Meeting Uncle Billy

My brother Billy is 40 years old. He likes to cook, wear oversized clothes, eat, and make weird noises. My brother Billy is autistic and not in the savant, verbal, cute little Dustin Hoffman in "Rainman" autistic. Billy doesn't speak, instead communicates with a very limited vocabulary in sign language. He also makes communicative noises--"Ga" is the sound of a request, "dee dee dee" or "da da da" are happy noises and when he's hurt or upset, he lets out a loud, gutteral wail. In some ways I suppose, Billy is like a baby. Since Eliza was born, I've understood something about my mother's life much better. My mother identified with the movie "The Exorcist," said it wasn't a horror movie but the story of a mother who couldn't help her child. Now I understand what it's like to have a child, to love a child and to not have the faintest idea what that child is thinking, or feeling, or wanting. Hopefully, Eliza will grow to talk and love and laugh like any other lovely girl in the world. But Billy, though he laughs and has fun, will never be "normal" not in the conventional sense of the word.

Today I strapped my 2 month old daughter into the Bjorn and took the subway to Penn Station. From there we caught the Northeast Corridor train to Princeton Junction. Billy lives in a group home with three other men like himself (they're referred to as "clients). The home is staffed by two workers per shift and overseen by George and Rachel, a young couple who lives within the house in a seperate apartment. The idea is that people like Billy live in a home with a family so they can feel like anybody who lives in a suburban house. I must say I do find Billy's "family" a good deal more functional than most.

Billy saw me through several stages of my pregnancy but no one knows if he understands that I hadn't been overeating pizzas. After Eliza was born, my father sent Billy a photo of me with the baby. I was told Billy simply handed the picture to Rachel, with a look that seemed to say "What am I supposed to do with this?"

So today we set out to to introduce Eliza to her Uncle.

It was raining pretty heavily when I got off the train in Princeton. Eliza's a good baby and she slept the entire train ride. She was still asleep as I approached my mother's blue Ford Taurus in the parking lot. My mom got out and walked to the back driver's side door of the car and opened it so I could put Eliza in the car seat.

When we arrived at the house, Billy and the other three clients were seated in the living room with the two staff members, the TV blaring. I walked up to Billy and I have to say he looked pretty damn confused. Confused that I was there, I'm sure, but also confused by this little person wriggling in my arms. Mom came up behind me and Billy started his ritual questions. He cradled his arms in front of his chest, the sign for baby.

"Yes Billy," my mom signed. "That's Lisa's baby."

Billy looked at me, and looked back at my Mom, his eyebrows knit together. He got up and walked into the kitchen. We followed him.

He pointed to the sink where there were bags of frozen fish and potatoes defrosting. "Ga," he said.

"Yes, you're eating here," Mom signed. Sometimes my mother will pick Billy up and take him out to dinner. He was asking her if this was one of those nights.

"Red and Brown house," Billy signed.

"February 24th," my mother signed back, the date of Billy's next visit to her reddish brown house.

Understanding, at least, that we hadn't come to take him anywhere, Billy relaxed a bit and sat at the kitchen table. He looked at me and started laughing, pointed to me and signed "Lisa, tickle." I smiled back, Billy's stiffness now gone and he was just my brother, happy to see us.

"No Billy, she can't tickle you with the baby in her arms," my mother said. "Do you know who this is?" She pointed to Eliza who was looking at Billy, a calm smile on her face.

Billy again made the sign for baby.

"That's right, Lisa's baby," Mom signed. Together she and I spelled Eliza's name out in sign language. Billy repeated it, probably understood that was the baby's name was Eliza, but didn't really care. My mom saw Eliza smile at Billy and touched the baby's cheek.

"She seems to like him," My mom said and then Eliza looked at her and smiled. "Oh she smiled at me, you like me now?" My Mom said, rubbing her knuckle under Eliza's chin. Eliza smiled again. "Maybe she likes me now," Mom said to me. At Mom's last visit, Eliza screamed whenever Mom held her.

"Look Billy, this is your niece," Mom said, pointing to the baby and signing Eliza's name again.

He wouldn't look at Eliza directly, as though my daughter was Medusa and he might turn into stone and not be able to get his mouth open to eat if he looked at her.

"Oh this is funny," Mom said to me. "He wouldn't look at you when you were a baby."

Billy would glance in our direction and he'd steal glances at the baby but he seemed almost afraid to turn his face towards her. He started laughing and making some of his happy noises and Eliza laughed with him. Kids react one of two ways to Billy: some are intrigued by him, others deathly afraid. At only two months, it's too early to say into which category Eliza will fall but looking at her with him today, watching her wide-eyed and smiling, I hope she'll fall into the first category. Mom was excited, snapped a photo of myself and Eliza together, then another of Billy smiling. Billy rarely smiles for photos, will usually put on his most "I'm mentally challenged" face whenever you whip out a camera.

