All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at:
pjalexander1753@gmail.com
PJ
D'n'M Part 6a
From Chapter 8:
And that's why Dan was wandering the apartment in the early hours and how he came to find Nico on the floor of his room, curled up under the bottom bunk, fitfully asleep and murmuring words that were too quiet for Dan to make out.
"Shit!" he said to himself. "That's all I need -- first M and now the boy. How do I deal with the both of them?"
Chapter 9:
After that first, uncomfortable and confusing day a new pattern of living began to develop, and over the following weeks an unfamiliar and often uncomfortable dynamic established itself in the strange-to-everyone-involved household of Dan, Milo and Nico. There was a lot to get used to for everyone, including some additions, such as Mrs. Bolton, the tutor that Gerry had managed to find at very short notice, and others, like Milo's boss, Shania Margelles, who began to play a bigger and more hands-on role in the process of integrating Nico into the family.
Mrs. Bolton had recently retired from nearly thirty years at Ashfield Middle School where she had taught both Milo and Dan as twelve year-olds. ("I remember them as such sweet boys, you know.") Tragically, just weeks after she'd cleared her classroom and emptied her locker for the very last time, her husband suffered a massive aneurism and died whilst mowing the lawn of their neat little house on the western edge of town. ("He was a good deal older than me you know.") As Mrs. Bolton explained, for years they'd been making plans and saving for a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Caribbean and then to West Africa in the hope of learning more about their shared history and ancestral roots. ("Just like that TV programme, you must have seen it - Who Do You Think You Are', you know"). Suddenly, finding herself with more unoccupied time on her hands than she knew what to do with and having abandoned all plans for the trip ("I just hadn't the heart for it after poor Leon passed, you know"), she was more than happy to answer the ad. that Gerry had placed on a local on-line forum ("I may be old but you can't spend hours every day with children these days without getting to know your way around social media, you know"), and Gerry had been more than happy to give her the job on the spot. He well remembered her from all those years ago as a teacher who was warm but demanding of the children in her class and one that both M and D had always responded to very positively. When Gerry first announced Mrs. Bolton's appointment, with a wide I'm-very-please-with-myself-for-finding-someone-so-quickly' smile on his face, Helen wasn't entirely convinced by his choice of a middle school teacher for Nico who, unless Gerry had forgotten, was of high-school age. But Gerry hadn't been friends with her for more than a quarter of a century without learning a thing or two, and had his answer well-prepared.
"Okay, so, yeah, Nico is a high-schooler, but he's missed so much of his education. He needs someone who can help fill in the gaps but without treating him like a little kid. A middle school teacher will be perfect."
"Hmm, you may well be right." Helen had to reluctantly agree. "It's obvious that he's already pissed off enough. Being made to feel small would only make an unhappy situation even worse." There was a pause. "Good call, Ger."
Gerry's smile got even wider and Mrs. Bolton (no-one could bring themselves to call her Betty like she repeatedly asked) became a regular, if temporary, addition, visiting the apartment for three hours every weekday, Monday to Friday. As far as anyone could tell the sessions went well. Helen, Roger and Gerry (mostly Gerry) who'd labelled themselves the Nico Minders (though not if they thought he was in hearing distance), took it in turns to be on site during the day while Dan and Milo were out at work, and they clearly heard two voices coming from behind the closed door of Nico's bedroom. Mrs. Bolton's regular written reports also expressed her delight at his progress, suggesting that it might only be a few weeks, two or three months at most, before Nico would be ready to transition to Greenside High. In Dan's view that happy day couldn't come too soon. He was struggling to adjust to all the disruption (his word) that Nico's arrival had created and hoped regular schooling would bring with it a very welcome degree of normality. However, Mrs. Bolton made it clear that Nico would continue to need additional educational support once he started at Greenside High ("I'll most certainly be available, you know) but she was definitely of the view that he was a bright boy, keen to learn and in need of social interaction with his peers. ("In my professional opinion, you know.")
But across town, at Margelles and Associates, Nico's willingness to break his self-imposed silence was not repeated. Two afternoons each week Gerry drove his grandson across town for an hour with Shania Margelles herself. Obviously, there was no way that Milo could take on professional responsibility for his own nephew's therapy and he had been both relieved and surprised when his boss offered to add Nico to her limited client list when he'd spoken to her on the phone from Buenos Aires. Dan knew from his own painful experience with Mr. Roberts all about the devastating impact of being abused as a teenager, and also about just how good Shania Margelles was at helping young people to begin the process of repairing the damage it inevitably causes. He had no difficulty at all in bringing to mind his sessions with her, including the frequent changes of the pictures on her office walls and to the colour of her hair. "There's no-one better, I promise you," he had assured Milo, whilst feeling a familiar tightening up of his insides as memories of that awful time suddenly barged their way to the front of his mind yet again.
