CAPE ELIZABETH -- Sometimes at night, just before bedtime, Mimi Ferris and Gregory Gulino will sit at the top of the stairs and chat for a half-hour.

They spend a lot of time together during the day, but these few quiet moments on the stairs are special. They talk about all sorts of things.

Greg has lots to say, and next to his parents, it is Ferris who hears him most clearly.

It is Ferris who has helped give him a voice.

Greg, an 18-year-old with curly brown hair and square tortoise-shell glasses, is a senior at Cape Elizabeth High School. He has a rare syndrome that years ago caused him to have several strokes, and that left him with multiple physical and developmental disabilities. He uses a walker. He communicates with the world through a combination of sign language, a laptop computer, some verbal cues, and "GregSpeak," an intuitive expressiveness that only his family and close caregivers can interpret.

Ferris, 28, is Greg's caregiver and friend. She has worked with him since he was in the eighth grade, and they have developed an extraordinarily close bond.

Greg's parents say it is Ferris' belief in their son and his ability to move forward that has allowed him to blossom into the young man he has become - a sometimes funny, sometimes shy teenager with a sweet tooth who knows how to love and laugh, and yearns to be engaged with the world.

"I get a lot of satisfaction out of seeing Greg's progression, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of our relationship together," Ferris said.

Greg's parents place tremendous faith in Ferris and her resolve to do only what's best for their son. Len and Barbara Gulino say they trust Ferris' judgment so much that she has, at times, been able to stand in for them.

Ferris has been given more authority than any other caregiver they have ever employed, and in this family that really means something. Their older son has autism, and the Gulinos estimate that over the years they have worked with 45 different caregivers.

"So much of relationship is communication, and the communication between all four of us has been so extraordinarily clear," Len Gulino said. "She has a great ability to communicate and deal with very, very emotionally stressful things in a very mature way."

On a recent winter afternoon, the family gathers in the kitchen, chatting while Greg digs into a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast his mother just made for him. Greg and Ferris are holding hands, a soothing gesture that helps quell the rumble of his hunger.

"You're OK," she says softly to him. "Here, have a bite of your eggs. Your belly will feel better."

Ferris has a degree in human development, but she got her start as a caregiver working with her cousin, who has Landau-Kleffner syndrome, a neurological disorder similar to autism.

"Originally I wanted to do it because it was my cousin, and we just had a good relationship," Ferris said. "And I liked trying to teach him new things and challenging him, and challenging myself."

When she moved to Maine and was hired by the Gulinos, it was a baptism by fire. A month after Ferris began her new job, Greg had to go to Children's Hospital in Boston for major surgery and rehabilitation. A four-to-six-week stay stretched into more than three months. The Gulinos relied on Ferris to keep them informed about what his many medical providers were saying and doing when they couldn't be there.

"She was able to give us the true scoop," Len Gulino said.

Part of Greg's rehabilitation involved spending up to 45 minutes at a time in a contraption that stretched his legs. His father calls it "a rack."

In the kitchen, Ferris and Greg share memories of that time. Ferris sang and danced for him, and wheeled the cat around in the walker, all in the name of distracting Greg from the pain.

"What else did we do?" Ferris asks.

Greg makes a noise that sounds something like singing.

"Yeah, sometimes you cried, that's right," Ferris says.

Then, a throaty "huh" and Greg wiggles in his chair.

"Wiggles? You watched The Wiggles, that's right, you did. Yep. And I would say 'Five more minutes, just five more minutes,' right?"

Tuesdays through Fridays, Ferris comes to the house after Greg is done with school. Ferris helps Greg work on his personal hygiene skills, making his bed, getting his things ready for school, putting away his laundry, and his physical therapy exercises.

"Where do we go on Tuesdays, Greg?" Ferris asks.

Greg hits the appropriate key on his DynaVox, a computer outfitted with speech communication technology, and a pre-programmed answer comes out in a computerized voice: "Every Tuesday Mimi takes me horseback riding. I ride a horse named Duke."

And what about Wednesdays and Thursdays? Greg presses another key: "Mimi helps me work at the Riverton Library."

"He cleans the video cases there, and he checks materials when they come in, right?" Ferris says. "Straightens up the magazine area. Sometimes stops to read ..."

Greg laughs.

"... when you're supposed to be working. Fridays, we usually do something fun, like go to Pirates games. That's one of Greg's favorite things to do."

Ferris and Greg also spend Saturdays together. And when his parents need a break, she'll take him down to her mother's house in Boston for a couple of days.

"It turns into a Greg Gulino weekend," Ferris said. "He calls my mother with a list of people he wants to have over for a Friday night pizza party, right? And we usually end up with 10 to 15 people there. They all come to see Greg."

Lots of caregivers are dedicated, but Ferris goes out of her way to make Greg feel special. She's made beautiful scrapbooks documenting the good times they've had together over the years. She'll sit for hours with him in the rain at the Yarmouth Clam Festival, just so he can see the fire engines in the parade.

Greg is a huge Portland Pirates fan, so Ferris arranged to have two players, Mike Hoffman and Brandon Segal, show up at his birthday party. In March, she contacted one of the vice presidents of the team and arranged for Greg to attend a practice and skate with the team afterward.

This relationship is not a one-way street. Ferris says she gets a lot of satisfaction out of their friendship.

"I can be having a horrible day, and I come here and he always makes me laugh," she said. "Sometimes he can tell I'm having a bad day, and he'll get off the bus and just give me a hug."

Greg's parents are convinced their son would not have bonded this way with any other caregiver.

"He's highly intuitive," Barbara Gulino said, "and he can usually figure out when, to the person, it's just a job, or if they're passionate and engaged in what they do."

At the kitchen island, eggs eaten, Greg and Ferris are talking. Something passes between them, something that's unintelligible to an outsider. GregSpeak.

Barbara Gulino interprets: "He just called her a knucklehead."

Staff Writer Meredith Goad can be contacted at 791-6332 or at:

mgoad@pressherald.com