CHAPTER NINE
Emmet
By the middle of January Mom still hadn’t gotten the dog for Jeremey, which logically I understood was how this process went, but practically the situation was frustrating. Though Jeremey had good days as well as bad days, New Year’s Eve being one of the better ones, he still struggled more than he should. He had another round of bad depression around the tenth of January, forcing him to stay first in bed and then in the apartment for several days, missing work and most activities.
I didn’t take off work this time, though I wanted to. Jeremey insisted it would upset him more to think every time he had a bad round of depression I would get less work done, and so we’d reached a compromise. Darren came over to be my stand-in.
David stayed with him too, but there was only so much he could do, and Jeremey did need someone more able-bodied around him. Darren did have some physical limitations, but not as many as David, and between the two of them they could get a lot of nursing done for Jeremey when his depression kept him bedridden.
David had become close with Darren, so much so that I got jealous because I thought maybe David wanted to replace me as his favorite Blues Brother. David had said this idea was ridiculous, who could replace Elwood? But Darren helped him a lot, he told me, because he knew about software for people with disabilities, plus he understood David’s situation. Also I stopped being jealous when I learned David had used his superpower, which was annoying people until they told him things they otherwise wouldn’t tell anyone, and he’d super-powered Darren into confessing what had upset him on New Year’s Eve. When I heard the secret David had discovered, I wanted Darren over to The Roosevelt as much as possible.
One of the problems with our population, autistic people and people with disabilities and depression and people not on the mean in general, is that everyone else doesn’t care about us or think about us at all. Why this is a problem is because when able-bodied people on the mean don’t think about you or care about you, when you need things, they don’t listen. And people like Darren and David need a lot of things, more than people on the mean. I need a lot of things too, but I’m a different case because I’m high functioning. Plus I’m what my mom calls a poster child. I am not on a poster and I am not a child, but this means I am a good example, better than the usual, and this means people want to help me because I look and sound the way they think is right, the way people are supposed to be.
Who people don’t want to help is Stuart, who yells all the time, even though he can’t help it.
I have a difficult time with Stuart myself, to be honest. I know he can’t help how he is, but his disability and mine don’t always mesh well. It doesn’t help that ever since the Roosevelt Blues Brothers made our video he’s decided he and I should be best friends, which is something I don’t want. I think he wants to be a Roosevelt Blues Brother too, and he’s definitely not one. I feel bad saying it, but I could never be with him the way I am with David and Darren and Jeremey. He’s too intense, too loud. He needs to be friends with Cameron, who is also loud and intense sometimes.
My reluctance to be with Stuart only proved my point, though. If Stuart didn’t have family with money, he would be in big trouble because he would be somewhere like Icarus. There aren’t many places in society for someone with disabilities such as his, and the places that weren’t The Roosevelt are scary. Group homes like Icarus rely on public funds, and public funds are threatened because people in government decide we don’t need it or are spending it badly. None of the people who decide these things go to Icarus and look at the residents. Or the walls with big cracks. They don’t notice there are no pictures or all the rooms are sad-feeling, or all the games are broken. They don’t talk to the staff, who are young and inexperienced and frustrated. They read reports by people who want to do other things with the money that is meant to be spent on our population, then make decisions convenient for their plans. My mom says they avoid looking too closely at us so they don’t disturb their consciences. I think she’s right.
The problem is, a lot happens when people don’t regard you as a real person. They think they can ignore you, and worse, they think they can use you. Sometimes they think they can use you the way a staff member was using a resident on New Year’s Eve, when Darren walked in and caught the staff member assaulting her.
He’d heard her crying out in her room, and though to most people it had sounded like the same kind of yelling as always, Darren knew the difference, and he went in because he thought she was hurt. When he saw what was happening to her, he started shouting too and turned on the alarm on his iPad. The staff member assaulting the resident had swung at him and tried to break his tablet. When the other staff had come, at first the assaulter had blamed the assault on Darren, but since they’d seen him in the lounge five minutes before, and since the female resident also accused the staff member, no one bought the lie. The staff member had been taken away by the police, and the resident to the hospital.
Darren had been offered a session with an emergency counselor and some anxiety medication, and given an extra dessert. This was all anyone had done to soothe him after what he’d seen.
This was why Sally was so upset, because she’d come into the middle of this mess and had seen how poorly the aftermath was being handled. Then she’d heard it was the fourth assault to have happened at Icarus in the past three years.
