Rehab is now complete and Auggie, reluctantly, heads back to Glencoe for a family celebration. This is the first chapter of several where Auggie leaves the relative seclusion of the rehabilitation center and is thrust into the real world. Along the way he learns things about his family and himself. I hope that you enjoy meeting his family in a different setting. We've met all but Anthony before, but I'm not sure that you'll find him as charming as the other boys.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership of Auggie, just my view of how he came to be the person he became in Covert Affairs.
Chapter Thirteen – Of Hearth and Home
Friday, September 5, 2008 – 10:30 AM
"Mr. Anderson?" A strangely accented male voice asked as soon as Auggie had extracted himself from the taxi.
"Yes," Auggie replied with reservation.
"I'm with Traveler's Assistance and will be accompanying you to security and then someone else will assist you on to your departure gate. You have luggage?" Auggie could not place the accent, and frankly didn't care where his savior had come from. He had been dreading this part of the trip back home. He wasn't looking forward to any of it, but how he was to get to the plane had panicked him. His mother had promised assistance, but he'd had no idea of the form that assistance would take.
And so began his solo journey back to Glencoe, Illinois for the family reunion. On one level he was eager to see his parents, brothers, and their assorted wives and children. On another he had his reservations that this was a good idea. He had officially 'graduated' from 'blind school', as he'd come to think of his stay at the rehabilitation center, a week ago. He'd spent the last few days alone in his apartment. He'd taken most of his meals at the café down the block and was looking forward to his mother's cooking. He hoped that a few good meals would be worth the annoyance that traveling created.
He settled back into his first class seat. Even though he had insisted that coach would be just fine, his parents had insisted on flying him back home in first class comfort. He spent most of his two-and-a-half hour flight remembering all that he could of the layout of his parent's house and yard, and the placement of the furniture the last time he was there. He was happy that his mother wasn't one to change furniture arrangements often; the actual furniture may have changed a few times but not the placement. The living and dining rooms had been arranged the same way for as long as he could remember. He felt that he could manage those rooms and the kitchen without too much problem. Only problem he saw was if someone left something out of place in the living or family rooms. He thought that the probability of that was great with everyone there and all of his nieces and nephews, too. And so he resigned himself to looking like a bumbling idiot for part of the long Labor Day weekend. He just hoped that he wouldn't hurt himself or one of the kids.
Finally it was his time to deplane. He'd waited until most of the other passengers had departed, then rose from his seat and slowly found his way to the front of the plane. The only thing that he'd carried on had been his cane and that was firmly clutched in his right hand. As he reached the ramp into the terminal, he shook out his cane and tapped his way to the exit. Someone was supposed to be waiting for him at the end of the ramp. He didn't know if it would be another member of Traveler's Assistance or if TSA had allowed one of his family members to come greet him. As he exited the ramp he heard an unfamiliar voice say his name. When he'd acknowledged her, she stepped forward and took his arm. He'd quickly taken her arm and said, "Works better for me this way. I need to go to baggage claim, please."
Auggie and his guide stepped off the escalator and veered right toward the nearest baggage carousel. "This is the baggage claim carousel for your flight. Do you need assistance finding your bag?"
"No, someone should be meeting me here in a few minutes. I'll be fine now. Thanks for your assistance," he said extending his hand towards the woman who had helped him with, what he hoped was a five dollar bill, discretely nestled in his palm.
As his guide shook his hand, he heard his name being called.
"Austin," he exclaimed with joy turning to the sound of his brother's voice. He spread his arms for the hug he knew was coming. Shortly Austin wrapped his arms about Auggie.
"Good to see you again, Augs. What's your bag look like?"
"Packed what I think is a black wheelie bag, medium sized. It's got what I was told is a bright orange tag on it. If that fails to locate it, it's also got a tag that beeps when I press this button." He pulled a small pad from his jeans pocket with 6 buttons on it.
"Well, now, ain't that neat," Austin said grabbing the device from Auggie's hand. "How's it work?" He placed the pad back into Auggie's hand.
