A Thousand Tomorrows / Just Beyond the Clouds

by Karen Kingsbury

  “Yes.” Tammy, the girl with the long braids, clapped her hands. “That’s a positive idea. Right, Teacher? A positive idea.”

  “It is.” Elle blinked back tears. If Cody Gunner were here she’d grab him by the collar and shake him. Then she’d tell him exactly how his careless words had hurt her students. But she couldn’t think about that now. Not with them looking for her to turn things around. “Tammy’s right. If we pray for someone who’s angry, then that’s a very positive idea.”

  Gus looked around and then dropped from his chair to his knees. He folded his hands together and bowed his head. Elle was about to tell him he could pray from his seat, when around the room the others followed his example. Before Elle could find the words, every one of her students was kneeling in the dining area at Subway, head bowed.

  “Dear God,” Gus began, “be with Carl Joseph’s angry brother. Anger is not a healthy choice. It’s not a healthy life skill.” He opened his eyes and smiled up at Elle. Then he closed them again. “So please be with Carl Joseph’s brother, because maybe bull riders are angry people. Make him happy, Jesus. Amen.”

  Around the room, more than a dozen amens came from the group. Only then did Elle notice a table of teenage kids at the back of the room. The prayer had caught their attention. But instead of laughing at the handicapped people down on their knees, the teens were doing something entirely different.

  They were smiling.

  And at the end of the prayer, a few teens even stood and walked over, patting the shoulders of the students. Finally they nodded at Elle, and she mouthed the words, “Thank you,” toward them. Then she sat down next to Daisy once more.

  Two steps backward, three steps forward. That’s the way it was with her students. The world was still getting used to the idea that people with Down Syndrome might be bagging their groceries or sweeping the floor at Wal-Mart. For every ignorant person like Cody Gunner, there was a group of people who understood, kids who had probably attended school with disabled students—because things were different today than they’d been a decade ago.

  Elle was too choked up to take another bite of her sandwich. She sipped her water instead and watched as the cloud lifted and her students began interacting again. She could tell them later that it was probably best not to kneel in a public restaurant, that praying could be done in a chair as well as on their knees.

  Or maybe not. Maybe if people had the chance to see an entire Subway dining room filled with people on their knees every once in a while, the whole world would be a little better off.

  Chapter Six

  Cody didn’t say a word until they were a mile away from the Subway. He’d been wrong to storm in and demand that Carl Joseph leave right in the middle of his field trip. But why had no one explained the situation to him before? Here he’d thought Carl Joseph was involved in some kind of daycare program, a way to give him social interaction…

  But a center for independent living?

  Cody’s knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel. The entire truck reeked of Carl Joseph’s cologne, the smell a pungent reminder of everything Cody hadn’t understood until today. It had all come together that morning. He’d gotten a late start, and when he walked into his parents’ house, he’d found his mother instead of Carl Joseph.

  “Where’s Buddy?” He grabbed an apple and peered into the living room. “I wanted to take him out today.”

  His mother was sitting at the dining room table writing a letter. “He had to be at the center early.”

  “The center?” He took a bite of the apple. “You mean the club, the social place?”

  “Yes, Cody.” His mother looked up. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she’d been crying. Her eyes looked weary, and there were circles beneath them. “He had a field trip today.”

  “What?” Fear took a stab at Cody. He walked closer to his mother. “Who’s chaperoning?”

  “The teacher’s in charge. Her name’s Elle Dalton. She has eighteen students like Carl Joseph. Friday is Field Trip Day.”

  “One teacher?” Panic welled up inside him. “You let Carl Joseph go on a field trip with just one able-bodied person? Are you kidding?” He paced to the other end of the dining room and then back again. “Where’d they go?”

  “To Antlers Park and to Subway.” She set her pen down. “Relax, Cody. Your brother’s been going on field trips every Friday for three months.” His mother explained that Carl Joseph had been to shopping malls and a skating rink and the zoo. “He’ll be fine.”

  “No, he won’t.” Cody tried to picture Carl Joseph crossing a city street. “Buddy gets confused. He has epilepsy. You know that. He could wander off and get lost, have a seizure, and then what? He doesn’t even know his own phone number.”

