Autism Vox

Unexpectedly

by Kristina Chew, PhD on June 10th, 2008

En route to go swimming at my college in Jersey City, the wail of a police siren behind us made Charlie cringe and cry out. I explained that it was a police car in a hurry to help someone—maybe there was an accident. Charlie sat up straight in the middle of the back seat and looked gravely out the window, and seemed to draw back a bit as we slowed to a halt: A car was turned sideways across the left and middle lanes and, as a state trooper car pulled away, the front of the car was not at all intact. Another car was parked backwards on the shoulder and an EMT was leaning in while another prepared a gurney. There were two ambulances.

“It’s an accident,” I said with one eye on the cars in the other lane jockeying to get into one lane. “That’s where the policeman was going.” Charlie remained solemn and quiet all the way over the Pulaski Skyway and down West Side Avenue and Kennedy Blvd. It was really muggy and we both moved slowly towards the Rec Center with visions of jumping into 12 feet of water.

The doors were locked: Closed for renovation this week.

Charlie tried the door sadly and agreed to go on a walk before heading off. My college occupies just about a block and a half of Jersey City streets. We went through the courtyard, over the bridge (Charlie likes it up there), and down Montgomery to Bergen Avenue where we passed a dollar store, gritty storefront windows with handmade taped-up signs, a bodega. I kept expecting Charlie to ask to go in for a soda but he seemed content, cars whizzing and honking by in the steamy heat. Once we crossed Kennedy Boulevard, he suddenly picked up the pace and we were back in the black car and on our way to the grocery store. On the interstate, we kept passing cars that had pulled over, their owners crouching to change a tire, look under the hood, exchange insurance information with someone whose car they had “tapped.” One man waved at someone driving a freight train in the opposite direction.

Charlie got right out of the car to go into the store; we left with a big hunk of watermelon he’d carefully chosen, a pack of sushi (inevitably, with Charlie), and other good stuff for a hot day’s eating. Charlie helped bag the groceries and carried the watermelon out to the car, light on his feet.

Just before we were going to get back on the highway, we sighted another police car, blue and red lights flashing. “Something else’s going on,” I said to Charlie. I thought I saw a long form close to the ground, shaped like a very slender fan, black but dark dark blue, maybe?

The policeman was standing in front of his car. A peacock stood, tail feathers a bit bedraggled, at the corner of the road.

“A peacock!” (In very suburban New Jersey.)

Charlie echoed me.

It was a mom-and-son afternoon, and—-as we could only guess at answers for what we say—-an afternoon of the unexpected.

Share This

Related Stories

Evan Kamida (July 30, 2000 – July 24, 2008)
Sneeze Cough
What About the Adults?
Who pays for what? (4): Public dollars for private schools?
The Medication Question: Use of Antipsychotic Drugs for Individuals with Intellectual Disabilities

POSTED IN: Charlisms, New Jersey