Whether Shania really was the best, they had no chance to find out. Nico put up no resistance to being driven by Gerry to his twice-weekly therapy sessions. In fact, over the course of a few weeks, he seemed to become fairly comfortable in his grandfather's company and sometimes almost happy. True, he never spoke on the journeys to and from the office but he appeared more comfortable with Gerry than with any other member of the group, apart from Mrs. Bolton. However, as soon as they arrived at the door of Margelles and Associates, Nico's habitual body language -- tense and closed down - would assert itself. Shania told Milo and Dan that this didn't change at any point in any of their hour-long sessions.
"What, not at all? Not ever?" Dan asked. "Not even a little bit?"
"No, his body language never changes. He's as tight as a wound-up spring from start to finish, and his face takes on a completely blank expression."
"Shit, that's bad. But things will get better, yeah?" The desperation in Milo's voice was unmissable. He knew that blank look on Nico's face only too well. "Cases like this often need a lot of time before the kid starts to trust the therapist, and like D says, you're the best."
"Hm. I don't know about that. Though there is something that I'm hoping is a good sign."
"Yeah? What's that?" asked Dan.
"He does, very occasionally, answer one of my questions."
"But that's great," Milo responded, a sudden note of optimism creeping in.
"Well, I'm not so sure."
"Huh?" This was Dan.
"His answer is always in Spanish, and I know that he knows that I don't understand or speak Spanish very well. Pretty ironic, eh, given my heritage. He speaks way too quickly and with a heavy accent for me to get much, if any, of a handle on what he says."
"So why's he doing that?" From his experience with very damaged children, Milo suspected that this behaviour wasn't accidental. "Do you think it might be a deliberate wind-up?" he asked.
"Could be. For all I know he's secretly pouring out his heart to me and getting all sorts of emotional and psychological benefit from the simple act of being able to tell someone about all the bad stuff that's happened to him, in whatever language. Equally possible is that he's calling me every bad name under the sun and giving me the verbal finger, but I've got no way of knowing which it is."
"So, he speaks to Mrs. Bolton in English, you in Spanish..."
"Sometimes."
"Yeah, sometimes. And me and you, M, not at all. Or my parents. Or your dad."
Dan turned to Shania. "So what next? Have you got a therapist who speaks Spanish? Maybe Nico would talk to them." Dan, typically, was desperately trying to come up with a solution rather than simply dwelling on the problem.
"When I suggested that," replied Shania, "Not only did he clam up again but he also turned his back on me. I got the message."
"Aaargh!" growled Dan. "This is so fucked up. What's he playing at? What's he trying to achieve?"
Ever since his conversation with Tom, Dan had managed to give the appearance of being fully on board with the whole `Nico situation' but his frustration with the prospect of everything blowing up in their faces was never far below the surface. Now it was in danger of breaking through his carefully-constructed veneer of unquestioning support.
Unbeknown to her, Shania, came to the rescue before it could erupt.
"I'm not sure he's actually trying to achieve anything, at least, not consciously or deliberately. Remember what he's come through, what he's had to do to survive. What you know of Nico's life up to now would be barely believable even in some tedious tale on one of those crappy on-line story sites. You probably don't know the half of what that boy has had to endure and is having to deal with every day. Playing us all off against each other by speaking to some people and not others, well, that could easily be a way of maintaining some kind of control. It might seem fucked-up to you, Dan, and I can't pretend to understand it myself, but the one thing I do know is that the impact of the trauma that Nico has experienced has formed a knot inside him that's going to take a very long time to even loosen, much less untie. You're in it for the long haul, guys. I hope you appreciate that."
"We know that," said Milo, "And we definitely know how hard it already is and is gonna be. But he's family, Shania, and we're all he's got. So however long the haul is, we're gonna be there for Nico every step of the way. That's right, isn't it D?"