  “He does now.”

  The conversation had gone in circles, but in the end he made his decision. He and Carl Joseph needed a day to themselves. They’d talked about it when he first got home from the circuit. Cody had even mentioned that Friday might work. And today was Friday—field trip or not.

  Cody took a left turn now and eased off the gas. Cody had read something in an issue of USA Today at a hotel in Montana earlier that year—how there was a push among educators to help adults with Down Syndrome and other disabilities find functioning independent lives outside their family homes.

  Cody had shuddered at the idea. Innocent, tender-hearted Carl Joseph out in the real world, being laughed at and mocked and getting lost in the rat race? He wouldn’t survive three days in that environment. And with his epilepsy, the idea was unthinkable. His mother even agreed that they were contemplating pulling him from the program. One of the quotations in the article said it all.

  “We must be careful,” a person who disagreed with the program was quoted as saying. “Sometimes in our rush to minimize disability, we unwittingly place a handicapped person in danger. The simple truth is that people with mental disabilities are not able to live on their own without great risk.”

  Cody agreed wholeheartedly. He had asked his mother why Carl Joseph was still taking part in field trips when he could have a seizure at any moment.

  “Elle will take care of him,” she’d said. “Elle knows what to do.”

  But now he’d seen Elle. She couldn’t stay at Carl Joseph’s side, and even if she did she wouldn’t be strong enough to catch him if he fell. One seizure and he could crack his head open.

  “Brother?” Carl Joseph turned to him.

  “What, Buddy?” Cody glanced over.

  Carl Joseph, the one who never got mad at anyone, had been quiet since they left the Subway. Now he looked hurt. “You weren’t very nice to my friends.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So then”—he licked his lips—“why, Brother? Why weren’t you nice?”

  “I was afraid.” Cody pulled up at a stoplight and looked at Carl Joseph. “I don’t like you out on the streets, Buddy. You could walk into traffic or wander off. You could have one of your spells. Do you understand?”

  Carl Joseph looked straight ahead. “Green, Brother. Green means go. Red means stop. White walk sign means walk.”

  Cody stared at his brother, and only after someone behind them honked did he finally press his foot to the accelerator. “Where did you learn that?”

  “From Teacher.”

  They didn’t talk again until they reached the parking lot of the old YMCA. Rumor around town was that the owner wanted to sell it. The city had passed on buying it, so now the place was open to anyone with the money to take it over. Cody parked his truck and turned to Carl Joseph. “Tell me about the center, Buddy.”

  Carl Joseph took a long breath. He twisted his fingers together, the way he did when he was nervous. “It’s for independent living.”

  “You said that earlier.” Cody was careful to make his tone kind. He reached out and took one of his brother’s hands. None of this was Carl Joseph’s fault. “Don’t be nervous. I’m not mad.”

  “You
seemed mad.” He licked his lips again. “At Daisy and Gus and Teacher and Sid and Tammy and—”

  “I’m not mad, Buddy. Just please… tell me about the center. Why… why do you need to go on field trips?”

  “Because, see…” Carl Joseph looked out the window and then back at Cody. “Field trips get us closer to Goal Day.”

  “Goal Day?” Cody could feel his heart sinking inside him. There would be no goal day for a person as sick as Carl Joseph. “Tell me about it.”

  “Goal Day is when students move out and live on their own.” Perspiration appeared on Carl Joseph’s forehead. “All on their own. Independent living.”

  Cody felt sick to his stomach. So it was exactly what he’d feared. This Elle Dalton was running a program that had somehow taught Carl Joseph to believe something impossible for his future. “Is that what you want?” The blood drained from Cody’s face. “To live away from Mom and Dad, out here in the world all by yourself? Even with these spells you’ve been having?”

  “Uh…” Carl Joseph began to rock. He looked at his feet and then held his hand up and examined it. “Yes. Buddy wants that.”