Right after Mom snapped Billy's picture and I was about to ask her to take one of the three of us, Billy grabbed my hand. This is a game with Billy, he'll grab my hand or my wrist and pull my hand towards him. Mom then has to say "No, you leave her hand alone." Of course, both of my hands were still holding up my baby so this was not a good time for this particular game.

"Not with the baby," I said, firmly, not too afraid.

But he wouldn't let go and Billy doesn't know his own strength. He kept his hand wrapped around my wrist and tried to pull it towards him.

Quickly Mom grabbed Eliza so I could extract myself from Billy's death grip. Both of us were saying, "No, not with the baby." Billy laughed, completely not understanding. Perhaps from the firm tone in my voice or the abrupt way my mother grabbed her, Eliza started to cry.

"Oh no, he scared the baby," Mom said. I managed to wriggle my hand free and took Eliza back. Still crying, I walked her over to a loveseat in the alcove off the kitchen and sat down with her. She kept crying, even as I shushed in her ear and tucked her head against my chest.

Mom came over, "I took her from you too fast, didn't I?"

I was calm, not worried at all. "You did the right thing. He was grabbing at my hands and you took the baby so she wouldn't get hurt. You acted quickly, you had to."

Eliza looked at my mother and started to cry harder. My mom touched the side of her head. "And we were doing so well today."

"It's okay, Mom. It's about time for her to eat anyway." Mom slid her forefinger across the top of Eliza's head and walked back over to Billy. Billy looked at her and grinned, completely oblivious to what had just happened. He then signed, "Baby cry."

"Yes Billy, babies cry."

Billy cast his eyes down to the floor.

"It's okay, Billy. She's fine," I said.

This seemed to cheer him up or perhaps it was all my imagination. People might wonder if having Billy around my daughter is dangerous but it's not more dangerous than having your child around a large dog and in New York City, I encounter large dogs in my elevator every day. Billy's not going to purposely hurt a baby or any child. Yes, grabbing at my hands when I'm holding her was not the smartest thing to do. But my mother and I were both there to diffuse the situation, we both knew what to do and in the future I'll probably make sure my hands aren't in grabbing distance when I'm holding the baby around Billy. It's that simple. You have a brother like Billy your whole life and you know what to do. Perhaps C would have been mortified, perhaps his mother would have freaked out but I know Billy and I know how to handle him. It's a shame to have to say you have to keep a distance from your only brother, but I do and it's not a big deal. When Eliza's bigger, things will be different but for now, I know the boundaries.

Afterwards my mother and I went to the Hyatt to have tea in their spacious atruim lobby. A small stream and waterfall runs through the multileveled lobby, ending in a goldfish pond by the open hotel restaurant. I found a couch and set Eliza down on it in her little white Winne the Pooh snowsuit. I went to look for the restroom by the hotel desk but couldn't find it. I knew where it was in relation to the restaurant, so I went down the steps, passing Mom and Eliza on the way. Mom was sitting over Eliza, moving her little arms and legs. They seemed happy, this was good. I proceeded around the goldfish pond into the bathroom. When I came back up, I saw Mom holding Eliza up against herself and thought for a moment all was fine. Then I heard the wailing and started to move towards them faster.

"We were having a good time," Mom said. "She was laughing and I was moving her little arms and legs. I sang 'Naughty Lady of Shady Lane' to her and she was trying to talk to me. Then the waiter came with the tea and scared her."

I took Eliza and sat down. She continued crying against my chest.

"She's already afraid of strangers," Mom said. "She's so aware."

"Maybe," I said, not entirely convinced.

I pulled a receiving blanket out ot the diaper bag, draped it over myself and started to feed my daughter. It was the first time I nursed her in public. I noticed several hotel staff walk by, and perhaps it was only my imagination, but they seemed to scowl at me. Too bad.

"I always comfort her with the boob," I said. "Am I creating problems?"

"I did," Mom said and this made me feel better. I don't have weird associations with eating. "She's too young for you to worry about that anyway."

I nodded. "Do you think Billy understood what was going on today?" I asked.

Mom shrugged, poured herself more tea. "I don't know."

"Yeah," I said. "Me neither."

Several people asked me before I took Billy to see Eliza, would he know that this was his niece? I said then what I say now, I don't know what he's knows, I never have. But I was there, I saw them together, I know. Today I introduced my daughter to her Uncle and she smiled at him. And for a moment there, the lights were shining, Bedford Falls was well, Superman had averted another world disaster, whatever. Today was a good day.