The boy of the CDs /L.S

The boy of the Cds-One shot

*sorry for the pronouns*
1994

—Harry, son, you must get up. It's late.

A female voice was heard stepping into the dark room. Then he opened the curtains and slightly the windows. The boy stirred in his bed complaining, covering himself with the blankets over his head.

—Harry, please.

The boy ignored it. His mother sighed, walked up to him and placed her soft kiss on his head over the blankets.

It was the mid 90s. The streets of England were covered in vast fog that fall.

Anne felt in the kitchen preparing breakfast for her son. Harry was a special boy. We have been diagnosed since childhood with an unspecified generalized developmental disorder. It is a kind of disease that affects being able to socialize properly with people. Be it difficult, verbal unfolding with others or caregiver's ability to easily interact with people. Everything in your head is considered fine. I didn't have any kind of cognitive problem. He was not a genius or a fool. His brain was that of a normal child. The person closest to him, his mother, was the one with whom they exchanged the most words. Any kind of human contact outside of her made him nervous. We had a panic attack at school when he was little, the teachers and his classmates were very scared and had no idea how to contain it, it was not until his mother arrived at the establishment when he finally calmed down. From that day on, his parents decided that he would study at home with a trusted person, without exposing himself to so many people around him that he could suffocate him. No specialist had been able to tell him precisely if Harry would stop being like that at some point in his life. But she did not lose hope.

She heard the boy's footsteps coming down the stairs and turned around, hiding something behind his back. The sixteen-year-old adolescent entered the kitchen slowly wearing his striped pajamas, with his ruffled curlers and rubbing one of his eyes with his fist.

—Hi sweetheart. How did you sleep?—She asked in a sweet tone as he served things at the table.

The boy just shrugged, not being rude, and had a seat.

—Come before it gets cold.

It was Thursday. Harry had private lessons in the living room of his house from Monday to Thursday with a very nice woman named Marianne. She had been Harry's instructor for years, she was used to his behavior and he could trust her. On Fridays he had an appointment with his psychologist. He didn't spend as much time with that woman as he did with Marianne. They had not formed an affectionate bond between them, so their conversation was less. Saturdays were her days off. His mother demanded absolutely nothing from him on Saturdays. He could sleep as long as he wanted and invest his time as he pleased. Sundays were Harry's least favorite days. His family used to meet at his grandparents' house to have lunch together. His uncles and his cousins ​​went and he had to endure that human contact for a couple of endless hours. On Thursdays I had math classes. I hated math. It wasn't bad for them, they just weren't to his liking and Anne knew it perfectly. So he was always looking for a way to make up for it, be it with his favorite food or a present. -Harry –he called softly making the aforementioned stop eating and notice her- I have something for you- but the boy, like most of the time, had an expressionless look. The woman pulled her arms from behind her back and showed him that she was holding a music CD that Harry wanted in her hands. She handed it to him and he took it, observing it carefully, admiring every detail, as with every gift his mother gave him. -It's the one you wanted, right? –He nodded without stopping to see the object- Is there nothing you want to tell me? Harry stopped looking at the CD to look her in the eye and after a few seconds he finally said he said a simple 'thank you' with a very tiny smile. Her mother smiled widely. Harry spoke little, so every time he did he felt immensely happy. -All right. I'll go shopping. Take pains in today's class and maybe cook something delicious just for you - I wink at him. The boy just nodded keeping that little smile, while watching his mother leave the kitchen.