"It works on the same principle as a remote fob for a car. If one of the items with one of the tags on it is within 30 feet of me, it will beep when I press the corresponding button on the pad. Big help in finding stuff that I've forgotten where I set down."
"Ah, the baggage is starting to appear on the carousel. Let's see if I can locate your bag now." He took a step away from where Auggie stood. Auggie reached out for his brother's arm, but met with air.
"Um, Austin, you gonna leave me standing here all alone?"
"Well, you do look kinda cute standing there leaning on your cane next to that pillar. You're kinda out of the way there. I'll be back in a few minutes."
True to his word, Austin returned to Auggie's side in a few minutes towing Auggie's bag behind him. This time he touched Auggie's left hand like Auggie had told him to weeks before. As Auggie grasped his upper arm, Austin proclaimed, "I'm sorry Augs, we've got a bit of a hike to get to my car."
"That's okay. I need the exercise."
An hour later, Austin pulled to a stop and turned off the ignition. "We're here, Augs. Are you ready for this?"
"Yeah. As ready as I can be."
"I'll take your bag up to your room. Mom thought that you'd be most comfortable in our old room at the end of the hall upstairs. Do you want me to guide you up to the door? Or, do you want to do it on your own?"
"Where did you stop in relation to the back door? I assume we're in the drive and not on the street."
"When you get out, if you follow the car toward the trunk and cross behind it you'll be right at the back stairs."
"I think I can handle that. Thanks, Austin."
"For what?" Austin asked clearly surprised.
"Just thanks for being my brother." There were so many things lately that he could thank his brother for: getting good prices for his car and motorcycle, for volunteering to come retrieve him from the airport, but mostly for letting him fend for himself in getting into the house he knew so well. He exited the car and headed toward the porch. He easily found the stair rail and ascended the stairs with confidence. Two quick strides across the porch deck and his hand easily found the door handle. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open and entered the mud room.
Three more strides and he passed by the washer and dryer on his left and the row of hooks and cubbies on his right. If he'd worn a jacket he'd take it off and hang it on the last hook near the pocket door into the kitchen. He let his right arm lightly brush along the kitchen peninsula as he entered fully into the kitchen. To his left was the downstairs half bath. Straight ahead, in a bay windowed alcove was the breakfast area.
"Mom? Dad?" he called out. "Anyone in the kitchen?"
"I'll be there in a minute, August," he heard his mother answer from the front of the house. "I'm here and I'm fixin' to hug you," she said a few moments later as she wrapped her arms around her youngest son. "It's so good to have you home."
"It's good to be home, Mom." He kissed the top of her head as he hugged her back. "Pot roast for supper?"
"Yes. I know that it's your favorite."
"How long before we eat? I'm getting hungry just smelling the goodness coming from the oven."
"In a little bit. Time enough for you to go up and get settled in, and to re-acquaint yourself with the house. If you'd like, there's some fresh fruit in a bowl in the center of the breakfast table."
Auggie slowly crossed the short distance to the breakfast table and selected an apple from the assortment of oranges, apples, and pears. "Thanks, Mom." He took a bite out of the apple and headed off through the dining room and up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs he encountered Austin.
"Augs, I thought that you'd be much more comfortable in the guest room, rather than trying to sleep in our old bunk beds in our old room. First room here on your right. Adam's old room."
"What made you do that? I know our room like the back of my hand."
"I'll move you down there if you really want that." Austin said with chagrin.
"No, Austin, I'll be fine in Adam's old room, too." He smiled broadly in Austin's direction. "Just as long as you didn't leave my suitcase in the middle of the floor for me to trip over."
"Now would I do that?" Austin asked with feigned innocence.
"Yes, you would. And then stand in the doorway and laugh your head off when I fell over it."
"I didn't. Not this time, anyway." He punctuated his words with a poke to Auggie's chest. "Suitcase is on the foot of the bed on the left hand side." With that he headed down the stairs. He called up from the bottom of the steps. "I'll see you tomorrow. Jenna and I will be over for our usual Saturday night dinner."
