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CHAPTER
EIGHT
FORD
The following week, I’m at my parent’s in Ohio for Thanksgiving. I don’t always get to come home for holidays, but we happened to have four days between games, so I took advantage of the lapse in our schedule.
I’m in the kitchen with my mom, where she has me stirring the gravy. I glance around the room while I stir. Their house is the complete opposite of mine. But I love it, nonetheless. Being home makes everything…easier. I can relax in my parent’s dated nineties-style home in the Dayton suburbs and be myself. If I don’t make enough eye contact or say the right thing, Amber and my family won’t judge me or think I’m weird. My family, and Amber, are the only people in my life who know about my Asperger’s—er, high-functioning autism. I’ve carefully guarded the information so the media won’t bombard me.
Mom knows I’m comfortable with silence. Unfortunately, my peaceful moment doesn’t last long. She abruptly turns to me, pinning me with her blue eyes, and asks, “So sweetie, are you dating anyone?”
I blink a few times since I wasn’t prepared for this question. “That was abrupt.”
Her slim shoulders sag, and she wipes her hands on her checkered apron and leans against the counter. “You’re handsome, successful, wonderful…” She fusses with her salt-and-pepper bob as she speaks—it’s what she does when she’s worried.
I interrupt her. “Mom, stop. You don’t need to worry about me.”
She pushes off the counter and grabs the large goggles beside her, fixing them on top of her head. She always wears them to slice the turkey since getting turkey juice in her eye a few years ago. “I don’t want you to be alone. I know it’s hard for you to open up to people. But you’re such a wonderful person. Your sisters are settling down and falling in love, while you’re all alone in D.C.” She sighs. “Farrah is already married, and even thinking about children, even Felicity is getting serious with the young man she’s been dating. I just hate the thought of you being lonely while your younger sisters are moving forward with their lives.”
I meet her gaze, knowing it puts her mind at ease for some reason. Why do people want eye contact? It’s so weird. “I’m very successful, Mom. Some parents dream of their sons making it to the NHL.”
“I don’t care what you do for a living, Ford. I just want you to be happy. We’re proud of you, always have been…but it’s hard sometimes to know how wonderful you are and to see you all alone.” She pats me on the chest lovingly. “I want you to have someone to share all that success with.”
I heave a heavy sigh. I hate that all these years after my diagnosis, my parents still worry about me. As if I haven’t proven I can be a thriving and successful adult. It feels like no matter what, they will always, always worry about my well-being.
But being alone has never bothered me. And I have friends, I have a life. I’m not cowering under tables when I get overwhelmed anymore. I’ve learned to live with the challenges of being neurodivergent. I know Mom didn’t mean to offend me, that she means well…but her words still make my whole body feel tense. My skin prickles in that irritating way that it has since I was a kid whenever I get upset.
“When will Amber be here?” Mom asks, changing the subject. It’s like she can read my thoughts. And honestly, maybe she can. The woman has always seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere.
I count to three and exhale a calming breath before I glance up at the giant rooster-shaped clock above the stove. It’s almost three in the afternoon. “She should be here any minute.” A smile tugs at my mouth, and all those itchy, prickly feelings start to fade.
My sisters must hear the mention of Amber and bound into the small but cozy kitchen that’s lined with oak cabinets in an ugly, orange wood-stain.
“Did somebody say Amber is here?” My youngest sister, Felicity, asks. Her dark hair is pulled up in a bouncy ponytail and she has a white ribbon tied around it like she’s thirteen instead of twenty-eight.
My middle sister, Farrah, has the same dark hair as Felicity and me, but hers’ is styled neatly and flows down her back. I think she must’ve used one of those hair straightener thingies. Her wedding ring flashes as she demurely tucks her hair behind one ear, but I notice Connor isn’t here with her. He always seems to put work over everything else, even his own wife. I’ve never liked the guy. I remember Mom’s comment about her thinking about having kids, and my eyebrows draw together.
“I can’t wait to hold Nella,” Farrah says, her face lighting up.
“Women and babies,” I mutter, earning a smack on my shoulder from Felicity.
The neutral expression I have plastered on my face is making me a big liar, because I can’t wait to see Nella again. It’s weird how having Nella and Amber in my home for a weekend felt more normal than it ever did without them.
The doorbell rings and my dad yells from the living room, where he’s been watching the Thanksgiving Day parade, that he’s getting the door.
I eye my sisters, and then we all bolt out of the kitchen, through the living room, and to the front door in a race to see who can get there the fastest.
Not much has changed since we were kids.
“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” Dad puts up his hands up, laughing. “You’re gonna knock this old man right over.”
I roll my eyes. My dad is in great shape, always has been. And despite his dark hair being about fifty percent gray now, he looks younger than his sixty years.
Dad shoves us all behind him and swings open the door open. Amber comes into view, holding a sleeping Nella, and my breath is suddenly stuck somewhere in my lungs. I just saw her last week, but knowing she’s right here, brings me a joy I can’t put into words.
“Amber, so good to see you, kiddo!” Dad says loudly, causing Nella to stir.
“Thank you for having me,” she says as Dad ushers her inside.
