Alex needs this move. Living more on his own, learning beyond just 3 in the afternoon. College. “Alex, want to go to college, want to go to school camp?”
I remove his iPad headphones. “Alex, do you want to go to college?”
“College.”
“Hold that thought, Alex.”
Telling Ned over the phone was a mistake. He sends me a text. “Tell my coach I won’t be at football practice this afternoon.” Ned would never miss football practice. I call him. “How are you, Ned?”
“Kind of sad and kind of happy,” he says.
The school emails. “Please see attached (includes packing list!) We will need the CRP approval and an amended IEP before the admission can occur. I will send out the SD letter but following up on the CRP is most important!” The CRP, near as I can tell, is the document that turns on the tap of state money for Alex’s new education.
Jill emails. “I emailed her … to let her know about our email from the school and they say that we don't have to do anything else at the moment (though I'll certanily [sic] let you know within a day or so if we don't hear back in which case we might well ask for your help - and thanks)” I wonder who Jill was writing to?
Just before dinner, Ned sits on our bed and hangs his head. “It’s quiet around here when Alex is gone,” he says, unable to even start his normal night’s two hours of homework.
Yes, yes it is quiet. In a few nights, Alex won’t be in his bed at 10. He’ll live somewhere else for the first time in almost 16 years in my life and for the first time in Ned’s. How’s a family supposed to handle this?
“Maybe with the school it’ll be the same way when people show up for jury duty,” I say to Ned. “There’s people there to help jurors settle in to the process. To the jurors, it’s just once or twice in their life. But the people there see thousands of jurors every month. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.” Ned nods. I hope it’s like that.
Sad and happy. Alex needs this. “School-camp?” Alex says. “College?”
What about food? What happens up there when he runs out of Utz Extra-Dark Specials or Hebrew Nationals? In some ways what Alex faces is a thousand times harder than Ned’s new high school, which is one of the toughest in New York.
Speaking of toughest, in the mail comes a recall notice for our car. Something about the engine catching fire. It’s a week for stuff that has never happened to me before; I respond with predictable language.
“This is the last week Alex will be with us for a while,” says Jill. “Let’s all talk nice.”
Okay okay. Just before sleep I tell Jill I’ll come up with our punch list in the morning.
