The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [50]
“Thanks for showing me your airplane. Do you want it back?”
“You can hold it,” Kyle said again.
Taylor debated for a moment before deciding. “Okay, this’ll be my good-luck charm. I’ll bring it right back.” He made sure that Kyle could see him put it in his pocket, and Kyle rolled his hands together.
“Is that all right?” Taylor asked.
Kyle didn’t answer, but he seemed to be fine with it.
Taylor waited to make sure, then finally jogged home. Denise nodded in Kyle’s direction. Both she and Judy had seen what just transpired.
“I think Kyle likes Taylor,” Denise said.
“I think,” Judy answered, “the feeling’s mutual.”
On the second pitch, Taylor smashed the ball into right field—he batted left-handed—and took off at a full clip toward first base while two others in scoring position made their way around the bags. The ball hit the ground and bounced three times before the fielder could reach it, and he was off balance when he threw the ball. Taylor rounded second, charging hard, considering whether to try for home. But his better judgment won out in the end, and the ball reached the infield just as Taylor arrived safely at third. Two runs had scored, the game was tied, and Taylor scored when the next person batted. On his way to the dugout, he handed Kyle the airplane, a big grin on his face.
“I told you it would make me lucky, little man. That’s a good airplane.”
“Yes, the airplane is good.” (Yes, ee owpwane ess goo)
It would have been the perfect way to end the game, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. In the bottom of the seventh, the Enforcers scored the winning run when Carl Huddle knocked one out of the park.
After the game was over, Denise and Judy made their way down from the bleachers with the rest of the crowd, ready to head over to the park where food and beer were waiting. Judy pointed out where they’d be sitting.
“I’m already late,” Judy explained. “I was supposed to be helping set up. Can I meet you over there?”
“Go ahead—I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. I have to get Kyle first.”
Kyle was still standing near the fence, watching Taylor gather his gear in the dugout, when Denise approached him. He didn’t turn, even after Denise had called his name, and she had to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention.
“Kyle, c’mon, let’s go,” Denise said.
“No,” he answered with a shake of his head.
“The game’s over.”
Kyle looked up at her, a concerned expression on his face.
“No, he’s not.” (No, eez not)
“Kyle, would you rather go play?”
“He’s not,” he said again, frowning now, his tone dropping an octave. Denise knew exactly what that meant—it was one of the ways he showed frustration at his inability to communicate. It was also the first step toward what often led to a genuine, knock-down, drag-out screamfest. And boy oh boy, could Kyle scream.
Of course, all children threw tantrums now and then, and Denise didn’t expect Kyle to be perfect. But for Kyle, tantrums sometimes arose because he couldn’t get his point across well enough to be understood. He’d get mad at Denise for not understanding, Denise would get angry because he couldn’t say what he meant, and the whole thing would spiral downward from there.
Even worse, though, were the feelings that those incidents triggered. Whenever it happened, it always reminded Denise point-blank that her son still had a serious problem, and despite the fact she knew it wasn’t his fault, despite the fact she knew it was wrong, if the tantrum went on long enough, she sometimes found herself screaming at her son in the same irrational way he was screaming at her. How hard is it to just run a few simple words together? Why can’t you do that? Why can’t you be like every other kid? Why can’t you be normal, for God’s sake?
Afterward, once things had calmed down, she’d feel terrible. How on earth, if she loved him so much, could she say those things to him? How could she even think them? Never able to sleep afterward, she would stare at the ceiling for hours, honestly believing herself to be the most mean-spirited mother on the planet.
More than anything,