Three weeks with my brother - Nicholas Sparks [128]
In time, Micah glanced at me.
“So how’s Ryan doing these days?”
“He’s doing well. On his last report card, he got two Bs and the rest As.”
“And he’s in third grade?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he have more friends now?”
“He’s in a great class,” I said, “and he’s been with the same group since kindergarten. The kids in his class are used to him. And they like him. It’s nice. And it’s funny, too—if you ask the kids how Ryan’s doing, they all say that he’s the smartest kid in the classroom.”
“Does he play like other kids yet?”
“He’s getting better. Socially, he’s still a little behind, and he still has a little trouble with regular conversations. He’s fine if you talk to him about his interests, but he’s not too good at banter or small talk yet. I think part of it, though, is that he’s shy. I don’t know whether it’s because of his problem, or whether he would have been shy anyway. It’s one of those unanswered questions.”
“You guys have come a long way with him. It’s amazing how much better he is. Every time I see him, I notice how he’s improving all the time.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I know he’s come a long way, but to be honest, it’s sometimes hard to remember how bad he once was. We keep focusing on the future—you know, working on his conversations, his reading comprehension, things like that. It’s frustrating. You always have to figure out new ways to get through to him—it’s not like you can simply give him instructions.”
“He’s come a long way, Nick. What you and Cathy have done is amazing. I mean it.”
“Thanks,” I said again.
“Did you ever find out what was wrong with him?”
I shook my head. “No. We have some ideas, but we’ll never be certain. Cat thinks he just had CAPD—where he couldn’t understand sound—but I’m not so sure. I mean, I’ve read everything about that disorder, and if Ryan did have it, it was the worst case that I ever came across. I think it might have been part of the problem, but I think there was more to it. I think he was also autistic. But, like I said, I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure.” I took a long breath. “But we’ll keep working and he’ll keep getting better. In the end, I think he’ll be able to lead a normal life. I think he’ll go to college and get married and make mistakes like all of us. He’s close now. He’s not there yet, but he’s close. And we’re not going to give up on him. But sometimes . . .”
I hesitated. Micah looked at me.
“What?”
“Sometimes I wonder why we had a child like Ryan. There was so much going on already with mom, dad, and Dana. It was too much, you know. It was too hard. It’s like I didn’t have enough challenges, so God gave me one more.” I paused. “Do you know what I always tell Miles and Ryan?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I tell Ryan that God gave him a brother like Miles so that Ryan could learn that anything is possible and that he can be good at anything. And I tell Miles that God gave him Ryan so that Miles could learn patience and persistence and how to overcome challenges.”
Micah smiled. “That’s nice.”
I shrugged. It was a good lesson, but part of me always wished I wouldn’t have had to say it at all.
Micah put his hand on my shoulder. “I know why God gave Ryan to you and Cat.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Because he wanted to test my faith?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Because not all parents could have done what you two did. He gave you Ryan because he knew that you two were smart and strong enough to help him. Ryan might have been lost with someone else.”
For a long moment, we sat in silence. The snow flurries danced hypnotically, and began to coat the window ledges. I thought about Ryan, and his struggles, everything he’d been through. Yes, he was better because of the work Cat and I had done. And yes, I was confident about his future. But all at once, despite those thoughts, I felt a lump in my throat, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure where it came from.
Our evening at the lodge ended relatively early, and Micah and I talked a few