Our son, David, is a talented little artist. We would buy him crayons and colored pencils every month because he would quickly wear them down with every drawing he created. David was a beautiful and quiet child with such a creative mind at only 9 years old. He would never cause trouble for he was always in his room drawing, coloring; only coming out whenever he presented us with another newly finished masterpiece. We would smile with pride and complimented how beautiful his new drawing was and beautiful it truly was. His illustrations were always different; some were landscapes with great detail, others were random objects he would find around the house, but one style he loved to draw the most were portraits. He would often draw portraits of me and his mother with a different facial expression striking a different pose within each picture. Most of the time, he would draw these adorable portraits of our Maltese puppy, Fuji, because he would always bring her along to his room for inspiration. We called him “Our little Da Vinci” whenever he showed us his new drawing. This always made him smile glowing with joy as he skipped away, locking himself back in his room once again to begin his next art piece. Those were the only times we would ever see him truly happy.
We had our fair share of concerns for David ever since he started grade school. My wife and I would always worry about his social life for he never made friends at his school. Hell, he would rarely talk to his own parents at home so it’s no surprise. I will admit that we have sheltered our son. We never encouraged David to go play with the neighborhood kids when they were outside. We never motivated him to make friends. I know it was mostly our fault for his introverted behavior. I guess we were just so content with the way he was that we didn’t find any reason for concern. He was our precious angel; never causing trouble, never aggressive, never angry, always innocently drawing without disturbance. Then one day his teacher contacted us expressing her concerns for David saying that he was always quiet during lunch time isolating himself from his classmates. This worried us even more. We were afraid of David being alone for the rest of his life living in isolation with only him and his sketch pad. That was when we decided to try therapy.
We didn’t bring David to therapy expecting him to be cured. We just wanted clarity. We wanted to hear that our son wasn’t a sociopath; that he just had some sort of social anxiety that will eventually fade in time. We didn’t want to find out that our son was different in the worst way possible. Before the therapy began, my wife and I met with the therapist while David was at school. She wanted to know how his behavior was at home and school, how he acted during certain situations, and asked what we did in response to his behaviors. We told her everything we experienced with David as she just sat there with a focused look on her face. Then we told her about David’s passion for art and how he would draw a new sketch by himself practically every day. This caught her attention. After we finished telling her everything we experienced with David, she gave a stern look on her face, uncrossing her legs and leaned forward.
“I am very interested in meeting with David” she said. “I would highly recommend that we begin his therapy at your earliest convenience.”
My wife responded immediately after, “What do you have about our son so far?”
She leaned back into her chair releasing a heavy exhale, “There are many possible factors that could explain his behavior. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to give you a proper assessment until I personally talk with your son.” We agreed to begin his therapy. After discussing the different methods of payment, we decided to schedule his first appointment the day after.
After the brief therapy session, we picked David up from school. On the car ride back, he remained silent. The silence was nothing out of the ordinary. When we arrived back home, David quickly got out of the car. He opened the door and was greeted by Fuji. He picked her up and ran to his room. This wasn’t odd for he would always go to his room but the frantic nature of it felt off. I knocked on the door of his room to check up on him. “David? Are you okay?” I asked. I slowly opened the door to see that he was on his desk with a blank paper and a black colored pencil in his hand. Nothing unusual.
He gave me a quick glance. “I’m fine dad.” He said, then looked back at his blank paper.
“Okay son, just checking up on you to make sure.” I replied. I looked down at Fuji sitting beside him. I smiled at her and left the room shutting the door behind me. I told my wife that he was fine. She seemed slightly relieved but still looked unsettled.
I was sitting on the couch watching TV while my wife was preparing dinner. Suddenly, we heard Fuji barking loudly from David’s room and a scream from David followed by silence. My wife and I briefly looked at each other and ran quickly to David’s room. I opened the door slowly as my wife behind me asked, “David? Are you okay?” David burst through the partially opened door and embraced his mother in tears. I opened the door completely in shock to see Fuji lying on the carpeted floor soaked in blood.
“Why did she bark at me, mommy?” He screamed. “Why was Fuji yelling at me?” I looked at David sobbing in tears with his hands covered in blood. A sharpened colored pencil was being gripped tightly in his right hand. I looked at my wife holding David with gentle streams of tears flowing down her cheeks. We looked at each other in fear from the realization that there was something seriously wrong with our son. I kneeled down to David pulling him away from his mother and held him by the shoulders.
“It’s okay David.” I said with a lump in my throat. “I know you were scared. I know. Your mom and I are going to take you to the doctor tomorrow, okay?” I held him close embracing him in my arms.
“She’s going to help you become a brave boy, okay?” I felt tears fill my eyes almost overflowing to the brink of running down my face.
“Okay dad.” He replied gasping for air from his cry while wiping the tears from his face. “I’m sorry dad.”
