyed the story, but … best friends? She felt her smile drop off. “Like … best, best friends?”
“Have you seen your parents’ wedding album?” Holden’s mother’s expression was tender.
“A long time ago.” She pictured the way her parents were lately, never together, never talking. She blinked, willing away the memory. “The pictures are in our china cabinet. I don’t think anyone’s looked at it for a while.”
“I was your mother’s maid of honor.” She touched the faces beneath the plastic. “And she was mine. Our husbands were friends because of us. But your mother was … Well, she was like a sister.” The shiny look was back in her eyes, and her smile all but died. “I still miss her.”
“Why don’t you call?” Ella hated that her mother had lost a friend like Mrs. Harris. “I mean, was it that bad? How it ended?”
“We didn’t fight. Nothing like that”
Holden was rocking again, not too hard or too fast, but something was irritating him. Ella wished she knew what. Did he understand them? Did he remember when their families were friends and their mothers were like sisters? She looked straight at Holden’s mother again. “It was because … because things changed, is that right?”
Mrs. Harris sighed. “The other day … I wished I had more time with you so I could find out about your parents, how they’re doing.” She looked past Ella toward the cloudy afternoon sky. “There were days after our friendship died, when I wasn’t sure where the pain of losing Holden stopped and the pain of losing your mother began. It all blurred together for the longest time, especially after Holden’s dad left.”
“Oh.” Ella felt the disappointment. “You and Holden’s dad are divorced?”
“No.” Her smile was sad again. She glanced at Holden. If he was listening, he didn’t show it. His rocking slowed down, and he was sorting through his cards again. Mrs. Harris looked at Ella. “Mr. Harris is a fisherman in Alaska. We hardly ever see him.”
“Oh.” Ella thought about that. She felt sorry for Holden, that his dad wasn’t around. He’d lost much over the years, and now that they’d talked this much, Ella wanted to know the reason, wanted to hear it from Mrs. Harris. “So what happened? To end things between our families?”
“It was a long time ago, Ella.” She didn’t look like she wanted to place the blame on anyone. “Holden’s diagnosis was hard on all of us.”
“In what way?”
Once more the woman hesitated, as if she were weighing out how much to say. “Your mom worried about Holden … how his autism might affect you. Whether it was a learned behavior or contagious or when it might go away.”
Ella could picture her mother that way —worried more about Ella becoming autistic than the fact that they
’d lost Holden.
Mrs. Harris clasped her hands and stared at them for a few seconds. “I was … Well, I didn’t handle your mom’s questions very well. I got defensive.” She raised one shoulder. “Things became distant between us, I guess.”
“I’m sorry.” The story was coming together. Ella imagined that eventually her mother’s uneasiness about Holden drove a wedge between them bigger than Georgia. And Mrs. Harris could only defend Holden for so long without coming across as argumentative.
“I remember when it happened … when the break became permanent.” Mrs. Harris looked back at the spread of photos again. “Our phone calls were less and less frequent, our times together less often. Your parents took you to Florida for spring training.” She smiled at Ella. “Your dad was hitting better than almost anyone in the league back then.”
“He hasn’t hit like that for a long time.”
“Yes … well, anyway, when your family came home from Florida a month later, neither of us made contact. Weeks became months … months became years.” She paused for a long time. “Five Christmases later, I took my high school yearbook outside on the back porch on Christmas Eve and cried for an hour.”
Ella wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to ask the woman why she never made the first call if the loss hurt so badly, or how come the guys didn’t make contact if their wives weren’t speaking. But she didn’t want to seem rude or too forward. She was surprised Holden’s mother had opened up this much.
“I always hoped …” She blinked back tears, her eyes lost in what seemed like long-ago memories. “No one ever took her place.”
“But she wasn’t sympathetic… about Holden.” That part Ella could talk about.
“Some people are put off by autism …” She brushed her fingers beneath her eyes and looked at Holden. He still held onto his cards, but he was staring out the window now. Mrs. Harris sighed. “Autism is … Well, it’s complicated.”
Complicated? Holden’s mother didn’t have to be so kind. The real reason was ugly and hard to say out loud. Especially in front of Holden. Yes, Mrs. Harris could’ve placed the first phone call after so much time slipped away. But Ella’s mom was the one put off by a child with autism. She could’ve been sympathetic or helpful or at least a listening ear for what Holden’s mother must’ve been going through. But instead she’d run the other direction.
And how sad was that? Ella felt tears in her own eyes. She looked at the photographs again. “I don’t really know my mother. She never told me about you. About your friendship.”
The truth clearly hurt. Mrs. Harris struggled with her next words. “I guess some things are too sad to talk about.” Her words seemed as much for herself as for Ella. This detail—her mom never mentioning this special friendship—created still more pain. It had to. Holden’s mother took a deep breath and forced a bigger smile than before. “I’ll say this. Your mother and I had a lot of fun.” She nodded, as if she were assuring herself. “She could always make me laugh. We hung out every day. We fell in love around the same time and married our husbands the same year. Hers was a spring wedding, mine was summer.”
Ella listened, amazed. She was learning more about her mother from a woman she’d just met, here in an empty classroom, than she’d ever learned before. She could’ve sat here all night if it meant hearing more details like this.
“A few years later … we had our babies —just three months apart.”
“Who’s older?”
“He is.” Mrs. Harris smiled sweetly at Holden. “Right,
Holden?”