  For a moment Cody wasn’t sure what to say. He’d already upset his brother. He had to undo this flawed way of thinking, the ridiculous and dangerous notions Carl Joseph had been taught at the center. But he had to do it in a way that didn’t hurt his brother. Finally he squeezed Carl Joseph’s hand. “Okay, Buddy. I understand.” He hesitated. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Later.” Carl Joseph nodded. He still looked uncertain, but he turned his eyes to Cody and smiled. “Goal Day can come later.”

  “Right.” Cody’s head was spinning. He wanted to get home as fast as possible and find his parents, confront them about how—since getting his recent diagnosis—they could possibly have allowed Carl Joseph to continue this way of thinking. He released his brother’s hand, climbed out of the car, and went to Carl Joseph’s side.

  But before he got there, his brother climbed out and turned curious eyes in his direction. “Do you have your keys?”

  “Yes.” He held them up. What was this? Carl Joseph had never even comprehended the idea of keys before. When they went out on the town, Cody would open and close the door for him, helping him to the pavement and back into the car.

  “Good.” Carl Joseph pushed the lock button on his door and shut it. “You have to check first. Keys get locked in sometimes.”

  Cody was stunned. How much had his brother learned? Already more than Cody would’ve thought possible. They started to walk toward the building, and Cody focused on the reason they were here. “I’m thinking about buying this place.”

  “Really?” Carl Joseph was still trembling, still upset. But he was clearly trying to move past the earlier incident, same as Cody. “Why, Brother?”

  “It’s a gym.” Cody kept his pace even with Carl Joseph’s. “I thought maybe I could turn it into an exercise facility for people like you and… and your friends.”

  “You think we need exercise?” Carl Joseph stopped. His eyes lit up. “Teacher thinks that, too. She makes us dance and do sit-ups and stretches.”

  Cody felt his anger rise again. The woman was taking over every area of his brother’s life. And what good was coming from her exercise program? Carl Joseph was no more fit than he’d been last time Cody was home. His heart was no stronger. “Well.” He kept his voice upbeat. “I think maybe you could use a little more exercise than that. A regular exercise program.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yeah, and maybe you’ll like this place better than the center.” He made a funny face at Carl Joseph. “Might make you big and strong.”

  “Like a bull rider?”

  “Right. Exactly.”

  “Oh, goodie.” They went inside and Cody met the owner at the front desk. “I called about the facility here. I’m interested in purchasing it.”

  “Yes.” The man shook his hand. “Thanks for coming.” He hesitated. “But I’m afraid the other owner and I haven’t decided whether or not we’re going to sell.”

  Cody was about to ask how much longer before the owners might know more, when he heard someone laughing. He turned and saw Carl Joseph standing at a butterfly press machine, but instead of using it correctly, he was doing squats over the bench. A couple of scrawny guys in their thirties—long hair and pierced ears—had stopped to watch. One of them was pointing at Carl Joseph. “What’s this—comic relief?”

  “Yeah, since when do they let retards in?”

  By the time Cody reached his side, Carl Joseph had brought his hands up and covered his face. Cody shoved the first guy he reached. “Leave him alone.”

  The guy had a beard and a mean face. He pushed Cody in return. “What’s it to you?”

  “That’s my brother.” Cody grabbed the guy’s sweaty T-shirt. This time he pushed him hard enough that the guy fell to the floor.

  At that point, the owner stepped up. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He took hold of Cody’s arm. “The club is for members only.”

  “Club?” Cody jerked his arm free. “Place is a dive.” He snarled at the bearded man, still scrambling up from the floor. “Bunch of lowlifes.” He glared at the owner. “No wonder you’re going bankrupt.”

  The two men started to go after Cody, but the owner held them back. Cody led Carl Joseph out the door and back to the car. This time he didn’t bother opening his brother’s door. As soon as they were inside, Cody let his head fall against the steering wheel. What was happening? Nothing was going the way he planned it.

  “Brother?” Carl Joseph touched his arm. “I think I like the center better.”

  Cody lifted his head. “I’ll bet you do.” He straightened and turned toward his brother. “I’m sorry about that. Those guys…” He swallowed his anger so Carl Joseph wouldn’t think it was directed at him. “Those guys have a problem, Buddy. I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe they don’t have life skills.” Carl Joseph reached back and grabbed his seatbelt. He buckled it as if he’d done so a hundred times before. “Life skills help.”

