Amita, the next day, from a bookstore got a book on teaching little ones to sign, and started teaching herself. At Cal Sci, on Monday she made copies of a few pages for the Nanny before going to have lunch with Charlie at one of CalSci's cafeterias. Things were still tense between them, but they happened to be working on a consulting project together for a software company. After talking about the project for a while, Amita switched the subject to Suruli.
"Have you studied the sign language book yet?" she asked Charlie.
"Some," he answered.
"I'm having the nanny learn a few signs, so that she can teach him and
talk with him."
"Good idea," Charlie agreed, taking a bite out of the dry meatloaf.
Aftera pause, he said, "Let's make a deal."
"What kind of deal?" Amita asked suspiciously.
"Don't research too much but spend some time with him as his mom, not as his doctor," Charlie said.
"Charlie! It's my duty as his mother to do research on what could be his condition," Amita said with exasperation. "That Developmental Pediatrician misdiagnosed him."
"Amita, I'm sure that we could eventually find a doctor that agrees with you, but what help would that be to Suruli?" Charlie challenged his wife.
Just then, one of Cal Sci's few art teachers came up to them, named Swati Chandrasekar, and said hi to Amita.
"Long time no see," he told her.
Amita explained to Charlie, "He was auditing that ceramics class with me."
"Fun times! I was wondering, if you'd be willing to help me on a project."
"What kind of project?"
"I wanna use computers as part of my next exhibit, and I know you teach computer science."
"You mentioned wanting to do use computers as part of an installation," Amita remembered.
"Would you be willing to help me program the computers to interact with the public."
"Amita doesn't work on those kind of projects," Charlie said.
"Usually." Amita gave him a look.
"You could easily hire a student to do the work for much less money," Charlie pointed out.
"But I need...someone with expertise to make my vision a reality."
"I'll need details, so I can give you an estimate," Amita said.
"I've got drawings of what I'd like to do. Why don't we meet at four?"
"Sure."
"Well, I gotta go." He looked at his watch. "I have a class."
When he was out of earshot, Charlie asked, "You never mentioned him."
"We just made small talk while we each were shaping our clay."
"And why are you so eager to do this project?"
"It sounds interesting, and like a change of pace."
Charlie picked at his food roughly. "The project is beneath you."
"No it isn't."
"I gotta get to class." Charlie gruffly got up put his tray on the carousel for trays, and left.
Amita ended up taking the project, and found herself enjoying it. Suruli started to learn a few simple signs such as 'milk', 'yes', 'no' 'cookies', 'juice' 'car' and 'eat'. Speech therapy went along rather slowly.
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The Pasadena unified School District had its own speech therapist and psychologist evaluate Suruli. To Amita's consternation, the district psychologist also diagnosed Suruli with having 'a developmental delay', The child was considered eligible for an IEP, but not in the way Amita wanted.
"What are we going to do now?" Amita asked worriedly, as she, Charlie and Suruli left the district psychologist's office
"Keep doing what we've been doing." Charlie said. " Taking him to speech therapy."
"That's not enough." Amita said. "He needs more. Much more."
At that moment, Suruli pulled at Amita's shirt.
"Yes sweetie?" she asked him.
He made the sign for 'cookies'.
"After lunch." she told him.
He made the sign again.
Amita made the sign for 'no'. The boy pouted, and yet again made the sign for cookies, but Amita did not waver. The trio went to Wendy's for lunch, and then Amita dropped off CHarlie as he had class first. Then, she left Suruli with the nanny.
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After her last class of the day ended, she noticed Charlie sitting at the back of the class. A part of her hoped that maybe he wanted to apologize, but that was not to be.
"I gotta to to DC," he told her when the last student left.
"What for ?"
"I can't discuss it."
"Oh..one of those jobs," Amita sighed. "Must you take it? What about Suruli and Hugh? Aren't there other mathematicians who could do it?"
"Amita, please," Charlie said. "My flight is in three hours."
"What about luggage?"