David wanted to get Darren out of Icarus, and in the meantime, he brought him over to The Roosevelt as often as he could. I think he told his dad, because Bob was always telling Darren to stay over whenever he wanted and had a funny look on his face that kind of matched the guilty emotion card in my deck, even though it made no sense because Bob hadn’t done anything to be guilty about. Darren had stayed over three more times in our apartment, borrowing Jeremey’s room. If it weren’t for Jeremey’s depression, I would have thought more seriously about taking him as our roommate for good and seeing if we could work out a deal for the rent. But when Jeremey’s depression came back so strongly, he had to have his own space, and me mine. While Darren could visit, he couldn’t stay with us all the time. It wouldn’t be healthy for any of us.
Darren was great as a nurse, though, and he and David were perfect together with Jeremey. David always messed up the apartment when he was in it, knocking things over and leaving them out, but Darren went around behind him and picked them up, and he read all my labels and followed all the instructions because he knew they were important to me. I felt okay about leaving Jeremey when they were there with him.
It didn’t mean I didn’t think about Jeremey the entire time I was at Workiva, though, and I had a harder time with my job in general. Usually I’m a steady worker, and my supervisor tells me how much work I get done in a voice I know means she’s impressed with how well I’m doing, but not in January. One day she called me into her office for a meeting, and she asked me if anything was wrong. “You seem distracted and unfocused, and that’s not like you.”
I had to rock for a minute before I could answer, but I didn’t mind rocking in front of Kaya. She’s kind and understands rocking and humming help me focus. She waited patiently while I figured out how to answer her question. “I’m fine, but I’m distracted by a lot of problems with my friends and my boyfriend, and with the residential facility where I live.”
“I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling down. Do you want to tell me about your problems? I would love to listen.” When I didn’t answer right away, she added, “We could go to the ball pit first, if that would help.”
The ball pit was something Workiva had installed since I started working there, and I was proud of it because it was my idea. There are other companies that have stress-relieving things such as adult play areas, and a few have ball pits, but Workiva built the ball pit for me. Kaya says they’re appreciative to have a brilliant worker like me in this area and want to do what they can to retain me. I can take my laptop and work in there if I want, but mostly I enjoy going in there and doing some thinking. It’s like a sensory sack at work. Except sometimes other staff go in with me, and we play together.
Kaya went with me now, and we had fun jumping into the balls, throwing them into the air and at the walls. We never throw them at one another, but sometimes we play catch. Once we got done jumping around, we sat in opposite corners and tossed blue balls back and forth. I only wanted to toss blue balls today, and she said she didn’t mind.
“Can you tell me what kind of problems your friends and Jeremey are having now?” she asked as we threw the balls.
I decided I could. “Jeremey is having bad depression again. He can barely do his job with David, and he isn’t even watching Ellen much anymore. My mom is trying to get him a service dog, but it’s expensive and takes a long time. I wanted to help, but it costs a lot of money. My friend Darren lives in a bad residential house. He wants to live in The Roosevelt, but it costs too much money and he doesn’t have any, and his parents don’t have much at all. I wish I could help him, but I think I’m going to have to pay for Jeremey to live at The Roosevelt soon. Which is fine because I want to marry him. But I don’t know how his insurance will work if we get married. And I still can’t afford a dog and his bill at The Roosevelt. And The Roosevelt is having trouble too because of the state budget changes and because of shady backroom deals.” I squeezed the ball I was meant to throw tight in my hands, staring at it. “Do you think Workiva would pay me more if I worked harder? I could come to the ball pit less and eat my lunch faster. If I skipped my dessert, I could save five minutes. Also if I ate in the break room instead of the cafeteria, this would account for another five minutes. With ten minutes less ball pit time, that’s twenty minutes a day. One hundred minutes a week. In a month I could save six more hours. Do you think Workiva would pay me more for that?”
Kaya was looking at me. It was a complicated expression, so I waited to see what she said, but it took a long time for her to talk. When she did, her voice sounded funny. “Why don’t you let me talk to some people first and see what I can do without you having to give up your lunch or your ball pit time? We want you to relax and be productive, Emmet. You’re an important part of our Workiva family. You help us a great deal, and we want to help you, and the people you love.”
“They both need complicated things. I’ve thought about this a lot. I have done a great deal of math on the subject. I can show you my equations. The issue is quite complex.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Kaya wiped at her eye. “Oh, Emmet. There’s nobody like you in the world. You’re one of a kind, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I didn’t understand what she meant, so I nodded. “Okay.”
