Justin has just competed in his first Special Olympics Track meet, having been
coached by his peer mentor, Brad.

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Dad and I are walking in Lithia Park along the creek and I point out all the different colors of the rhododendrons. “That one’s fuchsia, and that one I think is ver-mill-ion. That’s a funny name, Dad.” The flowers are just starting to bud out and in the light of the setting sun, they kind of light up and glow like the Chinese lanterns I saw on the boats on a lake near Portland. It was Chinese New Year. I need to find out why they don’t celebrate New Year at the right time like we do.

The snow run off makes the current flow really high and fast. I’ll try to remember the sound the rushing water makes for when I’m in bed and can’t sleep. We stop on an old wooden bridge that crosses the creek to watch the branches and twigs wash down under us. This is the coolest day ever.

“I ran good today, d…didn’t I Dad?”

He puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me. “Yep, you did a fine job today. You know son, we are proud of you every day.”

I throw a small stone into the water and watch it swim downstream before it sinks. I am sure he’s in a good mood and not mad at Mom anymore, so I say, “The Special Olympics State Meet is coming up later in the s…spring. Dad, I really w…want to go.”

He stands with his arms folded on the top of the bridge. “Will that be in Ashland too?”

I knew he would ask where, and I don’t want to answer because it might make his answer bad. “N…no, it’s going to be in Corvallis, but there will be a bus taking the com…competitors and we’ll all stay in dorms at the University and…”

He turns toward me and puts a finger to his lips, which is a sign for me to be quiet. I can see the cuticle on his index finger where he has chewed on it. I don’t like being told to be quiet, but I have to. His voice is hard and low like the one he uses when wants me to focus and control myself.

“Then the answer is no.” He puts his hand on my arm. “ I know how much you want to go…look I’m sorry, but Justin, you know how I feel about you taking trips away from home. You’re still too young to put yourself at risk being with all those kids who can’t always control themselves.” I bite my lower lip so hard I can taste the blood. “I made a concession and let your mom talk me into today’s meet, and we were lucky, nobody got hurt, but who knows what will happen the next time? Anyway that was the deal we made.” He rubs my arm.

He wants to rub away the hurt I feel, but it’s not working. If I cry, I show him that I am too young to go on a trip. But if I don’t let it out I will explode! I grab his hand and push it away from my shoulder

“Don’t…don’t treat me like I can’t take care of myself.” My words yell out of my mouth before I can stop them. They splatter Dad with their ugly sounds along with my blood and spit. I hear myself yelling with a voice I don’t recognize. ”You don’t know wh…what I can do. In fact, you d…don’t know anything!”

He doesn’t wipe his face. He just stands there looking at me with pain in his eyes.

People walking by on the bridge go by fast and don’t look at us. And I can’t stop what is coming out, what I feel. “It’s you who t…treat me like I’m handicapped, more than the kids at school! It’s you who want…want to keep me locked away where others won’t see me! You don’t know anything! You don’t know me!”

I don’t move and I don’t breathe. My heart pounds like it will come out of my chest. Dad just looks at me.

He slowly puts his hands up to my face and pulls me to his chest, holding me tight like he will keep my heart from popping out. His tears are warm on my neck. “Justin, Justin, Justin” he says over and over.

I have hurt him. Suddenly I am so sorry for yelling at him like I did. I am the child and he is the father and I know I have to respect him, not hurt him. I pull away. “Dad, l…lost my temper. I’m…I’m so sorry I screamed at you like an animal. I have agg …aggressions and I couldn’t control them, but I shouldn’t have let them out so…so des… destructively? Do you understand?”

I can see his Adam’s apple swallow in his neck. “You are not an animal, you are a sensitive, caring, loving boy; no, young man. Justin, I think I have a lot of things I need to understand about you, and myself. Let’s talk in a better time and place. And now, I think I’d like to walk quietly and enjoy the creek and the park.”

He takes my hand and we walk up the dirt trail facing the last rays of sunlight.