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***
I leave the club early and find myself driving past Summer’s house. Though it is after two a.m., there is a light on inside. I think about going up and knocking, but then a silhouette of a very tall person cuts against the lighted window. I feel as though I have been punched in the gut. I press the gas and head home.
On Monday, I decide not only to stay home but to be more involved with Ryan’s daily routine. By the time I get him down for his nap after lunch, I am overwhelmed. It makes it even harder as I had told Sylvia not to intervene. Ryan had a meltdown the moment I told him that Summer would not be coming for a while. In retrospect, I should have probably taken it one day at a time and told him she was just absent today. But the damage is already done.
I sit and watch him, hiccupping now and then as he sniffs in his sleep. He hugs the stuffed dog and has his thumb close to his mouth.
Autism
The word keeps reverberating in my head.
I pull out my phone and get on google. By the time Ryan wakes up and I begin to get him changed, I look at him through new lenses. The afternoon is a little less dramatic as we go swimming. That saps enough energy to make him mellow. Nevertheless, as soon as Sylvia appears, I hand him over. I feel bad for not just taking care of him myself longer but I need help. As soon as I get to my office, I make a quick call.
The next morning, I leave Ryan in Sylvia’s care and head to Dr. Harrison’s office. I am shown in immediately.
“Thank you for making some time to see me, Dr. Harrison.”
“Please. Call me Shawn. A first name basis tends to make my parents feel more at ease. I guess you’re here to discuss Ryan?”
“Yes. I’m having some difficulty accepting this diagnosis for Ryan. What did I do wrong?”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.” He looks at me with concern. “Many people think that there is something they did to either cause it or something they could have done to prevent it. You are simply not responsible for his condition. Nor can you do anything to change it, apart from find ways to live with it. And I’ll do you one better – Ryan is not as bad as you’re thinking, as I’m sure Summer told you. He’s a very bright little boy. He just reasons things differently.”
“I stayed with him yesterday and it was hard.”
“That’s because you were now in the mindset of being conscious of autism rather than being a parent and treating him the way you usually do. It happens all the time when parents first find out.” He gets up and goes over to his bookshelf and pulls out a book. He pushes it across to me.
The Autistic Genius.
“Give it a read when you have some time. Chapter two should set things straight for you.”
We talk a little bit longer and when I leave his office I bring with me some assurance. That night, I start reading, and the next morning, I take a different approach with Ryan. I follow his lead. And it works!
By the end of the week, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Friday night, as I sit in the loft looking down, I have flashbacks to last week at this time. My spirits drop at the thought of Summer. Sylvia is barely speaking to me and I have yet to place an ad in the paper. Truthfully? I am not sure if I can move on from Summer. And it bothers me. I refuse to admit that I may have feelings for her, and that they are as strong as I think they are. But the shadow in her window on Saturday night is riveted in my head. Clearly, she does not feel the same. So, now all I can do is navigate one day at a time in a life and space without her.
Chapter Twenty One
Summer
Itakeadeepbreath as the last student is picked up from school. I stop briefly in the teachers’ lounge to collect a few items, then head to my car. Halfway there, one of my coworkers, Dean, catches up with me.
“Hey, Summer. Let me give you a hand.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s always hell being back after summer, huh? Three months without the little angels and you can’t wait to be back. But by the time September ends, you’re dying for Christmas break.”
“Don’t forget losing your voice the first week back and having to get used to talking for hours each day again.” I laugh and mimic the raspiness most teachers tend to suffer after resumption.
“It’s just like that! We just have to try to keep ourselves sane, I suppose.”
“I guess. This is me.” I open the car and place my things on the back seat before reaching for the other things Dean is carrying. I close the door and smile up at him.
“Thanks for helping me.”
“No problem. Hey. On the point of trying to keep ourselves sane, it’s Friday. I was hoping that you’re free tonight and would like to have dinner with me?”
I keep the smile pasted to my face. It has not gone unnoticed that Dean Richards has taken a liking to me. It became even more obvious after we returned to school in August and news got around that Steven and I had split up. I look at his eager face. He is a handsome guy with his thick auburn hair and warm brown eyes. He is just a year or two older than I am and a genuinely nice person. Now why the hell couldn’t I have met someone like him before I ever went to that damn interview with Lucan? At the thought of Lucan, my smile slips a bit. I look at Dean and shake my head.
