Chapter 1 #2
Ollie had childhood apraxia of speech. His brain knew exactly what it wanted to say, but the signals didn’t make the trip to his mouth the way they were supposed to.
The issue was the coordination between thought and articulation and the sequencing of sounds that most people performed without a second thought.
For Ollie, every syllable had to be built from the ground up.
As his teacher had said, it wasn’t a problem of intelligence. In fact, he seemed to notice and understand more than other children of his age, perhaps because he didn’t speak. More time for listening. She had often thought a few adults she knew could have used a lesson from Ollie.
Progress was slow. There had been a lot of hard sessions.
Ones that left her emotionally exhausted afterward, as if she were the one trying to form words instead of sweet Ollie.
But when a sound that had been locked inside him finally broke free?
Magic. The kind that stayed with her long after the sound was finally uttered.
Ollie arrived a few minutes later from his first grade classroom and gave her a friendly wave. At first, he’d been terribly shy, but, over a few sessions, she had drawn him out, rewarded with his tentative smile.
“Hi, Ollie. How are you today?”
He gave her the thumbs-up as he took a seat across from her.
“Okay, let’s do this thing.” Mauve set the mirror between them on the table so he could see himself.
They started with sounds he’d already mastered, building a foundation before they pushed into harder territory.
She learned early on that, with apraxia, one didn’t sprint.
It was more about layering, sound by sound, syllable by syllable, repetition after repetition, until the motor plan took hold and the mouth learned what the brain already knew.
She held up a card with a picture of a ball.
“Buh,” she said, exaggerating the way her lips came together, watching him in the mirror positioned between them. “Your turn.”
He pressed his lips together, his forehead creasing in concentration. “Buh.”
“Oh, that’s so good, Ollie.”
They moved through a series of bilabials, which were sounds made with both lips.
Next, they tried some combinations. Ba-ba.
Bee-bo. She used tactile cues when he got stuck, gently touching the side of his jaw to help him feel where his mouth needed to be.
He accepted the touch without flinching. That had taken a few sessions.
About fifteen minutes in, she slid a card with a picture of a boy across the table.
“Okay,” she said. “New one. He.”
Ollie looked at the picture. His mouth opened slightly, then closed.
She could see him searching for the motor sequence.
The only way she could think to describe it to those who didn’t suffer speech difficulties was to say it was like feeling around in the dark for a light switch you know is there but can’t quite find.
“Hh—” He stopped. Tried again. “Hh—”
The sound was there, breathy and thin, but the vowel wouldn’t attach.
His face tightened. He pushed the card an inch away from him.
“That’s okay,” Mauve said. “You got the start. That H sound was right there. We’re going to come back to this one. It’s a tricky sound because your mouth has to stay open and the air has to do the work. But you had it started. That’s the hardest part.”
He gave her a sad smile and lifted one shoulder.
She leaned forward. “The words are already inside you, Ollie. We just have to be patient. They just need a little help coming out. But you’ll get there.”
He nodded, taking in a deep breath.
“Let’s go over some of the sounds you’ve conquered,” Mauve said.
They spent the rest of the session on sounds he already did well, so that he would leave feeling successful. She’d learned over the years that a child who felt good about their session felt eager to come back, rather than dreading it.
When the session ended, she escorted Ollie back to his classroom.
“You did really great today,” Mauve said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
He looked up at her, gratitude in those eyes as clear as any words he might say.
On the way back to her office, her phone buzzed from her pocket.
Jason again.
Jason
Just got to Roan and Reese’s. They’re both at work, so I’m going to take a nap.
Mauve
Great. Looking forward to seeing you tonight.
Jason
Same. I hope it’s not weird.
Mauve
Can’t be. Not with us.
Through the window, she could see the playground, the frost just starting to melt in the pale morning sun. A group of kids spilled out the back door for early recess, their laughter sharp and bright in the cold air.
She loved her life. Her work gave her great satisfaction.
She adored her little house, even though the renovations had taken longer than she’d hoped and depleted a lot of her savings.
But it didn’t matter. She would be in that house for the rest of her life.
She’d finally found a home in Sugarville Grove where she felt wrapped up in love like a cherished Christmas present.
All that said, she yearned for Jason Hayes.
In a perfect world, he would live in Sugarville Grove.
But his work was out west where the stars were people instead of twinkling lights in a vast Vermont sky. If only her heart had an off button.