He entered the room and slowly familiarized himself with the furniture placement. Munching on his apple as he did so, he placed his clothes and toiletries in the empty drawers of the dresser. That task completed, and his suitcase stowed in the corner beside the dresser, he ambled back downstairs and back into the kitchen.
As he entered the heart of his mother's home, he heard her ask, "Would you mind setting the table here in the kitchen, August? Plates are already on the table, but we'll need flatware, and glasses"
Even though he was a bit surprised at the request, he easily set about his task. He'd taken the glasses from their cabinet and set them on the counter. "Do you and Dad, still have milk with your evening meal?"
"Most of the time and definitely tonight. Why?"
"I can pour before taking the glasses to the table," he stated confidently.
"Sure. Milk jug's in the door, about your waist high on the right hand side." There was a hesitance in his mother's tone; as if she was uncertain of his ability to pour himself, or anyone, a beverage.
After washing his hands in the sink, Auggie took the milk container from the refrigerator, and, holding each glass near the top with his left hand and hooking his index finger slightly over the rim of the glass, he carefully poured three glasses of milk. He'd returned the jug to its place and was setting the last glass on the table when he heard his mother sniffle, and then blow her nose.
"Mom?"
"You're amazing , son, just amazing."
"Why do you say that, Mom?"
"The way that you're moving through the house, and setting the table, just subtle things give you away."
"I know this house, Mom. Nothing's changed much since I was a little kid. What did you expect? A bumbling fool?" For some reason he felt defensive; patronized by his own mother.
"I … I didn't know what to expect. Your father and I, and some of your brother's families, have gone to meet with the social worker down at the Hines VA a few times to learn about your handicap and what to expect. You're acting nowhere near how I expected. It's like you can still see."
"I've worked hard to achieve that illusion, Mom. On the flight out I went over every inch of the house and yard in my mind: How many paces from one area to another; where you've kept the dishes for years so that I could amaze you by setting the table. I'd planned to do that, Mom. I'd planned out every move and prayed that you hadn't moved anything since the last time I was here. Mom, it's not easy looking 'normal' now." He air quoted on normal. "I think that I have something to prove to you; to dad," he paused for a moment then added, "And to myself. I've gone from feeling that I'd be a burden on my family in the early days of my blindness to needing to prove to everyone that I am capable of living independently, safely."
"Why do you feel that you have something to prove, son?" his father asked from the doorway from the family room.
"Hi, dad. Didn't hear you come in."
"I've been out back in the workshop. Just came in because it was supper time." He went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. "Sit down, son. Let's finish this discussion over supper."
Auggie located the chair between his parent's seats and sat down. He removed his napkin from the napkin ring he'd placed on the plates a little bit ago and draped it over his lap. As soon as he'd completed that, he heard the plate being picked up; then a few moments later being replaced.
"Your meat is at 6, onion at 12, carrots at 3, and potato at 9," his mother said. "I've cut everything into bite sized pieces for you."
Auggie cringed a little at her statement. He thought that he'd gotten used to the cues, but it was different coming from his mother, rather than one of the aides at the rehab center, or even from the waitress at the diner.
"Thanks, Mom." Suddenly he felt like a three-year-old. He could have cut his own food, it might have been a bit awkward, but he could have done it. And if his mother had asked if he'd like her to cut his meal for him he probably would have said 'yes, please', but to automatically do it for him, that angered him. And confused him. Not half-an-hour ago she'd had him finish setting the table like he was still a capable person, now she was treating him like he was helpless. He took a deep breath, swallowed his anger, and began to eat.
"Now, what was it you were saying about having to prove something to someone?" his father asked.
"Nothing, Dad. I've got nothing to prove to anyone." He took a bite of carrot, chewed and swallowed, then asked, "What is it that you've been working on all afternoon?"
Please take the time to review. There were precious few for the last chapter and the muse is wondering if anyone is still with me. 'The Morning After' got more response so I might just leave Auggie here rather than finish this up. It's all done and ready to post. There are only four more chapters culminating with his return to the DPD.