Straddling the Line(49)

"Yeah. I was going to ask if you'd come out here and meet me."

Encouraged, she curved her lips into a half smile. "Well, it's fortunate that I'm here."

"You didn't tell me why you came."

"Oh, that." She scratched the side of her nose, nervous now that the  ball was in her court. "I brought some things with me. I don't want you  to get mad."

"I'm not mad, Haven. Show me what you brought."

She led him over to the dining room table. "As you know, I have dual  degrees. One is in journalism, the other in special education. I spent  some time working with students with learning disabilities."

He stared down at the table. "So what is all this . . . stuff?"         

     



 

She lifted her gaze to his. "It's an assessment. And with your  permission, I'd like to do an assessment on you. I'm not a professional,  Trevor. Not even close to it. But I did plenty of these during my  internship, and I know how to assess learning disabilities like  dyslexia. I know you can read."

Trevor sucked in a breath. "I can read, Haven. Sort of. I can't read well. I get mixed up. It frustrates me."

"Okay. So let me do this assessment and let's see where you stand. I  really think I can help you, or at least guide you to the right  resources and people who can help you."

He sat down at the table. She sat in the chair next to him and waited  for him to gather his thoughts. The one thing she'd learned was  patience. This had to come when he was ready.

Finally, he started. "My dad was illiterate. He couldn't read at all. He  worked as a laborer. My mom tried to help him, but she didn't know  about it until much later in their marriage, because he hid it from her.  When she tried to help him, or encourage him to finish school, he got  angry." He looked out the door toward the deck. "He was always angry. At  her, and at me. He'd lash out at us all the time."

"Did he hit you?"

"No. It was always verbal. But it was loud and all the damn time."

"You had no escape."

Trevor shook his head. "I hung out there in the living room watching TV  with my mom, listening to the old man rant and rave. And with every  beer, he'd get louder and louder. He was just an unhappy son of a bitch,  and took it out on us.

"She finally couldn't take his outbursts and she left. It was rough for a  while. She had to work two jobs to make ends meet until she met my  stepdad. Then things got better."

"Did you ever see him after that?"

"No. He didn't want to be around me, I guess. Or whatever. I have no  idea what happened to him. I can't say I missed him all that much, and  when my mom remarried, my stepdad was a much nicer guy. But then I  realized I couldn't read, and I felt like I was going to turn out just  like my dad."

Haven felt such sympathy for what Trevor had gone through. "Because you got frustrated and angry, too."

"Yeah. So I hid it from everyone. I was determined not to turn out like  my old man. I never wanted anyone to know. I could fake it pretty easy.  And I had the charm thing going, you know? I was nice enough and I could  read just enough to get by."

"It must have been so frightening for you to try to hide this secret all these years. No one knew?"

"My brother did. He helped me out with homework. God, he's so fucking  smart. I'd have never made it without him. And my mom would try to help,  but she didn't know the extent of what was wrong with me. She'd already  gone through so much with my dad. I didn't want her to have to deal  with my shit, too."

She laid her hand over his. "Trevor. Nothing is wrong with you. If my  guess is correct, your brain is just wired differently and you have to  learn to use that difference in how you read and comprehend. There's  nothing wrong with you. Understand?"

He shrugged. "So what are these tests?"

"There are several evaluations of comprehension, along with family  history, that'll help me determine what might possibly be hindering your  ability to read at an appropriate level."

He got up, went into the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Do you want one?"

"Sure."

He handed one to her, then opened his and took a long swallow. "Okay, then. Let's get started."

TREVOR COULDN'T RECALL EVER TAKING MORE TESTS than the ones Haven had  given him. First they'd gone over his history, including familial  history, health history, and school history. He'd been honest with  her-hell, more honest with her than he'd ever been with anyone before.

Then there'd been the testing. Reading comprehension, vocabulary, verbal  reasoning and spelling, math, and several other tests. He was sure he'd  failed them all, because that was what tests brought to mind. Sweat.  Fear. Failure.

Tests had always equaled failure. But this time, he wasn't going to be  able to charm or bullshit his way out of them. He was as honest as he  could be with his answers. And there were a lot of things he just  couldn't get through. But Haven was patient with him, and didn't once  look at him like he was stupid.

After they were finished, he'd gone out and gotten them something to eat  while Haven worked on evaluating the tests. She'd taken a break to eat  with him, then gone back to the evaluation, while he'd watched some TV,  but he wasn't really concentrating. He probably wouldn't until he'd  gotten the verdict.         

     



 

Though he already knew the verdict, didn't he? He was a failure. He was stupid.

Nothing he didn't already know, right?

And the two of them still hadn't reconnected on a personal level, so  there was a wall between them that needed to be scaled. He hadn't  figured out how he was going to start that conversation.

One thing at a time, right?

"Trevor."

He turned off the TV and came over to the dining room. "Yeah."

"Sit down."

He swallowed, hard, and took a seat, feeling as nervous as he always had every time he'd taken a test.

"I've gone over your tests, and I'm going to tell you again I don't do  this for a living, so it's not a professional evaluation."

"Okay. Just tell me."

"This is going to be somewhat detailed, so bear with me. It's important  to give you a comprehensive overview, so you understand what you're  dealing with."

"Okay."

She went over every test with him, showing him where he'd done well and  where he hadn't. She was thorough and took her time, making sure he  understood what she was talking about. She didn't speed through it, and  he made sure he stopped her if something didn't make sense. She was also  honest-brutally so-and he appreciated it. This was what he'd dreaded  for so many years, but also what he'd desperately needed.

Someone to help him.

"You have very good verbal abilities and a good grasp of vocabulary.  Which is why you're so well-spoken, and likely why you've managed to fly  under the radar so well all these years." She gave him an encouraging  smile.

"Where you struggle is with reading comprehension and spelling. Though  honestly, Trevor, it's not as dire as you might think. You have good  memory skills, and I think with some professional assistance, you could  work through the reading comprehension issues."

He waited, and when she didn't say anything else, he asked, "That's it?"

"It's a lot more complex than that. It sounds to me like your father was dyslexic, a trait that's been known to be inherited."

"I have dyslexia." Just saying the word made his stomach clench.

"It would appear so. Again, I'm not a professional, but I did train for  this and did some diagnostic work with learning-disabled adults. But  yes, based on these test results, you're dyslexic. It's not a severe  form, but because you've hidden it all these years and haven't sought  help, it just seems worse to you. It's something you can learn to work  with. The problem is, you've been so frustrated with your inability to  read and write well that you just stopped, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And other people have been doing it for you all these years."

"Yeah. My agent and my lawyer."

"You need to stop that. And do you realize what a beacon of hope you  could be for struggling youth, especially those who look up to you? If  you come out publicly and say you have dyslexia, that it's something  you've struggled with your entire life, and that you're working on  getting help, you could help so many others."

He shook his head. "It's not something I want to discuss publicly."

"Why not? It's not something to be ashamed of, Trevor. This isn't your  father's generation any longer. Hell, it hasn't been for some time. Do  you know how many brilliant people are dyslexic? Albert Einstein had  dyslexia. And he was by no means stupid. So did Alexander Graham Bell.  Thomas Edison. Nolan Ryan, famous baseball player. George Washington,  for God's sake. And Steven freaking Spielberg."

He leaned back in the chair. "No shit."

"Yes. And scores of others. Dyslexia challenges you, but it won't defeat  you. Not if you don't let it." She grasped his hand. "You're smart,  Trevor. You were never stupid. Ever."