Under the Monster’s Guise

“Trevor! Come and eat!”

The rambunctious eight-year-old came tearing around the side of the house. Almost clipping his mother, Trevor ran under Imelda Brook’s arm and straight for the dinner table. Before the screen door wholly shut, Trevor seated ready to dig in.

Trevor reached for a hot steaming roll. Imelda yelled, “Trevor Michael Brooks, go wash your hands before you eat.”

“Oh, mom!”

Without saying a word, Imelda paused then gave Trevor a look sufficient to stop any objections.

Getting up from the table, Trevor argued, “Sara’s eating and look at how messy she is.”

While Trevor scrubbed a day’s worth of play from his hands, Sara, his two-year-old sister plastered herself with mac and cheese. She baptized the highchair, the tray, and everything in a three-foot radius.

Sighing, Imelda started cleaning the toddler from head to toe. During the scouring, Sara sang “Let It Go” from one of her Disney videos.

Trevor returned from washing his hands then plopped down. With the ferocity of a lion cub, he devoured his food.

The nightly routine hung with quiet sadness because of the empty seat at the head of the table. For eight months, the chair stood empty. The chair, a reminder that Trevor Senior, an Army Reservist, deployed to Afghanistan. To Imelda and Trevor, husband and dad are missing in action.

Trevor’s mom broke the uncomfortable silence. “Miss Smitty called and said she saw several boys your age harassing Billy Whitaker again. Were you with them?”

With a mouth full of food and between chewing, Trevor worked out, “Billy… Whit… aker… is… a big dumb monster.”

Pulling the cleaned tray off Sara’s high chair, Imelda paused and looked at Trevor. Trevor could see the soft, sad wetness in his mother’s eyes. “Billy has endured enough heartache in his life. He can’t help it. Billy has what is called Down's Syndrome.

Despite Billy’s disabilities, he is a remarkable young man. Since his mother passed away, Billy takes care of his father.

You and your friends should be kind to him. He is a nice young man.”

Billy Whitaker is a 25-year-old man. Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker could not have children. After trying for years, failing, giving up, finally, they adopted Billy. They were in their mid-forties and knew he had Down Syndrome.

Billy works for a company that employs disabled adults. Every day Billy walks the mile and a half to and from work. With pride, he carries his Dad’s old metal lunchbox with the thermos in the lid.

Mr. Whitaker gave Billy his lunch box after he retired from the Ford Plant. Billy is proud of the beat-up, dented, scratched old lunch box.

Often the neighborhood boys picked on Billy. While he walked home from work, the kids called him names such as freak or retard.

The neighborhood bully, a fifteen-year-old, Tim Smith, every chance he could, taunted Billy. One day while Billy went to the corner store, Tim and his buddies pummeled Billy with acorns.

Despite the mistreatment, Billy always donned a smile.

Two nights later, during dinner, Imelda was quieter than usual. She kept turning away from Trevor and Sara to wipe her eyes. Trevor asked, “Mom, what’s wrong?”

Tears had started streaming down her face. “Daddy is coming home.”

Trevor’s eye lit up with excitement. “When?”

Composing herself enough to speak, “Trevor, your dad… Your dad was badly injured.”

The words stuck in her throat. Imelda was silent for several seconds, struggling to say that which she feared.

“Mom, is Daddy okay?

Imelda walked over to grab a tissue from the box on the counter.

“Mom?”

After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, Imelda said the words, “Daddy died.” Trevor went slack. Imelda grabbed him in her arms as they both cried.

Finally, Imelda loosened her grip and looked at Trevor, “The army has shipped his body home.”

Trevor Senior was well-liked and respected. Many attended his funeral.

The Pastor spoke on,

“Trevor Michael Brooks Sr, A husband, father, a pillar in the community. A man recognized for his compassion and kindness. A model husband and father loved by his family, his friends, and well-loved by this community…”

After several minutes, the funeral sermon lost Trevor’s attention. Distracted by all the sad faces. His mother, grandmother, Aunt Lily sobbed. Sara played with a toy.

One face stood out—Billy Whitaker and his unmovable smile. He wore that thing most of the time. About the only time he was not smiling was when Tim and his buddies bullied him. Usually, some form of pain received from the hand of others dissolved Billy’s smile.

For a long while after the funeral, Imelda put on a strong face for the children. After Imelda put the children to bed, Trevor would hear his mother’s sobs each night.

Weeks passed. Trevor lost in grief, longed for his dad and hero. He hardly played with his friends. All he could think of was the man who taught him to ride a bike, play baseball, taught him to fish. The man, his father, was gone and not coming back.

One day, while walking home from school, head down, not paying attention, Trevor walked into Billy Whitaker.

At about five foot ten, Billy was a solidly built man. He didn’t budge. Trevor fell on his rump.

Looking up at Billy, Trevor was afraid. In the past, he and his friends taunted and picked at Billy. They saw Billy as a monster.

Nestor Smith, Trevor’s school buddy, said, “My older brother, Tim, said that Billy killed a man. Playing around, he put the man in a sleeper. The retard didn’t know when to let go. Billy loves to watch Wrestling.”

The neighborhood kids both feared and looked up to Tim Smith. He was charismatic, handsome, and athletic. One problem, Tim was a conduit for his drunken father’s rage. What he received, he often dished out on others weaker than him.

Billy stood there with a big smile, looking down at Trevor. Without saying a word, Billy reached down to offer Trevor a hand.

Flinching, Trevor pulled back. "Please don’t hurt me."

Laughing, Billy replied, “Hurt you? Why would I hurt you? I am helping you up.”

Trevor grabbed Billy’s hand. The strong young man pulled Trevor up like a down pillow.

“Hi, my name is Billy!”

Trevor responded, “I know who you are. Trevor. My name is Trevor.”

After several awkward seconds, Billy said, “I am sorry about your daddy.”

Trevor responded, “Thanks!

Why were you smiling at the Funeral? Everyone else looked so sad, yet you had that big grin.”

Billy scratched his sandy red hair for a moment and staring off in thought, “I liked your daddy. He was kind to me. He gave me a rides home when he saw me walking. We talked about our families.

I smiled because I have good thoughts about him.”

Trevor replied, “Oh. Okay. Well, thanks for telling me, Well, I have to go. My mom is expecting me home. Nice talking to you.”

While Trevor walked home, he pondered everything he had heard about Billy. For sure, He was different, but he was no monster.

After meeting Billy that day, Trevor defended Billy Whitaker. “Nestor, stop! Billy is a nice guy when you get to know him.”

While on the way home from school one day, Nestor picked a fight with Trevor.

All the neighborhood kids were there, including Tim and his followers.

Trevor was getting the better of Nestor, so Tim grabbed and held Trevor while Nestor punched him.

From behind a large hand grabbed Tim by the back of the shirt and flung him to the ground taking Trevor with him. Tim looked around, “Who the…?” then froze when he saw Billy standing over him like a tree with that big grin.

“You leave Trevor alone.”

Tim believed the rumors he had spread about Billy. With ease, Billy had flung him to the ground. Tim realized Billy’s strength.

“What if the retard decides to get even? He could kill me too.” Tim jumped up motioning to his guys, grabbed Nestor by the arm, and said, “Let’s go.”

Billy helped Trevor up and said, “You okay?’

Trevor smiled and responded, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for helping me.

Trevor thought to himself, “Tim is the monster, not Billy.”

Billy started to walk away. Trevor yelled after him, “Do you play video games? If I ask, maybe, my mom will let you come over.”

Billy paused, looked back, still smiling, “That would be nice.” Then he turned back and started walking toward his home.