Carly’s Voice (36 page)

Mel had worked with Carly for two years and been her “Howard” while at Cedarview.
But with plans for Carly to move to Toronto, Mel had found a new permanent job and
tendered her resignation. It was time for Carly to start letting go of her friend.
That Carly, too, would be leaving did not mitigate the sense of loss either of them
felt.

“What’s up?” Mel asked one afternoon when Carly was being particularly ornery.

“Just mad.”

“Why?”

“I so don’t want you to leave.”

“I totally understand, I’m sad, too. But you have to realize that you will be going
through a lot of changes in the next few months, good changes! Like going to camp,
an awesome camp, then going home to Toronto and spending more time with your family.
I have a family, too, and I have a house, and I needed a new job to pay for everything.
So I want you to know I will always be around! Like on MSN, and when I come to Toronto
I’d love to do lunch! What do you think?”

“Autism Resources I doesn’t believe in me.”

“Well, I work for Autism Resources and I believe in you, and so does Claire,” Mel
countered, referring to the program director and Mel’s direct supervisor.

“No one knows. Just go be happy.”

“Well, Miss Carly, you certainly know how to lay a guilt trip.”

“I know.”

“Well, I am so glad that I know you and I want to continue our friendship. If you
want to?”

“Like I am best friends with Genna,”
Carly said.

Genna was another Autism Resources staff member who worked evenings supervising Carly’s
dinner and bedtime routine.

“Cool, I’m glad you are bff with Genna. That’s great.”

“Have you ever had a best friend?”

“Yes, I have, I was best friends with a girl Sandra and another girl Sandi in high
school and university. My bff, though, is my cousin Jill, she’s the best. Okay, so
what should we do on Friday? That’s my last day here.”

“Have a party.”

“What kind of party?”

“A pizza party.”

“Do you read minds! That’s what I was thinking, a pizza party would be so fun.”

“Just us.”

“Okay. Should we watch a movie?”

“I am finished writing.”

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“I am sad.”

“I’m sad, too.”

“No Mel you are not.”

“How do you know if I’m sad or not?”

“Cause you got a new job.”

“Do you know what the term
bittersweet
means?”

“No.”

“
Bittersweet
is a term used when something makes you happy on one hand but really sad on the other
hand. Like when I left the show at Deerhurst, I was happy to be done but I was really
sad to not work with my friends anymore. And now this decision was bittersweet ’cause
I am really happy about my new job, but I am very sad that I won’t be working with
you anymore.”

“So you are sad.”

“Yeah, I was really upset when I told Claire I was leaving ’cause I really like her,
too.”

“Mel are you going to make lots of money?”

“I’ll make enough money to live comfortably.”

“Do you believe in me?”

“Yes! I think you are very smart and you could change things and help people with
autism, but you have to continue to work on controlling your body.”

“No way.”

“I think when you live in Toronto, you will be happier and will be able to help people
with autism. You can go to Queen’s Park!” said Mel, referring to the location of our
provincial government.

“Mel are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious, I think you have a strong voice and if you continue to work on
your behaviors you will be amazing.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I have never known anyone like you, you’re so smart and so funny.”

“For real.”

“Yes, for real.”

“But no one believes.”

“Well, what about Howard and Mom and Dad and Barb and everyone like that?”

“Not sister.”

“Who? Taryn?”

“Yes.”

“She believes in you.”

“Look, her best friend makes fun of me.”

“I don’t know if I believe you; you tend to lie about stuff sometimes, and I know
Taryn would be really upset if anyone she knew made fun of you.”

“No it’s true.”

“Which friend?”

“Yolanda.”

“Are you telling the truth, ’cause I will verify this friend with your mom.”

“No I’m lying.”

“Why would you lie to me about something? You really shouldn’t lie because then people
can’t trust what you say.”

“Mel Autism Resources is stupid.”

“Actually, I like Autism Resources, and you should remember that Autism Resources
works really hard to help kids like you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, Autism Resources helps lots of kids with autism control
their behavior and learn new skills. If places like Autism Resources didn’t exist
lots of kids wouldn’t get the help they need.”

“Cool.”

“Do you feel any differently about Autism Resources now?”

“No I still think its stupid.”

“Okay, well, you’re entitled to your opinion. What do you want to talk about?”

“So Mel when are you leaving.”

“Well, tomorrow is my last day of work. We’re having a pizza party with a movie. Then
I’ll have to come back on a Saturday to train the new person.”

“Bummer.”

“I’m sad, too. Can we still talk on MSN?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to a really cool camp this summer. Are you excited?”

“Yes.”

“Will you email me from camp and let me know how you like it? I always want to remain
friends with you. I think you’re totally cool.”

“Mel are you kidding?”

“No, I would never lie to my friends. I think you are amazing and I’d like to stay
friends.”

“Howard asked if he could make an important movie.”

“What kind of movie?”

“A movie about Autism.”

“Cool, so like a documentary?”

“I think so.”

“Wow! That sounds great. Would you be the star?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds awesome! “Wanna play a fun game called M.A.S.H.?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet, I’m gonna read your future!”

On their last day together, Carly did not officially say good-bye. Perhaps it’s too
painful for her to close doors, even as others open. I am certain that Carly does
not lag behind us in our world; rather it is us who are playing catch up. She has
her own way of wrapping things up, creating order out of chaos. Unable to feel or
share emotions? Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, what better way
to say good-bye than to hold on to a sweet memory.