  “Yes.” Cody started the engine. Who would stand up for Buddy the next time some ignorant jerk laughed at him? Who would come along and take his hands down from his face and help him past the situation? He reached over and patted his brother’s knee. “Let’s get home, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  As they drove, Cody asked more questions about the center. “How does a student get ready for Goal Day? Can you tell me?”

  Carl Joseph seemed less upset than before, but he was still nervous. As if he could sense that Cody’s questions were being asked not merely out of mild interest but because Cody disapproved. “You have to know the bus routes.”

  “How to get on a bus, you mean?”

  “No.” Carl Joseph brought his hands together and began twisting them again. “You have to know that Route Number Eight goes to the Citadel Mall and that Route Ten goes downtown.”

  Again the shock was so great, Cody could barely concentrate on the road. “You know the bus routes?”

  “Not…” Carl Joseph looked up at the ceiling and for a long moment he moved his fingers against his hand like he was counting. “Not Bus Route Number Twenty-three or Twenty-five. Not Number Thirty-seven. Not Forty-one either.”

  “But you know the rest?”

  “Not like Daisy knows them.” He gave a weak smile. “Remember Daisy, Brother? She was at the Subway.”

  “Yes. She was nice.” Cody clenched his fist. He’d been awful earlier. “I should’ve stayed and talked to her.”

  “Yes.” Carl Joseph stopped twisting his hands. “She had a pretty shirt. You should’ve said she had a pretty shirt.”

  “Right.” Cody stared at the road ahead. “Was the field trip fun? Before I came?”

  “Yes. Gus wanted to ride a train.”

  “Through the park? I don’t think there’s a train that goes through Antlers Park.”

  “There isn’t.” Car
l Joseph laughed. It wasn’t as loud and carefree as usual, but at least it was a start, proof that he would recover from the events of the day—events that Cody knew he was completely responsible for.

  Cody played along. “Okay, so why did Gus want to ride a train?”

  “Because of the landmark at the middle of the park. Old Engine 168.”

  Carl Joseph was right. There was an old railroad car at the center of the park—something donated to the city ages ago. Cody looked at his brother, disbelieving. In all his life, he’d never had a conversation like this one with Carl Joseph. “Did someone explain that to Gus?”

  “Yes.” Carl Joseph rocked forward and laughed a little louder than before. “Sid told him, ‘Look, no tracks.’ And Teacher said, ‘Read the sign.’ ”

  This time Cody nearly hit the brakes. “You can read?”

  “Not yet.” Shame crept into his tone. “I’m learning my ABCs. Daisy’s helping me.”

  “Daisy can read?”

  “Daisy’s a super-duper reader, Brother. She can read signs and bottles and recipes and Adventures of Tom Sawyer.”

  The idea was entirely new to Cody. A person with Down Syndrome could learn to read? That wasn’t what the teachers had told their mother back when Carl Joseph was in grade school. But since then… Cody wasn’t sure. Was he that out of touch?

  It all came together. Carl Joseph wasn’t involved in the center by his own choosing. Someone had to have found the place and convinced him that independent living was a good idea.

  And that person could only have been his father.

  The truth brought with it a host of familiar feelings—anger and resentment toward the man. Cody had hated his father most of his life. Ali had brought them together after a lifetime of being apart. Ali, who thought family was too important to hold grudges and harbor hatred. But that didn’t mean Cody had forgotten.

  Cody was seven and Carl Joseph two when their father climbed into a yellow taxicab and drove off—all because he wasn’t willing to raise a son with Down Syndrome. Cody spent the next decade living with the growing understanding that something was different about his little brother. His father had been mean and unfeeling to reject a boy like Carl Joseph. Cody’s entire bull-riding career was driven by the rage inside him, a rage that took root that day when his father’s cab pulled away. Yes, Ali had brought healing between the two of them. His dad was back, and his parents were happy together. But maybe his father was still embarrassed by Carl Joseph. Why else would Buddy be attending an independent-living center even with a diagnosis of epilepsy?