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Slipping Through The Clutches
of Ketchum, Tobias & Yael
FROM
Break Out: Finding Freedom
When You Don't Quite Fit The Mold
James R. Hasse"Every bed we make in life,
based on personal presupposition,
becomes narrow
upon our first turn beneath its covers."Anonymous
"What a great shade of red!" I remarked to Yael in a string of mashed consonants as nine-year-old Andrea again skipped into the living room.
"Pardon?" Yael, sitting across from me in a caramel rocker, quietly asked with a puzzled look. I patted the right arm of the red, gold and beige sofa on which I was sitting. Andrea stood silently next to her mom, eyeing my crutches, which I had placed on the chocolate carpet in front of the dazzling couch.
"I like this hint of red in your couch," I clarified, choosing a combination of words I thought Yael -- and Andrea -- would probably better understand. I had just met Andrea for the first time. "Great job of decorating."
"Oh, I thought you said, 'Want to go to bed?'" Yael interrupted with an earnest look on her face.
I saw her eyes twinkle beneath her dark hair, which was peppered with gray. Her flush face broke into a broad smile.
"No-o-o ... ," I finally replied in disbelief that my comment could be so misunderstood. "I said I like this red." I felt a nervous smirk cross my face, as I pounded the couch's cushion next to me.
Yael's petite giggle exploded into throaty laughter.
Andrea watched me with wide eyes as she nervously curled her long black hair between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. How could a mom be so open about our
misunderstanding in front of her nine-year-old daughter? How could our communication get so off track? We had only known each other a couple of months. Was she thinking, all along, what it would be like to sleep with a man who has cerebral palsy? Or, was it just my sloppy speech?
"When did you do all this?" I asked, deciding to ignore the misunderstanding and expand on my original comment. I couldn't recall the room's colors from my first visit.
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