"I canceled one of my classes, and went home to pack." Charlie pointed to a suitcase. "I got a taxi to pick me up from here."
"I could have taken you," Amita said.
"You need to pick up Suruli from the nanny," Charlie pointed out and then instructed. "Tell everyone that I'm doing consultant work for the Miami police and that I'm staying at the holiday inn."
"Sure."
"The taxi arrives soon," Charlie said. "Keep me up to date on the boys."
"I will."
Charlie gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, picked up his suitcase, and left Amita's classroom.
Amita then went to pick up the Suruli at the nanny's apartment. The two women greeted each other.
"I took him to the park," the nanny began. "But he hit another child who tried to use his tonka dump truck." The toy had been a gift from Alan.
"Okay. How did he play with the truck?"
"He would go up the slide, and let it go down."
After some more small talk, Amita left with the child. At home, she put Suruli in his play area, and got a glass of wine for herself. Alan would, upon coming home, cook dinner. Glass of wine in her hand, she worked on the project for the artist until Alan, with Hugh in tow, came.
"We're home!" Alan said, and went to say hi to his younger grandson. Then, he greeted Amita.
"Where's Charlie?"
"He has a consulting job with the Miami police."
"He didn't tell me anything about it," Alan remarked with puzzlement.
"It was a last minute, urgent thing." Amita kept her eye on her laptop.
"How long will Dad be gone?" Hugh asked.
"He didn't say."
"I could've gone with him," the teen protested.
"And miss school?" Alan asked.
"I could do my homework by the pool or beach," Hugh countered.
Alan said, "I'll go make dinner. Hugh, come on and help."
"Okay." Hugh followed his grandfather into the kitchen.
Soon, Swati called Amita on her cell phone.
"How's life?" he asked.
"Good," she said, not wanting to get into details.
"How's the project coming along?"
"It's getting there. I just have to fix a few bugs."
"When can I see it?
"Soon," she promised.
The two talked until Alan announced it that dinner was ready.
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At the dinner table, Suruli made the sign for 'dad'. He was used to Charlie being at the dinner table.
"He is working somewhere else," Amita said. "He'll be back before you know it."
The child pouted and refused to eat.
"Just wrap it up, and give it to him when he's hungry," Alan suggested.
Amita reluctantly got up to wrap Suruli's food. Eventually, the child made the sign for cookies, but Amita gave him dinner to his annoyance. He refused the food and wanted cookies. Eventually, she gave him a bath, put on his pajamas, and read him a story. She had started getting easier books about things he liked. Tonight was not a good night. He barely paid attention and seemed distracted. So, with a sigh, Amita put him in his crib.
"Goodnight." She kissed his forehead, turned off the lights, and left the room.
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Amita worked late into the night on the project after helping Hugh with his math homework. Charlie called, right after the plane landed.
"Hey!" Charlie said.
"How was the flight?" Amita asked.
"Smooth."
"Good."
"How's everyone? How'd they take it?"
"Fine, though Suruli missed you at dinner," Amita said.
Charlie walked out of the tunnel that lead from the exit of the plane. "Tell him and Hugh I'll see them again soon."
"I will."
"I'm..barely going to have time to keep in touch," Charlie told her.
"You're going to be quite busy?"
"Yeah."
"Charlie, Suruli hit another kid today," Amita told him. "In the park. He needs to learn social skills somehow."
"Maybe we could arrange playdates with colleagues at Cal Sci?" Charlie suggested " I know several professors with young children."
"He'll end up hitting his play dates," Amita worried. "He's very anti social right now, and the developmental delay does not explain that."
"He's just being a two year old," Charlie said for the umpteenth time to Amita's exasperation.
"I'm taking him to occupational therapy."
"Let's see what the other developmental pediatrician says," Charlie said, not thinking that it was a good idea to take him to an occupational therapist.
"Just think of it as him having another adult to play with," Amita said, hoping this approach would work. After some more strained conversation, they said their goodbyes, and hung up.
With a sigh, Amita poured herself some more wine and went to bed.
TBC