Carly’s Voice (23 page)

(5:12:29 PM) Carly says:
can we go to Great Wolf Lodge to swim

The pacing of our conversations was slow and clumsy, as if passing through an interpreter.
I wasn’t always sure I was keeping up with her, or her with me. I would just be getting
into the rhythm, and Carly would veer in a new direction. In this case, we went down
the path of discussing a family trip to an indoor water park and hotel that was popular
with kids. Parents who were less keen to run through the tepid water appreciated the
hospitality of the hotel, which served alcohol in the lounges overlooking the pools.

By the summer of 2007, Carly had been shuttling between home and Cedarview for about
nine months. I relied on these sometimes-terse conversations to get to know Carly,
despite our physical separation. Although I deeply appreciated the fledgling connection
forming between us through words, I nevertheless found the abruptness of how conversations
started and ended, how some of my queries would go unanswered, jarring. Midconversation,
it was not unusual for Carly to type
“I am done,”
crisply ending the exchange. Manners were not something worth expending effort on.

(10:47:05 AM) Carly says:
you never come get me

(10:47:33 AM) dad says:
Hi Carly. i am working tomorrow. but mom isn’t so she will come get you in the afternoon.
think about what you want to do at home this weekend. maybe swim?

(10:48:30 AM) Carly says:
swim

(10:48:43 AM) dad says:
good. i think the weather will be nice. Howard wants to come by and see you at home
tomorrow. is that okay?

(10:54:01 AM) Carly says:
i need a cheesie

(10:54:28 AM) dad says:
well, you’re writing for me, so i think you deserve a cheesie. ask for one.

(10:54:52 AM) Carly says:
good
hoy
my sister

(10:56:58 AM) dad says:
Taryn? she is at camp still.

(10:57:34 AM) Carly says:
miss her

(10:57:43 AM) dad says:
you will see her next month. she is staying at camp for two months this year.

(10:59:24 AM) Carly says:
mel needs to give me s
r
chr
mel please

(11:02:26 AM) dad says:
what do you need? i dont understand.

(11:02:53 AM) Carly says:
cheesie

(11:03:35 AM) dad says:
ask mel for cheesie.

(11:06:12 AM) Carly says:
today my sister starts camp

(11:06:28 AM) dad says:
your sister has been at camp all month. but today is what’s called “visitors’ day.”
Mom went up to visit Taryn at camp today. then Mom will come get you tomorrow.

It was a midweek visitors’ day this year and Tammy drove up with the mothers of several
girls attending the camp, staying overnight at a lodge nearby. I never knew how much
information to give Carly. Not because I questioned her comprehension. I now knew
she heard and understood everything. But I was becoming acutely aware of how much
she did know. Even broaching the subject of Taryn attending camp in Algonquin Park
and spending time with her mother during visitors’ day while Carly sat in an air-conditioned
house working made me sick with guilt.

(11:07:58 AM) Carly says:
are you going

(11:08:14 AM) dad says:
No. I am working today, and then going to the airport to pick up Matthew. Matthew
was away for a month also. he will be home this afternoon. he wants to see you tomorrow
too.

If possible, I now felt worse having to remind Carly that Matthew was attending a
summer school program in Europe. Talk about the haves and have-nots. Usually the two
don’t exist so closely in the same family.

(11:10:29 AM) Carly says:
he wont remember me

Was she being literal or ironic? Understanding nuance would be one of the toughest
challenges of chatting with Carly. And it wasn’t like I could quickly ask, “Are you
kidding?” without adding suffering to her already laborious efforts of typing.

(11:10:46 AM) dad says:
what do you mean!! of course he remembers you. he loves you. he has asked about you
while he was away!!

(11:13:10 AM) Carly says:
mel trys to get me to type

(11:13:24 AM) dad says:
yes. because the more you type, the better you will become at it. and then you can
type all the time so we can understand you.

(11:14:04 AM) Carly says:
very hard

(11:14:07 AM) dad says:
i know. but i promise you, it will get easier. now, i am a very fast typist. but i
did not used to be!

(11:15:25 AM) Carly says:
say md
no

(11:16:07 AM) dad says:
really. if you type every day, you will become very fast. and it will be like speaking
with your voice.

(11:18:07 AM) Carly says:
say really mel really

(11:18:28 AM) dad says:
what do you mean? i didnt understand you. you want me to tell Mel something?

This was all getting too Fellini-esque for me.

(11:20:18 AM) Carly says:
mel needs to take me to you

(11:20:44 AM) dad says:
you miss me? i will see you tomorrow afternoon. today i need to work and then get
Matthew. sorry Carly. but it wont be long until i see you. what else are you doing
today?

I hated when she asked to come home. It made me feel like I had swallowed a bowling
ball. I hoped she would go off on another tangent.

(11:21:43) dad says:
are you still there? do you want to talk anymore?

(11:23:56 AM) Carly says:
mel needs new cars

Whoosh. Next topic.

(11:24:09 AM) dad says:
really? is her car broken or just getting old?

(11:26:44 AM) Carly says:
mel yes she started today

(11:26:56 AM) dad says:
she started what? looking for a new car? or you mean the car started today?

(11:27:39 AM) Carly says:
working
because she missed me

(11:29:12 AM) dad says:
yes! while you were at camp last month, i’m sure she missed you.

(11:30:10 AM) Carly says:
i am happy

(11:30:29 AM) dad says:
i’m glad. You are more comfortable at Cedarview than at camp?