Dan could only nod his head, not very convincingly it seemed to Shania. Milo either didn't see, or chose to ignore D's barely-disguised lack of enthusiasm, maybe because he was beginning to believe that his initial conviction that it was the right thing to do, giving a home to Kate's boy, wasn't quite as 100% rock solid as it had been at the start. Shania couldn't help wondering if Milo was making a big mistake by deliberately choosing not to question D's level of commitment. Well, time would tell, but looking every which way to avoid catching sight of the elephant in the room wasn't going to make it disappear. She knew that from her years as a professional therapist. What she didn't know was that Dan was beginning to build up dangerous levels of resentment towards Nico and the havoc (his word, again) that he had brought with him. And not just towards Nico. In Dan's head M deserved equal, if not more, blame because it was M's stubborn refusal to see any course of action other than accepting his sister's dying wish to take in the boy that had resulted in the current, increasingly unbearable, situation. Dan wasn't sure how much more of it he could take, especially with Milo's continuing emotional distance and also because the therapy sessions with Shania weren't turning out to be the key to unlocking Nico's trauma that they'd all been hoping for. As things stood it was only Mrs. Bolton's confident prediction about Nico being able to start at `proper' school that was keeping Dan from telling M just exactly what he was really thinking and feeling. What he didn't know was that, had he been able to look inside Milo's head, he would have seen some of the same anxieties and frustrations mirrored there. Ironic or what?
Hamza Rashid, the replacement social worker, was another of the temporary additions to the de Beer-Reed family. He made several visits over those first few weeks after Nico's arrival. As far as Dan and Milo were concerned he started with one big advantage in that he wasn't Ms. Veronica Lamar, and that meant that he'd got both `nearly-dads', as he called them, on his side right from the outset. Not that he didn't have to lay down some markers, just so that everyone knew where they stood in terms of his work with the family. He told them all, including Nico, that his job was to prepare a report for Social Services, just like his predecessor had started to do. In that respect, he explained, his task was exactly the same.
"It's my job to make an assessment about the suitability of this as a long-term home for Nico and to make a recommendation regarding the question of his care and guardianship until he reaches the age of 18."
"Yeah, but we're paying for this report so you're gonna say it's all good. Isn't that right?" Gerry's business-focused mind-set had clearly decided what the outcome of Hamza's final report would be. As far as he was concerned, money talks.
"Dad! You can't be saying stuff like that."
"Why not, son? He's on our side. Isn't that's right Hamza?"
"Mr. de Beer ..."
"Gerry."
"Gerry. As you rightly say, you are paying for my professional services, but they are exactly that -- professional services. Key to my role is my independence which means that I am on no-one's side, not even Nico's, even though my number one consideration is for his well-being and long-term future. I have to remain neutral and objective."
Hamza could not have made himself any clearer but it looked as if Gerry still had a thing or two that he'd like to say, but before he got the chance to even open his mouth Helen spoke.
"Yes, I'm sure we all understand that, but thank you, Hamza, for making it so clear. I think I speak for everyone when I say you can rely on full co-operation." Here she paused and looked directly at Gerry. "From all of us."
Gerry felt the full force of Helen's gaze and looked down at his feet. He nodded.
Hamza's visits were usually arranged in advance (but not always) and invariably included, as a minimum, a confidential conversation with Nico (no-one even knew whether or not the boy actually spoke during their time together) and another with one of the adults involved in his care. Also often included were questions about the living arrangements, bedtimes, diet, screen time to name just a few. Hamza often enquired into the amount of time The Minders spent with Nico and what were their opinions of how he was settling in. What seemed to be a constant focus of Hamza's questions was the state of Dan and Milo's relationship, of how they imagined their future as a couple and what sort of impact they thought becoming legal guardians to an abused and traumatised teenage boy would have on it.
Inevitably there came the time when Dan's own experience of abuse was the focus of Hamza's questioning. It was something that the whole family tried to avoid, saying that it was all in the past and could have no bearing on Nico's future with them. But Hamza was adamant that no aspect of Dan's, or Milo's, history could be ignored. Helen was appalled that her boy should be expected to relive his traumatic past, but when it became obvious that Hamza wasn't going to change his mind, she rang Shania Margelles. As a result of that call, and another made by Shania herself to Hamza's superior, in place of a face-to-face interview, Dan was sent a list of questions which he was then allowed to answer in writing. He still found it incredibly stressful and for days afterwards he was touchy and distant from everyone, but reliving this part of his life did have one very significant outcome.
Fuuck!' he thought, as he typed the last letter at the end of the last word of the answer to the last question. Fuuck! I was only ever abused by Roberts, and he didn't even lay a finger on me. But I was still totally screwed up for months.' He had to take a pause and look away from the screen and what he'd written there. I could even have killed myself. I certainly thought about it. Probably would have done without M and mum and dad being there for me.' He remembered how he'd refused to leave his bedroom, even after he'd trashed it, about how he'd not been able to so much as think about playing soccer ever since, even though he'd loved it so much back then, and about how M had remained the truest, the most loving friend, all through the whole, fucked-up time. But Nico,' he thought, According to Kate's letter, he's had it so, so much worse. How has that boy even survived? His head must be so messed with. Poor kid. Poor kid.' Dan realised he was crying as he pressed the key to send his answers. Poor kid.'