“You told me your mother was working on the service dog problem? Would you mind if I spoke to her?”
I didn’t mind, and I told her that. But she wasn’t done. She said she wanted to talk to Bob too, and the staff at The Roosevelt, and Darren.
“I have an idea. I have several ideas, in fact, but I don’t want to share them yet until I have more facts for you. I definitely want to help keep The Roosevelt solvent, though. I had no idea it was in trouble.”
This seemed logical to me, so I told her it was fine, I didn’t mind waiting. But I realized I might have accidentally told secrets. “I can’t remember if I was supposed to tell you about The Roosevelt being in financial trouble or not.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be discreet.” She held up a blue ball. “Do you want to play some more?”
“Yes, please.”
When I returned to my desk a half hour later, I felt much more relaxed the rest of the afternoon. This is because Kaya is a good manager and knows how to get her employees to do their work, and when they can’t work, she doesn’t shout at them, she figures out why they aren’t working and helps get their troubles out of the way. She hadn’t been able to remove my obstacles exactly, but she did make it seem less overwhelming, and it was enough.
I didn’t think about the problem anymore through the rest of the workday, and it didn’t bother me as much at home that night, either. I knew the issue was still there, but talking to her made me feel better, and I knew Kaya was good with ideas. I decided I would give her a day or two to come up with potential solutions, and in the meantime I would not worry about those subjects as much.
I found out she wasn’t simply good at coming up with ideas. She was great at coming up with ideas.
“I didn’t want to tell you about it until I talked to my supervisor,” Kaya told me as she came to my office the next week to give me the news. “But Workiva has a new outreach goal to do community service projects, and they’ve earmarked funding for those endeavors. Each team is responsible for making a goal, in fact, and you’ve brought me enough for our entire division. So I took my idea to the higher-ups, and they gave me the green light. I want to make The Roosevelt my project. In fact, that’s what I want to call it. The Roosevelt Project. We’re going to use the money to help your mom pad the grants she has and get Jeremey a dog, and Darren and David are going to help me help Bob make The Roosevelt more solvent. In fact, I if I can, I want to help him realize a dream he hasn’t told any of you about because he’s been so focused on keeping the doors open on the one building he already has. It turns out he never wanted to make only one Roosevelt. He always intended to take The Roosevelt statewide, to make other independent-living condominiums. The trouble, of course, is the private companies taking over from the state-run hospitals and group homes don’t want to operate like he does. They want to make profits or break even, and his model requires more investment and less profit. He uses some pretty colorful language to describe what they’re doing, but he’s out of money and energy to make his model successful. I want to give him a boost of both, through this program.”
It was a good idea. I still wasn’t exactly sure how it all worked, though. “You mean Workiva will just give the money away to Jeremey and to Bob?”
“Yes and no. Workiva is a big company, with offices in more than Ames. When they do a project such as this, they get to count it as a tax write-off, which saves them money. But it also helps connect them to the community, and in the case of Darren, it might help find them a new worker. Maybe even David. They appreciate the kind of image this outreach gives them too, what it says about them. Meanwhile, Jeremey and David and Darren get jobs, Bob gets help for a project he loves. Everyone gets something in the end. It’s a big trade.”
“What types of jobs would they do, though? Ones similar to mine?” Darren and David were both smart, but they didn’t have the degrees I did or understand tech like I did. Darren is good with computers and searches, but there’s a difference between what he does and what I do. He could definitely learn my job, but it would take a lot more training. Would I have to do that?
She pulled up a chair. “Well, no, he wouldn’t have a job like yours. Neither of them would, and Jeremey would continue to be David’s aide. They’d be working on The Roosevelt Project with me and with Bob.”
This made sense. I thought of the software David and Darren had come up with, the things they’d found that even David couldn’t afford, that Workiva could. I flapped my hands. “Kaya, will Workiva get David special tools to help him work because of his disability?”
“Of course. We support our team members.”
I laughed, and I didn’t mind that it came out like a bark. “This is great news. When do we get to tell them?”
“I thought maybe we could tell them together.”
I approved of this plan, except for one part. “Let’s not tell Jeremey about the dog, not yet. Not until we have more information.”
“Fair enough, though before any training begins, he’ll have to know, because his therapist will have to be involved. How about I take you all out to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll see if Bob can come too and explain The Roosevelt Project.” She paused, considering. “Oh, though if you want the dog to be a surprise, I suppose I need to explain it without Jeremey there, so I might have to tell you before the dinner.”
