Chapter 4

Intelligence Without Words

E.shtmlerated from searching for her shoes, Sally Crane looked again at the clock and could see she'd be late for another appointment. Traffic was heavy this time of the afternoon, and there was the tie-up at the bridge to consider.        "Joshua!" she called as sweetly as her rattled nerves would permit. "Oh, Joshua, where are you? You don't, by any chance have Mommy's shoes, now do you?" She began a search through the long, rambling house. The shoes surfaced, minus the laces, amongst a pile of magazines in the den. Discovering the door to the backyard standing wide open, Sally's search became suddenly much more urgent. The Crane's house, like many in the neighborhood, sat on a large green lawn that sloped down to a bayou. There were very few fences and no barrier between the homes and the water.        Near panic, Sally called Joshua's name loudly and began racing, barefoot, toward the bayou. Josh was a fair swimmer for an eight-year-old boy, but it was the thought of him loose in the outside world that evoked a crisis state in his mother. Josh didn't react to many ordinary things the way one would expect. For five and a half years now, he had donned the label "autistic", the source of a never-ending sorrow to his parents, who loved him intensely.        The Cranes had invested time and money in every promising treatment they could find over the years. Their son grew into a handsome child, agile and energetic, generally happy in disposition, but with an astonishing absence of attention to communication or to the daily pursuits of those around him. Mr. Crane's early success in real estate had enabled his wife to remain at home and lavish endless hours working with Joshua. In spite of the seemingly ideal environment, though, Joshua barely spoke, merely echoing a few words from what others said to him. He was clever about getting what he needed. Many sounds, sights, aromas and textures were interesting to Joshua. He simply did not put them together in way that others could understand.        Nearly to the water's edge, a movement halted Sally's downhill rush. Joshua sat contentedly in some bushes, engrossed in twirling her missing shoelaces. Frustration and fear gave way quickly to relief. Collapsing on the ground beside her son, Sally held out her arms.        "Josh, Joshua," she repeated. His dark, attractive features finally turned from the laces in his hand, and he made brief eye contact with his mother before burying his forehead into the crook of her arm. The two laughed out loud for a full minute before making their way back to the house.        Even a fanatically dedicated mother needed a break now and then; especially the mother of a child with special needs like Joshua. Sally looked forward to the quiet time she spent in the waiting area each week while Joshua attended his therapy session. It was only a sparsely furnished old trailer, but she relished the time to sit and read without the constant vigilance that Joshua required of her. Sally closed her well-worn paperback book and stretched. A glance at her watch convinced her to pack up her things and head outside.        As she approached the dolphin enclosure, Sally could see it had been a difficult session. The instructor, a twenty-something year old woman, was helping Joshua out of the water in spite of his protests. Chris had worked with Josh for over a year. She had been amazed at the changes this autistic boy had made in his therapy with the dolphins. Of all her clients, Joshua was unique in his uncanny ability to communicate with these marine mammals. Once in the pen, Joshua would become focused, even receptive to verbal and visual commands that Chris presented. He made eye contact with Chris and maintained it, all the while exchanging incomprehensible sounds with the captive dolphins. Were the dolphins an intermediary? It wasn’t clear. Today, however, the hour had seemed wasted. Josh had been distracted and generally uncooperative.        "I’m so sorry we were late today. We had to rush to get here and I’m sure that didn’t help Joshua," Sally picked up her apologies where she had left off when they had arrived nearly a half-hour late to the therapy session that afternoon.        "No, Mrs. Crane. Not a problem," Chris assured her, finally getting a towel around Josh. "I think he’s distracted by that stray dolphin who’s been hanging around our pens. It’s been behaving strangely. It seems odd for a wild dolphin to be out on its own like that and to stay so close to this area."        Both women paused to retrieve Joshua, who was edging toward the water again. "Say good-bye to Chris now, Joshua. Say good-bye," Sally directed her son as she retrieved him.        "Good-bye," Joshua echoed in a near-whisper. As he spoke he was looking toward the water where a large dolphin circled just outside the holding pen.        "Thanks, Chris," Sally said, then added, "Oh, I need to write you a check today. Is there someone in the office, now?" Chris nodded an affirmation and waved as she moved to greet her next client.        At the office window, Sally juggled her book, purse, checkbook and Josh’s towel. Her son refused to stand and wait. She was interrupted in writing the check numerous times. In desperation, Sally reached into her bag and retrieved an extra set of shoelaces. She hated to engage Joshua in such inappropriate play, but the day had been long and tiring. Joshua eagerly unrolled the laces and sat on the floor, happily spinning them. Sally had time to complete the check and then remembered that she needed to change the appointment time for the following week. When, at last, she had completed her business, she reached for Joshua’s hand, only to find that he was gone. There was no sign of her son, either in the office or anywhere outside the building.