Hush

Date/Timing: 15 December 2005
Setting: Prague, Czech Republic
tweaking something from Gotham
.
Raleigh breathes hard through his mouth—
Can't smell hospital stink that way.
—eyes squinched tightly closed, head between his knees. 
Mom rubs gentle circles between his shoulders.
The spots fade from his vision as he gets his breath back and his thoughts swirl more slowly. 
Mom hums.
One of Grandma's songs—Yancy's favorite.
Raleigh lifts his head—
Mom sings quietly, «Eyes that gaze into mine; A smile that is lost on his lips~»
—climbs into her lap—
«That is the unretouched portrait; Of the man to whom I belong~»
—takes a deep breath of her sweet perfume—
«When he takes me in his arms; And speaks softly to me~»
—curls his fingers in her scarf and sighs.
«I see life in rosy hues~.» Mom kisses his hair.
Raleigh snuffles. «When can we go home?»
«Soon, little treasure.» She pushes his hair out of his eyes. «As soon as I talk to the doctor.»
«I want Yancy.»
«Be strong a few more minutes for me. Can you do that?»
Raleigh nods against her shoulder.
A knock at the door—
Raleigh tenses, peeks out.
—and a pale man shuffles in with a handful of papers. He looks up, smiles a wrong-ish smile at Mom. "Mrs Becket?"
Mom nods.
"I am Doctor Marek." He clears his throat. "You speak Czech? My English is quite weak, I am afraid."
„Czech is fine, Doctor.“
„Good, good.“ Doctor Marek sits in the chair at the little desk, looks down at his papers. „I have read your son's file and I agree with your other doctors and—“ 
Lots of words Raleigh hasn't learned yet.
Mom snaps something about 'bad pills'.
Doctor Marek smiles his wrong-ish smile at Raleigh and Raleigh recognizes it now: Doctor Marek /pities Raleigh and Raleigh wants to curl up and disappear so he'll stop looking at him like that.
He buries his face in Mom's scarf instead.
Doctor Marek's talking about 'smaller pills' and and 'helping' and 'normal children'.
Mom squeezes Raleigh closer. „„My son is just fine as he is.““
„„But this—““ Big word. „„—hurts him. Medication(?) can help, at least with his fears,““ whines Doctor Marek. „There are new—““
Mom snarls back.
«Mom, I want to go home,» Raleigh pleads, his heart starting to race again.
««We'll leave very soon, Raleigh.»» She cradles his head, kisses his hair. ""I will not make him suffer through another of that class of drugs. Isn't there another type?""
Papers shuffle.
""There is, ah, one other, but it is still ... being tested for your son's disease.""
""He does not have a /disease,"" hisses Mom, ""nor is he a guinea pig. We will wait until something new is proven safe.""
""But, Mrs Becket—""
Mom stands, settles Raleigh on her hip. "We are done here—" 
Raleigh looks past Doctor Marek to the door.
"—and will see ourselves out. Thank you for your time."
Doctor Marek gives a little bow and Mom's heels click sharply against the tile floor as she marches like a solider down the hallway and out the hospital door to the curb. 
Raleigh breathes deeply, Mom's scent—stale cigarette smoke, mint, honeysuckle—calming him, drowning out the harsher smells.
With a whistle and a wave, she hails a taxi, and eases him into the backseat of the one which stops, then climbs in beside him.
He presses tight to her side, murmurs, «Why did we have to go to another hospital?»
«Treasure, I know you don't like hospitals or doctors, but—» Mom wraps her arm around his shoulders, takes a deep breath. «—there is something different about your brain they should be able to help.» Voice drops to a hiss, «If they were even /somewhat competent.»
«Am I going to die?»
«No, you're not dying,» she reassures. «This sort of difference doesn't affect your health. It's called Asperger syndrome.»
«What is it? What's wrong with me?»
«There is /nothing wrong with you, Treasure: you're just ... you just think differently than me or Yancy or Jazmine or your father.» 
«I'm not sick?»
«You're not sick.» Smooths his hair. «Your brain soaks up /everything very quickly—like how you learn languages so fast, read body language so well in Grandma's La Canne classes, and gather up history like it's candy.»
«But everyone learns like that.» Frowns, confused. «At least, Yancy and Jazzy do.»
«They do pick things up quickly, but you're just a /little faster and you can find patterns a /little more easily.»
Raleigh peers up at her, feeling lighter than he had since the panic started. «So I'm special?»
«Of course, you are—» Kisses his forehead. «—just like Yancy and Jazmine.»
«Oh.» Raleigh deflates a little.
«But, the same difference means you can be ... overwhelmed easily by noises, people, or your surroundings.»
«Like this morning?»
«Like this morning,» agrees Mom.
«And like Bergen. And Lugano. And Aberdeen.» Raleigh curls in on himself.
«This doesn't mean I love you any less than I do Yancy and Jazmine.»
Raleigh sniffles, fishes in his pocket for his Game Boy. «I must've left it at the guest house,» he mutters.
Mom nudges his shoulder. «I have something better than games in mind for you.»
Raleigh looks up, catches Mom's coy smile.
She bobs her chin toward the window.
Raleigh looks.
Glowing lights and bright colors and crowds of people slowly fill the window as the car rolls along.
«A market!» squeals Raleigh. 
«It's not just /any market. This one only happens once a year.»
«/Really?» Raleigh presses his face to the glass.
«Really. It's the Christmas market.»
«It's so pretty!»
