Such things happen sometimes…
Young George was dearly wished for by his parents. Yet the pregnancy was fraught with complications, and the child came into the world too soon. He lay in an incubator, tiny and fragile, his organs not yet fully formed. The doctors put him on a ventilator, performed two surgeries, and later, his retinas detached. Twice, his family was allowed to say their goodbyes, but George clung to life.
It was soon apparent, however, that George could hardly see or hear. Physically, he slowly improvedlearned to sit, to hold a toy, later managed to walk while clutching onto furniture. But his mind remained locked away.
At first, his parents held onto hope. Together, they tried everything. In time, Georges father quietly faded from their daily lives, and his mother, Julia, soldiered on alone. She managed to secure government funding, and at three and a half, George was fitted with implants to restore some of his hearing. Now he could hear, it seemed, but still, his development would not come. Specialists in speech, learning, and psychology took turns trying to reach him. Julia brought George to see me many times.
I would suggest, Lets try this, or perhaps that and Julia threw herself into every new idea. Yet George largely sat quietly in his playpen, turning objects in his hands, banging them on the floor, biting his wrist or whatever else he could reach. At times, he would drone on a single pitch; other times, let out oddly modulated howls. Julia insisted he recognised her, calling to her with a strange, guttural purr and showing delight when she scratched his back or feet.
At length, an elderly psychiatrist told her, What diagnosis do you seek? Hes a walking vegetable, my dear. Accept it and move on. Either put him into a home, or carry on as you haveyoure quite adept now, arent you? Theres no sense in expecting a dazzling recovery or in burying yourself beside his playpen. At least, thats my honest opinion. He was the only person in Julias life who spoke with such certainty. She put George in a special nursery and went back to work.
Not long after, Julia bought a motorbikesomething she had always wanted. She began riding through the city streets and out into the countryside with new friends. When the engine roared beneath her, her worries faded away. Georges father paid child support, and Julia spent it entirely on weekend carersGeorge was not so difficult really, if you grew used to his howls.
One of the three companions, a biker named Stan, confessed to Julia one day, You know, Ive really fallen for youtheres something fascinating and tragic about you. Come, let me show you something, Julia replied. Stan grinned, thinking shed invited him home, but Julia simply brought him to meet George. The boy, lively just then, was wailing in his strange, modulating wayperhaps hed recognised Julia, or perhaps the stranger unsettled him.
Blimey, would you look at that! Stan exclaimed.
What were you expecting? Julia answered.
After a time, their rides turned into living together. Stan kept his distance from George, as they’d agreed, and Julia preferred it that way.
Later, Stan proposed having a child of their own. Julia replied sharply, What if it turns out like George? Would you still want it? Stan went silent for a year, then asked again. This time, their luck turneda baby boy, Peter, was born strong and healthy. Stan suggested, Now that weve a proper son, perhaps we could place George in an institution? Julia retorted, Id sooner place you in one. Stan quickly backtracked, Only asking…
Peter discovered George when he was about nine months old and crawling. He was immediately taken with him. Stan, for his part, fussed and scolded: Dont let the lad near himits not safe, who knows what might happen. But Stan was always either at work or out riding, and Juliashe let Peter explore. When Peter was near, George did not howl, and Julia fancied he watched and listened, as if waiting for his brother. Peter would bring George toys, demonstrate how to play, and gently folded Georges fingers around them.
One weekend, when Stan took ill and stayed at home, he saw Peter toddling through the flat, babbling invitingly, while George, whod previously barely left his corner, followed as if tethered. Stan threw a fit and demanded, Keep my lad away from your idiot, or keep them under constant watch! Julia simply pointed to the door.
He was frightened, and after some time they reconciled. Julia confided in me, Hes a bit thick, but I love him. Dreadful, isnt it?
Thats only natural, I said. To love your own, regardless…
I meant Stan, actually, Julia clarified. But tell me, is George a danger to Peter?
I assured her, by all signs, Peter led the pair, but supervision was always prudent. So they agreed.
By eighteen months, Peter had taught George to stack their toy rings by size. He himself was forming sentences, singing little tunes, and charming everyone with childrens rhymes. Is he a child prodigy? Julia asked, on Stans orders. Stan might burst with pride, as his friends toddlers still hadnt uttered mummy or daddy.
I suspect its down to George, I posited. Not every child at that age gets to pull anothers development along.
Exactly! Julia rejoiced. Thats how Ill put it to that log-with-eyes.
Quite the family, I thoughtwalking vegetable, log with eyes, motorbike mama, and a tiny prodigy.
After Peter was potty trained, he spent six months teaching his brother the same. Learning to eat, drink from a cup, dress and undressJulia assigned Peter to guide George along. By three and a half, Peter asked flat out, So whats wrong with George, then?
Well, for starters, he cant see, Julia said.
He can, Peter argued. Just not well. He can see this, but not that, and it depends on the light. The best is where the bathroom lamp shines over the mirrorthere, he sees plenty.
The ophthalmologist was taken aback to have a three-year-old explaining Georges vision, but listened carefully, ordered further tests, and prescribed new treatment and special glasses.
Preschool proved a disaster for Peter. He should be in school as it is! Hes too clever by halfalways correcting everyone, the exasperated nursery teacher declared.
I strongly advised against an early start at schoolbetter Peter spend his days in clubs and with George, helping him along. Stan, to my surprise, agreed and said to Julia, Stay home with them until schoolwhats he to do in that daft nursery? Besides, have you noticed George hasnt howled in a year?
Half a year on, George spoke: Mum, dad, Peter, give, drink, meow-meow. The boys entered school at the same time. Peter fretted: how will George manage without me? Are the specialists there any good? Will they understand him at all? Even now, in his fifth year, Peter does his schoolwork first with George, and only then his own.
George speaks in simple sentences. He can read, use a computer, loves cooking or tidying up (with Peter or mum directing him), enjoys sitting on the front bench, listening, and breathing in the air. He knows all the neighbours and always greets them. His favourite pastime is making things with clay or building and taking apart toys.
But more than anything else, he loves when the whole family takes to the open roads on their motorbikeshe rides behind Julia, Peter rides with Stan, and together they bellow their voices into the rolling wind.