The next day, only silence exchanged between my wife and I. We were overwhelmed with fear and worry for our son after the incident last night. We had David sleep in our bedroom with his mother for the night while I cleaned up the corpse of our dog scrubbing the blood stained carpet that was left behind. We didn’t have David go to school that day. We wanted to keep David at home until the scheduled therapy began. Not in fear that he would stab his classmates or anything but we just didn’t want to cause any more concerns from his teacher. We buried Fuji that morning in our backyard. David was crying, putting every portrait he drew of Fuji in the burial hole. I saw my wife break into tears and held her closely. We were saddened from the terrible loss of our beloved pup but I knew my wife was not in tears from mourning. I knew she broke into tears from the fear she had for our only child. The worry that our son might be taken away from a normal life and forever be an outcast in this world. Our only hopes relied on therapy.
Finally, the scheduled therapy session began. We met with the therapist and she introduced herself to David with a handshake. Of course, David was timid at first but surprisingly, he seemed more comfortable with the therapist. Not completely however, but he didn’t seem tense like usual. This alone brought me a small glimmer of hope for David but then again, I was desperate to find any light for my son at the time. The therapist asked us to wait in the waiting room as she escorted David to her office. We were hesitant at first but being as desperate as we were, we decided to put our trust in the therapist and waited outside. An hour went by, which felt like an eternity, and the door slowly opened as David walked out along with the therapist behind him. My wife and I anxiously stood up waiting for a conclusion or explanation from the therapist.
“David is a good boy” she said. “I highly recommend that we continue these sessions to further improve David’s mental stability.”
“Are you saying that our son is mentally unstable?” I asked.
She smiled gently. “You have nothing to worry about with your son. From what I have assessed so far, I am leaning more towards a social phobia or anxiety. He’s a child with a strong sense of fear towards the outside world which is fairly common amongst developing adolescents. Nothing too serious of a concern, however I do wish to see him again in future sessions to build some solidarity but I do expect to see improvements with David as we progress.”
I felt a large weight lift from my shoulders. A great sense of relief filled my every limb. Our boy is going to be okay. There is light being seen at the end of the tunnel for our little Da Vinci. We thanked the therapist greatly for her help and continued to have David meet with her three times a week.
A month went by and happiness filled our hearts as we noticed a significant improvement in David’s behavior. He talked to us more often and spent less time in his room. His teacher even contacted us letting us know that she was very happy to see David be more open to his classmates during recess and lunch time. This brought us more assurance to our son’s improvements. David still continued with his drawings and we would continue to restock on his art supplies with the usual crayons and colored pencils whenever he ran out. David would smile more often and there was a light to him now. He even made a friend at school and would always talk about their fun adventures during the car ride home. My wife and I would occasionally have moments where we would cry from the overwhelming joy we felt from the progress we saw from David. Our little artist was going to be okay. He was going to live the rest of his life as a normal and happy person.
One day after school, David brought over his friend he made from school to our home. We were so happy to finally see another child’s face standing beside our son. His name was Theo and he was such a nice, outgoing boy and very energetic as well. We were so enthused about having a friend of David’s come over that we welcomed Theo to our house whenever he pleased. Of course, David spent most of the time playing with Theo in his room. We didn’t want to bother their play time too much so we let them be. After an hour, I walked to David’s room and gently knocked on the door.
“David? Maybe you and Theo would like some pb&j sandwiches?” I asked as I opened the door. Inside the room, I saw David and Theo sitting on the floor drawing and coloring different pictures they made together with crayons and colored pencils that were scattered across the floor. David looked at me with a big smile.
“No thanks dad! We’re finishing our drawings for an art show!”
“Oh is that so?” I asked.
“Maybe Theo is getting hungry from all the art you two are making?” I looked at Theo waiting for an answer. He didn’t seem as energetic as he was when he first walked into our house. He looked almost lethargic this time presumably from all the playing they’ve been doing.
“No thank you, sir.” Theo quietly replied.
“Alrighty.” I said. “You two continue finishing up your drawings for your art show. I can’t wait to see it!”
I closed the door and walked back to the kitchen to let my wife know about the “art show” they were working on. She sighed with a smile. At that moment, I saw an assured look on my wife’s face. A face I haven’t seen in a while until now. I embraced her in my arms and kissed her forehead.
“Our son is perfect.” I whispered. “He always has been perfect and now the future is going to look bright for our family.” I looked into her eyes as they glistened with a shallow layer of tears. “We’re going to be a happy family from here on out.”
We both shared the feeling of reassurance and relief for our son at that very moment. We sat at the table eating some of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches my wife made for the two boys who were still locked silently in their room. Then we saw David scurrying through the hallway with a piece of paper in his hand.
“Is the art show ready yet?” I asked enthusiastically.
“No, not yet dad!” he replied with excitement. “I wanted to show you my new picture!”
My wife smiled. “Well, let’s see it, little Da Vinci!” She said ecstatically.
David held the paper out in front of him radiating with elation. On the paper was a picture of an apple drawn in finger-paint. My wife collapsed on her knees, covering her mouth with her trembling hands and began to weep immensely. I quickly kneeled down in devastation and held David strongly in my shuddering arms as tears polluted with fear streamed down my face.
Our precious boy. Our little Da Vinci. Our talented little artist.
We would buy him crayons and colored pencils every month, but never have we bought him red finger paint. I stared toward David’s room knowing the horror that’s waiting behind that door.
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Credits to: GoldGuru
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