“I doubt Jeremey has the energy for a public dinner right now.” A thought occurred to me. “Does this mean Darren could live in The Roosevelt now, since he’d have a job?”
“You’ll have to ask Bob about that. And I should warn you, this will be grant money mostly, and special funding. It’s not going to be as good as your salary. Not even close.”
I understood what she was telling me, but I couldn’t help hoping it would be enough money to get Darren into The Roosevelt, or that Bob would make a special exception for him anyway.
We ended up going to Aunt Maude’s, a fancy restaurant not far from Wheatsfield. Technically we could have walked to it, but it was still pretty cold, so Bob took us in the special van David could drive his chair into, and Kaya met us there in her car. Jeremey did end up coming, which made me happy, though it meant Kaya would have to tell me more about the dog later. I was glad he felt well enough to leave the apartment.
Kaya had our table ready when we arrived, and she had an excited face on. She bounced when she walked and her smile was extra big.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” She shook everyone’s hands, though she only bowed to Darren, and he bowed back. Bob gave her a big hug, and then everyone sat down around the table.
I thought it would be Kaya who made the announcement, but it was Bob, and he started right away as soon as the waitress took our orders. “We called you guys here because Workiva has given The Roosevelt an offer, and I’ve accepted it. With Kaya as our coordinating supervisor, we’re going to start something called The Roosevelt Project, an effort Workiva will help fund. We’re going to try to not only make The Roosevelt more affordable and accessible to more residents, but we’re going to find a way to make more places like The Roosevelt not only in Ames but in the whole state of Iowa. The thing is, though, we’re going to need help. To start, we’re going to need to go to the Ames City Council and get some backing from them, and the state level as well eventually. But we’re also going to need manpower. This is where Workiva comes in. They’re offering salaries for some entry-level organizing positions. It’s part-time work, and it’s on-the-job training. But I’ll be there, and so will Kaya, and because it’s his department, Emmet as well.”
When Darren and David and Jeremey seemed confused, Kaya continued. “We want to offer you jobs, Darren and David. Jeremey, we know you already have your hands full as David’s aide, though you of course would be accommodated on site as part of his team.” She passed two binders to them, with big, easy-grip tabs and plastic inserts so they could turn the pages easier. “You can take your time reading the job descriptions, salary, and benefits packages. Unfortunately, not much is negotiable, but you’re welcome to go to human resources and see what you can do. It’s a little different because of the program we’re using, but I don’t want you to think you can’t try.”
Bob cleared his throat and spoke again as Darren and David stared at the notebooks. “Also, I wanted to add for Darren, as a perk of the project, housing is included. Now, we need to discuss it, because what I was thinking was having you room with David. Which, if you don’t want to, David, we can consider another arrangement, but you’ve been telling me you didn’t like living alone, and—”
“That’s fine.” David’s voice broke as he looked up at Darren. “I’d be happy to share my room, if he doesn’t mind. I mean, we’d need to make accommodations, set it up however Darren needed it. Dad would redesign the space. Right, Dad?”
Bob’s voice was gruff when he spoke. “Right.”
Darren didn’t glance up. He didn’t move at all, except after a long pause, he turned one of the pages in the folder in front of him. Then another. He drew a long, slow breath, then let it out. Then he signed.
Is this real?
I knew he was talking to me—I was the only one who knew his sign well enough to read that. I responded. Yes. Kaya talked to me about it at work this week. It’s all real. Not a joke.
Darren’s hands shook as he signed. But this is my dream. This is everything I dreamed of. I’m afraid I’m sleeping.
You’re not sleeping. This is a real thing.
He made a small noise, then rocked as he signed, Wait, please. He put his iPad on the table and typed, humming and rocking. Everyone at the table waited, glancing at one another as he typed. Then he hit play, and the computer’s voice spoke for him.
“Thank you. Yes. I want to take this job and move into The Roosevelt and be David’s roommate. Thank you to everyone for this. Thank you. Thank you.”
Bob cleared his throat again, but his voice was still gruff when he spoke. “You’re welcome, son.”
Everyone wiped at their eyes, except for Darren, who kept rocking and humming softly. I didn’t wipe my eyes either. But when Jeremey put his hand on my leg, then touched my hand, I took hold of his palm before he could give me the signal to ask if we could hold hands.
I knew he was going to ask. And I wanted to hold his hand too.