Spring break was approaching so Tim and I started making plans about the things we would do during our time off. Our first goal was to try to get our parents to allow us go to the movies by ourselves at least once, if not twice. We were starting to discuss other things when Tim made a surprising proposal.

“Would you want to come over to my house some morning or afternoon? My mom wants me to invite you over for lunch.”

“Well, if you want me to,” I answered tentatively.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I don’t want you to come… it’s just that my brother can be such a pain.”

This was the first time he had ever introduced the subject of his brother. I wanted to ask a whole bunch of questions but I thought it would be better to keep my big mouth shut.

“It’s… well, it’s not easy to explain. My brother is hard to handle sometimes; it’s not his fault and I know I shouldn’t complain about it but he can really wreck a day.”

“I would like to see your house,” I responded, “that is, if you think it’ll be OK.”

“It’ll be OK,” he said. “My mom is really good at handling him.”

I was even more curious than before and found it difficult to wait the three days before going over there. I was somewhat disappointed that I didn’t see Carl during my visit. Tim said that this wasn’t unusual because his brother was extremely shy around strangers. Tim showed me the house and we went up to his room. A short time later, Mrs. Perals came upstairs to see how we were doing. After she left, I watched her open the door to the room across the hall and enter. She said hello to Carl and closed the door behind her. I heard her voice every now and then but I never heard any answers. Tim caught on that I was paying more attention to what might be going on across the hall than to what he was saying.

“You’re wondering about what’s going on in Carl’s room, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “It’s none of my business.”

“My mom thinks that I should tell you about Carl—because we’re friends—but she explains it a lot better than I can. Do you want me to ask her to explain it to you?”

“Yeah, that is if your mom wants to.”

During lunch, Mrs. Perals told me that Carl was autistic. I didn’t know what that meant but she was good at putting it into words that I could understand.

“Carl has a condition called ‘autism.’ It’s only within the last twenty years that doctors started giving a name to this condition. In Carl’s case, his autism manifests itself in several ways. Carl has not learned to speak yet. I try to work with him every day but progress is very slow. Also, he doesn’t adapt to changes very well. He can become quite upset if his routine is interrupted or if his surroundings are changed.”

“Will my visit today upset him?” I asked sincerely.

“No, Billy, it’s OK for you to come over whenever you want. You see, Carl doesn’t come out of his room very much so, while he probably knows that you’re here, your visit doesn’t actually interfere with his normal day.”

She paused for a few seconds before continuing.

“I happen to think that Carl is very bright in a lot of areas. I know that he is aware of almost everything that goes on in this house, even though he doesn’t always show it. That’s one of the awful things about this condition—people who have it have a very hard time socializing and being around other people. Maybe it’s because they have an exaggerated need for everything to be the same… There is one other thing,” she added, “he still wears diapers all the time—he’s never been able to go without them.”

Tim and I spent the afternoon playing ball in his backyard. I couldn’t get Carl off my mind. I felt sorry for him and wondered if anything could be done to help him.

“The doctors say that my parents should put Carl in an institution but my mom won’t hear of it. She reads everything that is written about autism and spends most of the day with Carl trying to teach him things. Most of the time he just ignores her but she keeps trying anyway.” “Gee, your mom is really dedicated, isn’t she?” I observed.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he answered without conviction. “I just wish that she had some time for me, too.”

I had never thought about how much time my parents devoted to me. Since my sister, Julie, was eight years older, I had never felt that she and I were in competition for our parents’ attention. I guess it was natural for Tim to feel somewhat neglected.

“Do you ever try to do stuff with Carl?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he answered. “Only I don’t see that it does any good. I think that he and I used to get along better when we were both littler.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, he has always pretty much ignored me but in the last few years he’s started having these really bad tantrums where he comes into my room and throws his diapers and plastic pants at me.”

“His diapers and plastic pants?” I said in surprise. “Nothing else?”

“No, never anything else. It’s kind of weird.”

“Yeah.” I agreed.

We were silent for a few seconds and an idea came into my head. “You’re going to think that this is really weird but I think I know why your brother throws his diapers at you.”

“You do?” he asked skeptically.

“Well, maybe… I don’t know. Do you think that Carl can remember a time when you used to wear diapers, too ?”

“Yeah,” he answered slowly, “ that’s possible.”

“Then couldn’t it be that he’s mad at you because you don’t wear them anymore. I mean, your mom did say that Carl doesn’t like it when things change, right?”

“Yeah, she did… but… I don’t know. It seems a little farfetched.” ****