Co-morbid

Madelyn enters the crowded reception area with deceptive stealth and purpose. All of a sudden she is right next to me, a request spilling into the space between us. A small beautiful child hugs her leg; she rests her hand on his little round head. Her other hand touches my arm. We meet each other's eyes.
In a voice barely above a whisper, yet absolutely discernible, she tells me the name of the little boy. Dominic, her next to youngest son. He is at camp for the first time. Her eldest son has been coming for several years and she is ready to entrust me with this one. She has an even younger one at home who is likely going to be a future camper, but it is to the eldest boy that our attention now turns.

Might you ask the student who will be working with Daniel to accompany me to the car and invite him to come in? Madelyn asks this as if it were the most mundane of requests. Her decision to bring in Dominic  without Daniel lets me know that a serious negotiation has already failed and that she will not allow herself the luxury of annoyance or disappointment. Daniel is the priority. His anxiety and pride blend to create this present situation, one where he will not be able to give in  and so will be forced into a default position of depriving himself rather than capitulate. It is a cycle with Daniel and one that he cannot break out of on his own accord. His autism and his anxiety combine to complicate simple events, the complication then becoming a spiral in itself, one with seemingly no way out .... this combination of two intertwined disabilities is often referred to as a "co-morbid" condition. Not a word one hears used unless it is to describe someone whose idiosyncracies  are a tad too ....idiosyncratic. One does not hear about someone who is co-morbid with shopping and driving, or with headache and nausea, or burgers and fries. No, indeed; some terminology is reserved for the best of us.
Madelyn sees the way out. She sees how she is intertwined in Daniel's spiral and is humble and wise enough to get out of the way. He needs to engage with someone who has not witnessed his being caught in his own web and his accompanying shame. He needs it to be simple, again.
Madelyn knows that she cannot even be a witness to his rescue. She steps back. I admire her. I want to tell her so. Her mothering is a dance of stepping back; like a tango, the dance always begins with a backwards step.
I send my student out. I tell her how casual to be with Daniel. No big deal, he just felt like hanging out in the car so his little brother could have some special  attention. Thanks for being such a caring big brother.
Madelyn hands Dominic over to me. I take his little hand and bring him to his group. He is welcomed and fussed over. He smiles and giggles. Madelyn leaves before anyone notices she has gone. Daniel saunters in with his student worker. I give him a glance and a nod. Nice to see you again, buddy, I say.
Nice to be here, he says.