The taxi comes to a stop and Mom pays the driver, before shepherding Raleigh out onto the curb. She takes his hand in hers, covers his eyes with her other. «Do you trust me, Treasure?»
«Yes, Mom.»
«Then close your eyes and walk with me.»
Raleigh closes his eyes.
««No peeking.»» 
The air is full of happy sounds, rich smells, rustling clothes, and voices speaking at least six different languages.
They walk forty-two steps and Mom stops.
«Now?»
«Go ahead.»
Raleigh opens—his jaw drops.
Lights! So many lights dancing between the snowflakes!
He soaks up the wooden stalls full of toys and knick-knacks and /food and—
«You like it?»
«It's /wonderful!» Raleigh hugs her middle, glows up at her. «What was the better thing you had for me? Is this it?»
«You'll see,» teases Mom, starting to walk deeper into the market.
«It's so busy!»
«It's even /busier the week of Christmas. I wanted to bring you early so the crowd was smaller.»
Memories of the concert in Bergen flare up and Raleigh shudders.
«Are you alright?»
«Uh huh. Just remembering.» He offers Mom his puppy face. «I'll pull your sleeve if it gets too much?»
«What about my scarf instead? I think you'll be using my sleeve to show me things you find.»
«Sure!»
«Let's go!» Mom leads him over to a display of sparkling stones ready to be set into jewelry. 
Raleigh pulls her to a stall offering music boxes made of polished wood.
Laughing, she guides them to a table covered with perfumed soaps. «Which do you like best?»
Raleigh sniffs each and every one. «The balsam, the mint, and the lavender.»
Mom hums and pays for those—and a vanilla bar, too—and tucks them into her bag.
Raleigh squeals and drags her to a candy shop with dozens of kinds of hard candies.
«Cherry is still your favorite, right?»
«Uh huh!»
Mom adds a small packet of bright red sweets to her bag.
«Where next?»
«Right over here.» She brings them to a booth crammed with yarn. «Pick out a few of your favorites so I can teach you something after we're done here.»
Raleigh cocks his head and studies the rainbow of colors. Then he steps closer to the balls, touches each one like he'd seen Mom do. He takes a deep breath, gathers a deep blue, a rich blue, and a golden-green almost the same color as Mom's eyes. A pause and he takes an orangy-yellow like Yancy's hair, and offers them to Mom.
«Those?»
Raleigh nods. «Are they alright?»
She adds his choices to a royal purple and a warm cream piled in front of her. «They're a perfect start. Any others catch your eye?» 
«Let me check.» He closes his eyes, spins in place until he starts getting dizzy, wobbles to a stop, opens them again. He blinks until his eye focus and grabs the yarn right in front of him: a ball patterned with every color of the rainbow.
«'Stained glass', hmm? Give me a three of those, Treasure, so I can make you a hat with it.»
Raleigh hands them over and Mom turns to the seller, speaking to the older woman in a new language. He closes his eyes to listen better, but he still doesn't recognize any of it.
Mom squeezes his shoulder. «That was Rromani. I haven't taught it to you yet because it's more difficult than the ones I've been showing you.»
«Can we start now?»
Mom laughs, cards his hair. «One thing at a time, Treasure. First, we need to drink hot chocolate and learn about yarn.»
«Cool!»
She takes Raleigh's hand and they glide through the snow to a little café at the edge of the market square.
It's like walking in a fairy tale.
Inside the warm café, Mom wipes her shoes on the mat and orders hot chocolate and something else while Raleigh copies her actions. 
„Tell her what you'd like, Raleigh.“
„Hot ... cocoa?“
„Good, good,“ encourages the server.
„A warm—“ Bites his lip. „A warm bun with fruit?“
„Excellent! You have very good Czech, young man. You only need more practice.“
Raleigh ducks his head.
„So you will have to come back and order more!“
He looks up, smiling. „Thank you!“
„You are most welcome.“
Mom steers him to a table for two next to the window, settles their shopping between her feet on the floor. 
«Tell me about the yarn!»
«After we eat. You—» Taps his nose with a finger.
Raleigh giggles.
«—are a growing boy and need something to keep up your energy.»
«Alright,» sighs Raleigh. He swings his feet, eyes wandering around the café, cataloging everyone's posture and language.
„Here you are!“ sings the server. „Two hot chocolate and a freshly-made batch of /palačinky with apricot jam. Enjoy!“ She twirls away, shirt swishing around her legs.
Raleigh cuts into one with his fork, watches the pale orange jam flow out onto his plate. «These look like crepes.» 
«They're Czech crepes,» explains Mom, splitting hers. «They're made almost the same way your Grandma makes hers and then they use different fillings.» Nips a bit from her fork. «I'll teach you to make them when you're a bit older.»
Raleigh takes a bite and squees at the sweet and fluffiness that melts on his tongue. He inhales the rest.
Mom smiles and slides another in front of him.
«These are really /goooooood.»
«They're some of the best I've had. We'll have to thank Alena for recommending this place.»
«The one with the fluffy curls and the bulky sweaters?»
«The very one.»
«I like her. She always smells nice and I love those honey candies she brings us.»
«You and your candy, Treasure.»
Raleigh beams and attacks his next /palačinky.
Category:Ficlet
Category:Prague (setting)
Category:Raleigh
Category:Raleigh's POV
Category:Raleigh (ficlet)
Category:Dominique
Category:Dominique (ficlet)
Category:Meme (mention)
Category:Yancy (mention)
Category:Jazmine (mention)
Category:Richard (mention)
Category:Ficlets with images
Category:Raleigh has Asperger's Syndrome