(11:32:32 AM) Carly says:
mel really needs a job

(11:32:44 AM) dad says:
you are so funny. Mel has a job! she works with you, doesnt she??

(11:33:22 AM) Carly says:
just kidding

(11:33:31 AM) dad says:
you make me laugh! you have a good sense of humour. i think you are happier now that
you are not at camp. are you able to sleep better?

Carly had spent a few weeks at an overnight camp and had just returned to Cedarview.
Camp Kennebec was an integrated setting with some kids struggling with a variety of
disabilities and other “typical” campers living alongside them. It was an imbalanced
justice, but we tried to give to Carly some semblance of what we offered Taryn and
Matthew. In the past, she seemed to enjoy her experience there, but this summer she
hit a wall and spent most days crying or resisting all efforts to get her engaged.
I finally had to pick her up a week early and bring her back to Cedarview.

(11:34:40 AM) Carly says:
her car is ugly

(11:34:50 AM) dad says:
dont be mean! i’m sure Mel’s car is fine! it only has to get her from one place to
another.

(11:35:30 AM) Carly says:
pretty much

(11:35:51 AM) dad says:
you didnt answer me, are you able to sleep better? i hope you are able to sleep at
home tomorrow....

(11:36:12 AM) Carly says:
yes
really

(11:36:46 AM) dad says:
oh good. Carly, I need to go soon. I have a meeting for work in a few minutes. but
then when i get home with Matthew later, i will turn on my computer again. Would you
like to speak with Matthew today?

(11:38:12 AM) Carly says:
got mel real
upset

(11:39:01 AM) dad says:
why was she upset? because you made fun of her car? ha ha.

(11:39:16 AM) Carly says:
yes
never make fun

(11:41:11 AM) dad says:
thats right. you shouldn’t make fun. did you apologize to her?

(11:42:09 AM) Carly says:
bye i love you

At least this farewell had more optimism than her typical “I’m done”; that had a fatalist
quality that made me uneasy.

(11:42:14 AM) dad says:
bye carly. i love you too. and i will see you tomorrow.

Although the conversations had a loopy quality, I was grateful for the chance to get
to know my daughter, albeit from afar. One of the most heartwarming emails read,
“hi dad. it’s me carly. can we go for a walk just you and me. can we talk on msn [
instant messaging
]?”

Yes, Carly. We can talk and talk and talk. As much as you want.

Finally.

Arthur started to circle her. Arthur’s head turned to Hooowie the owl. His mouth opened
and said, “You stupid owl. This is a puny little girl.”

The girl moved her head slowly and said, “Who are you calling puny?”

Every one around her was in shock. See, as you know humans never—and I mean never—are
able to understand what we say. And here is a human that can.

Arthur stared into her eyes. He turned to all of us not with a look of shock, like
what we all had on our face, but with a look of satisfaction. He said in his deep
voice, “The prophecy has come true.”

We could not believe our ears. I could not take it any more. I stood up as tall as
I could and said, “Just because a human can hear what we can say does not mean that
she is the chosen one.”

Arthur whipped his head around. His eyes opened as big as my body. His mane shone
bright in the moonlight and then he said in only the voice a lion can use, “Carlito
are you saying you think she is not the one?”

I tried to stand up taller but it’s hard when your legs start to tremble and your
heart beats so fast that the rest of your body starts to shake. But I managed to stand
my ground and look at Arthur straight in his eyes and say, “Yes that is what I am
implying.”

I could not believe it. I, a gecko, one of the smallest creatures in the jungle just
looked the king in his eye and told him off.

—Excerpt from
The Elephant Princess

“Carly is becoming more human,” Taryn said to Tammy, missing the irony that Carly
lived at a
farm
half the week. There was no trace of cruelty in Taryn’s observation; she was making
a blunt observation. In fact, Taryn had always been uncannily perceptive. Several
years earlier, when she was around nine years old, Taryn and Tammy were running errands
at a shopping plaza frequented by the elderly Jewish population in the neighborhood.
“A lot of those women are really educated, you know, Mom,” Taryn commented upon seeing
a young Filipino woman escorting an old woman with a walker. She commented pensively,
“They come to this country to forge a better life for themselves and end up holding
an old Jewish lady’s hand.”

Taryn’s comment referred to the fact that Carly was becoming more expressive and engaged
than she had been during the twins’ first decade together. The conversations with
Mel went from awkward and simplistic to colloquial and, at times, heartfelt. Their
dialogue became a dominant topic of conversation in our household. Within a few months
of meeting Mel, Carly’s conversations became more mature and introspective.

In the late summer of 2007, we were planning a trip to New York City to see a neurologist
about Carly’s inability to speak. The doctor was noted for his work with kids with
autism. Tammy and I were still convinced that there was a physiological glitch we
might uncover, one that if cured could help Carly both speak and be less hyperactive.

Tammy, Carly, Taryn, and I were going to make a weekend out of it, and we asked Carly
what she’d like to see in the city, not sure if she was even aware of the sights of
Manhattan. Carly was home from respite, and after dinner, we sat at the kitchen table,
Taryn lounging like Cleopatra on the cushions that padded the window seat of the bay
window. “What do you want to do in New York?” I asked Carly.

“The lady with the torch,”
she replied.

“How do you know about the Statue of Liberty?”

“I know stuff. The Zoo. Will Matthew be in the cage?”

This was the beginning of what would become a long tradition of Carly ribbing her
brother about being an ape. Generally it accompanied a jab about his smell, something
I have never noticed, but a scent that Taryn described flatly as “boy.”