So, there was nothing that Hamza didn't want to know about, nothing that was off-limits, no aspect of their lives that was too small or trivial to be questioned and recorded. Milo was always on tenterhooks for several days in advance of each of these pre-planned visits, with the tension in the apartment ramping up to almost unbearable levels. During those days, if he wasn't at work, he'd set off on long cycle rides around the town, always alone, trying to take his mind off the approaching visit. It didn't work, of course, because his mind was determined not to be ignored, with one half of it intent on convincing him that something would be said or seen or heard to persuade Hamza that Nico should be immediately removed and taken to a children's home or foster placement and not be allowed any further contact with his birth family. All attempts by the other half to explain that Hamza was both experienced and fair-minded and to stop Milo from imagining every possible doomsday scenario had no effect at all so it simply gave up and stayed silent.
As the day of each of Hamza's visits approached, Dan watched M becoming increasing edgy and withdrawn. He knew, although M never actually told him, that he was taking off on his bike to try to escape from the tension and anxiety, and Dan even suggested that they could both go. Let's face it,' he almost said, We're not doing anything else together.' But Milo always brushed off D's offer, another item to add to his growing list of grievances and frustrations.
Thankfully, at least as far as everyone else was concerned, Hamza's unannounced visits were far less stressful, for the simple reason that they were exactly that, unannounced, so Milo couldn't get himself into a state about them in advance. The same couldn't be said of the aftermath though, which would always have Dan, his parents and Gerry creeping around for days afterwards as if on eggshells, in fear of triggering a `Milo Meltdown', as Roger named them.
Everyone assumed that Milo behaving like a cat-on-hot-tiles around each of Hamza's visits was down to his fear of something going wrong and scuppering, forever, the dream of Nico becoming a permanent and legitimate member of the family. But they were wrong, all of them. What no-one understood or even guessed, not Dan or Gerry or Helen or Roger, and certainly not Mrs. Bolton or Shania (who, from a professional perspective, at least, might have been expected to work it out), was that Milo was screwing himself up because of his increasing doubts about his ability to honour Kate's wish for him to take care of her son. He had begun to suspect that he had been way too keen to play the part of the hero, sweeping in to rescue Nico from a life of fear and pain and misery. He really, really didn't want to admit to himself that he was starting to feel that he had been too quick to dismiss the concerns of the rest of his family, especially D's. Yes, above everyone else, especially D. More and more often he found himself resenting Nico for the disruption he had brought with him and, almost worst of all, he was becoming more and more angry with the never-ending silent treatment which he interpreted as a deliberate and personal act of defiant hostility on Nico's part. He was convinced that Nico was doing it to cause Milo the maximum possible hurt. And it was working.
This growing resentment was eating him up, and Milo knew it, swallowing great lumps of his strength and determination to do right by Nico and, of course, by Kate. Many times in his psychotherapist role he had needed to carefully explain to the parents of his young clients that their kids were deliberately testing them, alienating them, pushing them away in a perverse and self-destructive attempt to prove that they were not loveable or were bad or were unacceptably damaged. Milo's professional self knew all this but, no matter how hard he tried, when it came to his own nephew, all that professional understanding and expertise vanished every time Nico looked at him with his dead eyes and unspeaking lips.
In her role as one of the three Nico Minders, Helen was a frequent visitor to the apartment. She was only too well aware of the boy's dead eyes, of Milo's frequent cycle rides and of Dan's new-found enthusiasm for lengthy site visits that might take him out of town for two or three days at a stretch. For more than a week now, she and the other Minders had been sharing their concerns about D and M and Nico, and Helen had finally decided that, "Enough's enough. Things can't go on like this. Something needs to be done." She set about doing it.
It was Wednesday, some four or five weeks after Nico's arrival, and Helen was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the fish and pasta bake she was planning to leave to be warmed through for dinner. Nico himself was in his room with the door closed and the sound of Penalty Shoot-out 3, his current favourite video game, clearly audible from inside. Mrs. Bolton was long gone and Milo, having arrived home early from work yet again, was out cycling around the neighbourhood. Dan was away on another distant site visit, having left the apartment almost before the sun was up that morning. It was that fact, more than anything, that had been the final clincher in her decision to act. It hadn't been unanimous, with Roger, in particular, advising against. But eventually they'd come up with a plan that they could all agree on, the plan that Helen was about to put into action.
I am grateful to my reader, Bruce, for pointing out that my attempts to improve the accuracy of the written Spanish in this story have not been very successful. I apologise for this and hope it has not spoiled anyone's enjoyment. Thank you, Bruce.
I really appreciate and enjoy the messages I get from readers and I'll be very happy to reply if you'd like to get in touch.
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