Marker Pens

“Mum,” Alex whined as he got out of the car, “Where are we?”

His mother paused for a second. She had to phrase this exactly right or there would be trouble.

Alexander James Davies was only 9 years old when he was diagnosed with an extreme case of Asperger’s Syndrome. The late diagnosis had meant there wasn’t much they could do to help him. His parents had tried desperately to cope with his outbursts but because his father spent a lot of time working, his mother had reached breaking point.

“Alexander,” his mother called from downstairs, “Can you come downstairs please? I need to talk to you.”

She knew that the only way to persuade him to come downstairs was to bargain with him. He hated breaking out of a routine but this had to be done.

Minutes later, a rather distressed looking Alex made his way into the living room. He took his usual seat, just to the right of the large windows. He sat in silence, not glaring at his mother but something close.

“Alexander,” his mother said cautiously, “We need to talk.”

He didn’t say a word but simply nodded.

“I know you’re not a mute Alex,” his mother warned, “So why won’t you speak?”

“I do speak,” he argued, “and don’t call me Alex. It’s Alexander and nothing else.”

“Fine,” She sighed, “Alexander we need to talk about where you are going next week.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his hand gripping the sleeve of his oversized jumper.

“Yes you are so don’t argue with me,” his mother frowned, she could feel herself losing her temper but she knew she couldn’t.

“I’m not arguing with you,” he said blankly, the grip on his sleeve relaxing slightly.

“Alexander...”

“I’ve got to go. I haven’t finished...”

“Alexander.”

“I really have to go.”

“Alexander James Davies,” his mother shouted, finally losing her temper, “You are going to sit in that chair and you are going to listen.”

Alex stopped talking and looked up at his mother, tears filling his eyes.

“I am completely aware that you don’t like breaking routine,” She continued, “So I am going to make this quick. Tomorrow you are going to a special place where they will take care of you until you can care for yourself. Nothing you say or do can change that so I want you to go to bed as early as possible because we are leaving early in the morning.”

Alex stared at his mother, sobbing, before standing up quickly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he screamed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He sprinted for the stairs. His mother sat in silence, listening to his thundering footsteps on the stairs and the slam of his bedroom door. She hadn’t wanted it to happen like this.

“I’m sorry Alex,” she muttered, her head in her hands.

At the age of 10 things changed for him. His mother had lost all patience with the young boy. She wanted him to be happy and to have the best life he possibly could. She felt she had let him down.

“Alexander,” she said holding out her hand for him to take, “We are at the special place I told you about.”

Alex, who was now holding her hand, looked up at her.

“Don’t worry,” she said, trying to convince herself the same thing, “Everything will be fine.”

The grip on her hand increased as they walked towards the main doors. She looked down at her son briefly. He was still looking up at her, not blinking. The doors in front of them opened.

An elderly woman, her tied back tightly, made her way towards them. She held her hand out to Mrs Davies. Not letting go of her son’s hand, Mrs Davies shook the woman’s.

“You must be Mrs Davies,” The woman said, releasing her hand, “And you must be Alex...”

“Alexander,” His mother corrected, “He doesn’t like anything else.”

“I see,” She replied, “Well I’m Mrs Smith, the house keeper here. Would you like to follow me?”

Mrs Smith led them into the main hall and indicated for them to sit on the seats that were placed outside an office door. The door had frosted glass and the name of the occupant printed on the glass.

“If you wait there, I’ll get someone to come and give you all the details of the establishment.”