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“We can figure out how to do it. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
I take his hand and we head downstairs to the dining room. We eat quickly, and I get him settled with some activities. Lucan has been a bit scarce since our return. But he calls me every night before he leaves home and lets me know when he gets home in the mornings. So it surprises me to look up from where I am sitting with Ryan and find him standing in the doorway. My heart skips a beat.
“Good morning.”
“Daddy!” Ryan leaves his work and races to him. Lucan scoops him into his arms with some effort.
“Someone’s getting big. I’ll soon need help lifting you.”
“I finished my puzzle! And Summer’s going to help me frame it!”
“I saw it. Sylvia showed me just now. Good job.”
“Summer says I’m a savant. That’s a genius.”
He looks at me and I shrug.
“Youarea genius, Ryan. You’re a very bright boy. Now go back and finish your work.”
Ryan moves obediently and I breathe a sigh of relief. Lucan and I have not discussed Ryan since the argument in Florida. But I have not stopped thinking about what to do. And in my thinking, I have been considering the full time job offer. School starts in a few weeks and I need to make a decision by then. I turn my attention back to Ryan. But a few minutes later, we are interrupted again, this time by Sylvia.
“Lucan wants to speak with you. I’ll take over.”
Without a word, I leave the room. I knock on the office door before pushing my head around it.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Come in and take a seat, Summer.”
I do as I am told and sit waiting. His face is inscrutable as he squeezes a stress ball.
“A savant? Really, Summer?”
“They’re geniuses in their own right, you know?”
“Geniuses with deficiencies. You’re still pushing this autism foolishness?”
“It’s not foolishness!” I am on my feet in an instant and walk over to the wall separating the office from the playroom.
“Turn on your camera or whatever you use to watch him and let me point out a few things—”
He stands and places his hands flat on the desk. “I don’t need you to point anything out, Summer. A child who puts together a thousand piece puzzle like that cannot be autistic.”
“He can, actually. I’ve been trying to tell you that research in the field has broadened tremendously and an autism diagnosis is not a determination of limitations for the child. Ryan is clearly high-functioning and verbal—”
“It’s already a done deal in your head, isn’t it?”
I look at him. “All I’m saying is—”
“Listen to what I’m saying. My son is a normal six-year-old with genius tendencies. He is not autistic.”
“But Lucan—”
“But nothing, Summer. You are not a professional, so youropinionis not a fact and means nothing. Please, leave it alone.”
We stare at each other for a few tense moments and I am transported back to the argument in Florida. Admittedly, he is not going to storm off this time. Instead, he comes around to where I am standing and pulls me into his arms.
“Let’s not fuss about this, okay?”