His eyes didn’t focus on either of them, but he had a hopeful look. The one where all the world was ever right and good. At least that’s how his expression seemed. Ella looked at the clock on the wall. “Mrs. Harris… I need to go.” She had to pick up her mother’s cleaning before four o’clock. It was on the list of ‘this-is-the-least-you-can-do-for-me’ jobs her mother asked her to do once in a while. “I want to hear more sometime, if that’s okay?”
“Definitely.” Again the woman’s expression was sweet. “You’ll have to come over. I have a home movie of the two of you.”
Ella’s heart warmed. “I’d like that. Thank you.” She stood, and Holden’s mother did the same thing. “I have a question.”
“Anything.” Mrs. Harris went to Holden and put her hand gently against his back. Her touch must have acted like some kind of signal because Holden put his flash cards away and stood. He swayed a little, but he didn’t flap or look agitated.
“Can Holden be in the school play?” She’d been tossing the idea around since the first time she saw him stop at the classroom door. “I mean, if I can get him in?”
A nervous look tightened the woman’s face a little. She cast a brief look at Holden. “He would love it, I really believe he would.” Cold reality dimmed her enthusiasm. “But I’m afraid… It’s a stretch for Holden to be an audience member.” She didn’t want to hurt Holden’s feelings. That much was obvious. “You know what I mean?”
Ella had to agree, but she wasn’t willing to give up. “Maybe if he’s enrolled in the class, at least then if he wants to he can have a part. In the ensemble.”
Holden’s mother patted Ella shoulder. She looked like she might tell Ella she was wasting her time, but then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Even if God gave us a miracle and Holden could stand on a stage without acting out, we couldn’t afford the fees.” She hugged Ella and placed her hand along Ella’s face. “But thanks for caring about him.” She smiled, searching Ella’s face. “You’re such a nice girl, Ella. You turned out exactly the way I knew you would.”
Holden was waiting patiently, but he was turning in tight circles and his hands were folded near his chin again.
“Here,” Mrs. Harris dug through her purse and pulled out a pen and a notepad. She jotted something down. “This is our phone number. I meant what I said about stopping by. Call anytime.” She led Holden toward the door. “Do me a favor, Ella?”
The moment was ending too soon. She still wanted to talk to Holden and show him the scrapbook. But they were out of time. “Anything.”
“Tell your mother … I said hi.”
“I will.” Ella gave her a final smile. Then she gathered her things and headed out the other door, the one closer to the senior parking lot. On the way out, she nearly ran into Michael Schwartz. “Oh … sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He stepped to the side and hesitated. He was carrying a music case—probably for his flute. The one the football players had made fun of that day in the hall. His shy eyes connected with hers. “What you’re doing for Holden… that’s really cool.”
Ella was touched. Was it getting around school that Holden was hanging out in the theater room? “How did you know?”
“I keep an eye on him.” A crooked grin tugged at his lips. “Those jerks would kill him otherwise. That’s what they want. A school where no one’s different or quiet, you know? Everyone has to be just like them.”
Regret splashed like ice water against her face. Michael was one of the few kids at Fulton who stuck up for Holden Harris. But who stuck up for Michael? She pictured him cornered by Jake and his buddy and she could hear their voices again. “You play the flute … most gay kids do … freak … this is our hallway … “ How could she ever have fallen for a guy like Jake?
“You play the flute, right?” She had never asked before, never allowed herself to be interested in a guy like Michael who was so different from her crowd.
“Yeah.” He lifted his case a little. “I’m in orchestra. We’re working on the spring production.”
“Right. I thought so.” That meant Michael would be part of rehearsals in the weeks leading up to the April performance. “I’m in the play.”
“Yeah.” A quiet laugh came from him. “You’re Belle. Everyone knows that.”
This was the most she’d talked to Michael Schwartz in the three years they’d shared at Fulton. He was a year younger, but she’d seen him arou
nd a lot —in the halls or at lunch. In a number of her classes. But she’d never talked to him like this until today. In some ways, her handicap was worse than Holden’s. What excuse did she have for not talking? For picking and choosing whom to speak with?
Ella hid her frustration with herself. “That’ll be fun. Rehearsing together next semester.” She wanted to find out more about Michael, where he went after school and who his friends were.
“Sure.” He looked away and then back at her, like he was ready to move on. “I guess.”
Ella’s heart sank. Michael didn’t believe her, not after three years of her pretending he didn’t exist. She wanted to ask him to stay for a few minutes, but, then, she couldn’t make up for the past all at once. She’d lived in the confines of her own shallow, mean-spirited crowd, unwilling to connect with kids outside her group.
But never again.
She stared at the ground for a moment, searching for the words. “Hey…”…” She held tight to the straps of her backpack, shame reducing her voice to half what it had been. “I’m sorry about the other day. The way Jake and those guys treated you.” She gave him an apologetic look. “They really are jerks.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, but his smile faded. “It’s okay. Guys like that always get what they want.” He started walking, his fingers gripped tightly around the handle of his flute case. “See you, Ella.”
She watched him go, not moving. “See ya, Michael.” It was the first time either of them had acknowledged that they knew each other’s names.
Ella started slowly toward her car, the sun on her shoulders. Michael was right. Guys like Jake always got what they wanted. They were practically heroes because they could throw a ball or catch a touchdown pass.
But maybe this was the year Holden and Michael would finally have their turn. Michael could play the flute for the orchestra and maybe Holden would be in the play somehow and all the school would come to watch. LaShante would help her get everyone excited about it. That was possible, right?
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