Page 88 of Blue Jean Summer

“Annulled,” I said. “We’re getting an annulment.”

“Semantics.”

I took a deep breath of humid summer air and let it out. “I have Asperger’s. Well—they don’t actually call it Asperger’s anymore. That’s just what it was called when I was diagnosed as a kid. It’s considered part of the autism spectrum now.”

Catherine looked up at me. “I didn’t know that about you.”

“It’s not exactly something I lead with in a conversation.”

“What’s it like?” she asked as she leaned forward, flipped open the picnic basket, and pulled out a little cup of strawberries. “If you want to tell me,” she tacked on. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m just nosy.”

I grabbed a napkin-wrapped slice of coffee cake and set it on my thigh and chewed on a bite of streusel as I thought it over. “Most of the time, it feels like putting on a performance. I end up slipping into this version of myself that I don’t recognize to get through the day. I’m me, but I’m not presenting myself the way I feel inside. Like ‘Hayes Wilder, the agricultural commodities broker’ is a character I play instead of my identity. It’s like, I’ve learned lines and know what the scene is supposed to look like. When everything goes to plan, it’s fine. When someone goes rogue and changes the structure of the act mid-scene and I’m forced to improv, everything goes blank, and my body goes into a fight-or-flight response.”

Catherine looked down at the strawberry pinched between her fingers. “You don’t let it show. You’re always so put together.”

“I have to be.” I shrugged. “Social situations are hard. Anything out of the routine, anything I can’t make a game plan for. I used to struggle with picking up social cues or dry humor or sarcasm. Sometimes I still do. It takes me longer to understand things like subtext and nonverbal cues than it does for most people. I end up overanalyzing every situation and it’ll stick with me for days or weeks after. When someone is put in a new situation, they can often navigate it by using memories of similar situations and it’s no big deal.”

“Like using inference or context clues to find the answer on a test,” she guessed.

“Yeah,” I said. “But for me it is a big deal. It’s as if…when I’m doing something new, everyone else has a test, a textbook, and notes, and I just have a blank page with questions that I didn’t have time to study for. I like my job. I’m good at it. Not everyone thrives working remotely, but I do. I need structure and routine so it’s easy for me to stay on track. Working from home is easier for me than going into the office. I don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time.”

Catherine chewed thoughtfully on a strawberry. “That sounds really exhausting.”

“Sometimes it is,” I admitted. “There are no medications out there specifically for Asperger’s, so I’m on stuff that’s usually prescribed for ADHD and depression.”

“Does it help?”

I thought it over for a moment. “It doesn’t help so much as it puts me back to neutral. But neutral feels like running a race that everyone else is rested up for, while I just made it to the starting line after sprinting to the track. It’s still a lot of effort to keep up. Sometimes I can fake it. Sometimes it just sucks. Sometimes I freeze. Like that day Hallie asked me to kiss you for the picture.” I met her eyes. “I really wanted to kiss you right then. I wanted it to be something automatic that I could close my eyes and do. I didn’t want to have to wait and figure it out. I just wanted to kiss you because you looked so fucking pretty in the garden in that yellow dress.”

Her lips quirked at the memory. “It wouldn’t have been nearly as good if it was automatic. And I’m glad when we kissed, it was just us; not for Hallie and a picture.”

“It was a good kiss,” I admitted with a sheepish smile as the replay of the two of us by the pond floated through my mind.

Catherine nudged me with her elbow. “And it was really good sex last night.”

“You sure you’re okay?” I asked.

Catherine nodded. “A little sore, but I’m not mad about that.”

I chuckled and finished off my piece of coffee cake.

“Hey,” Catherine said after a few minutes of silent eating.

“Hm?”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Thanks for marrying me,” I quipped as I balled up my napkin and tossed it back in the basket. “You starting on your project today now that you’ve got your land?”

“Hayes…” she said with furrowed brows when I pivoted out of the seriousness of the moment.

I just shook my head. “Don’t make it a thing, Cath. I told you because I want you to know how I see the world. Not because I want you to see me differently. I told you because I trust you.”

She was stoic for a beat, then squeezed my hand and said, “I trust you too.”

The solitude of the moment was shattered by a horselike thud and whinny echoing from below the loft. I huffed. “One of us probably needs to take Maisey for a ride.”

Catherine cackled and slapped my thigh. “Best of luck to you, cowboy. She’s your problem.”