“What’s so funny, Carly?” asked Mel.
“Mel you are so funny.”

“What did I say or do that you found funny?”

“Has been so nice knowing you.”

“Carly, I’m not dropping off the face of the earth, I’m still gonna be around!”

“Mel I remember a great thing you did.”

“What’s that?”

“You made me cupcakes,”
Carly said nostalgically. With that, she gave the sign for “finished” and closed
her computer with Mel for the last time.

“Have you ever stood up for any thing you believed in before, Carlito?”

“Yes,” he replied with resentment.

“What was it?”

“You and taking you through the gauntlet.”

“So then believe in me. I know what I’m doing.”

I looked at her and replied, “really?”

“No. But you have to trust me.”

Something in her voice made me want to trust her. Hooowie hovered in a spot and waited
for us to come to him. “We are almost through the forest but it’s getting dark and
this forest has two faces to it,” Carlito said.

“What does that mean?” Tareena anxiously asked. “It’s like humans. They can be nice
one second and mean the next.”

“I have had many teachers like that,” Tareena replied. “This is a lot worse tareena,”
Hoowie commented. “Come night fall this forest becomes crawling with the meanest and
scariest animals in the world.”

Carlito said, “Mean animals that’s all this forest has to offer. I’ve looked the meanest
animal in the eye and told him off and I’m still alive to talk about it. I’m not afraid
of any animals.”

—Excerpt from
The Elephant Princess

A few days after Mel left Cedarview in April 2008, Tammy and I were attending an afternoon
party for some friends. In the middle of the celebration we received a panicked phone
call from the young woman working with Carly that afternoon. She informed us that
Carly had made an accusation of abuse by a staff member. She read us the conversation
she had had with Carly throughout the morning, her voice quivering with emotion.

There is no preparation a parent can have to receive news like this. I was numb. And
incredulous. Abuse had been one of our worst fears when leaving Carly in a respite
program. We had heard the statistics of mistreatment in residential homes but had
convinced ourselves that the types of facilities we used were different.

Tammy and I rushed home from our friends’ party to try to get Carly to speak with
us directly online. On the drive home, neither of us spoke. We didn’t dare. It wasn’t
until we saw Carly’s words appear before us on the computer that we felt the full
impact of the accusation. It was a slow, painful conversation. Tammy sat in our kitchen,
Carly still at the facility with her therapist. At times minutes would pass as we
waited for Carly to respond to Tammy’s questions. We wanted to believe our daughter,
but not believe this was possible. Carly had made up stories in the past—a fictitious
boyfriend, an Aunt Rita, an attic full of books. But in all of these cases, she conceded
that she had lied shortly after. She had a vivid and mature imagination that she flexed
to counter the boredom of living at Cedarview.

The story slowly unfolded over the next two hours on instant messaging, with Carly
miles and miles from home. I watched, in a
gasping state, as if I were watching someone else’s nightmare unfold. As Carly and
Tammy spoke online, I paced the kitchen trying to walk away from the wave of panic
and nausea. But the consistency in Carly’s report, all the
whens
and
hows
, made her accusation impossible to refute. I was paralyzed.

Tammy had the clarity of mind to call Peter, the director of the government agency
that funded Carly’s residential program, at home to ask him what we should do. “Let
me make it simple,” he said. “With an allegation like this, I am compelled to phone
the police immediately. It’s no longer in your hands.”

When Tammy hesitated, struggling with Carly’s past stories and half-truths, Peter
calmed her with his decisiveness. It didn’t matter if we later found out that it was
not true. When an allegation is made, the law favors the victim. This came with heavy-hearted
relief; doing the right thing, either way, felt wrong. The police arrived that evening
and we were not allowed to pick Carly up until the next morning. Late into the night,
they attempted to question her and the staff that was on duty. With the police there,
we knew her to be safe. Carly shut down immediately after the long and tearful discussion
with Tammy. Exhausted, depleted, and terrified, Carly sat on a big couch with her
therapist in the den at Cedarview, rocking. The officers left, agreeing to meet the
next day with Carly, Tammy, and me at the local police station.

Even with a quiet house that night, we were sleepless. Tammy and I lay in bed, whispering
so as not to alarm Matthew or Taryn. We broke Carly’s story down into tiny increments,
looking for breaks in the logic, praying it might not be true. Did the accused have
access to her room at night? Where was the evening staff? Why would this just be coming
out now? But why would Carly make this up? By morning it was clear in Tammy’s mind
that Carly was being truthful. “It just doesn’t make any sense that she would lie
about
this. She knows she’s leaving in June. Why would she make this up? And the description
she gave . . .” Her voice trailed off.

That afternoon, as Carly recounted her experience, I watched something in my wife
die. I bury hurt, but Tammy wears it like a second skin.

I was tortured by the devastation this would bring not only on the individual in question,
but on all the staff and residents at Cedarview if her accusations were false. But
I had to agree with Tammy. Carly’s past fibs aside, she was neither cruel nor cavalier
about others’ feelings. The rest of her life was becoming more positive, not less
so. Her voice was getting stronger and her confidence growing. If anything, it made
sense that she now had the fortitude to come forward about the abuse she said had
been going on for six months.