| |
––––––––
I crawled under the soft comforter of my king sized bed. With my laptop, I signed on to Facebook. I wanted to numb my thoughts, to check out other people’s versions of their best lives.
Snuggling deeper into the mint sheets, a message showed that Alik had sent me a friend request. I hit the accept button, and he popped up in my chat.
Hey, Natalie. Thanks for the add.
His quick response was so unexpected it startled me. I sat up straighter in the bed and pulled the bedside lamp closer. Sure. Didn’t think you would be on.
I’m stalking you.
I bit the inside of my cheek. How exciting. I’m lying in bed with my hair in a knot and no makeup. Bet you wish you were here, huh?
Yes. I’m sure you look beautiful.
You know it. A smile pulled across my face.
Send me a picture.
Forget it. I shook my head as if he could see me. Maybe this was how the younger generation talked to each other on Facebook, but I wasn’t going to send anyone a picture of myself lying in my bed, especially looking as frumpy as I did.
The chat box showed that he was typing again. What did you do with your day off?
I visited my husband in the morning and he remembered the frat house he lived in during college. Pretty awesome.
That is awesome.
Yep. Undoing my bun, I let my hair fall loose around my shoulders. I leaned my head against the headboard, feeling comfortable, wanting to open up more. Yeah, he said he remembered how the place smelled like vomit and dirty socks and was always littered with empty beer cans. But he didn’t have any real reaction to the memory. It didn’t trigger any noticeable emotions. Also, it’s almost like he’s more relaxed with his mother than with me. When the kids or I go over for a visit, it stresses him out more than anything else.
That’s got to be hard on you.
I just wish I knew what he was thinking. He looks at me a lot, but he never says much. It’s kind of strange. Oh yeah, and my five-year-old son was formally diagnosed with a mild form of autism. It’s been a super great week. Really fantastic.
Clicking on the overhead fan, I kicked one of my legs out of the blankets to cool down. As much as I needed to vent, I regretted whining to Alik. He was a kid, he didn’t want to hear my grown-up problems.
That must have been scary for you to go through alone. I’m so sorry.
It was. I replied, relieved by his response.
What did the therapist say?
She said my son has Asperger’s. Well, technically they got rid of the term Asperger’s, so I guess Ben has the syndrome formerly known as Asperger’s. It’s a disorder on the lower end of the autism spectrum.
Alik wrote back before I had time to wonder what he would say. Ha. I like the way you describe it. My cousin’s son also has the syndrome formerly known as Asperger’s. What are Ben’s symptoms?
The standard stuff—inability to pick up on social cues, dislike of changes in routine, unusual facial expressions. The therapist said we’re lucky. He’s high functioning and we caught it at a younger age. I shuddered at the memory of her words. Finally acknowledging the truth made me want to crush my head against a boulder.
My cousin had the same reaction. Although I think she wanted to smash her face against the kitchen cupboard.
A laugh slipped out. I bit my knuckle, feeling guilty I wasn’t having this conversation with Mark. His memory was coming back in pieces, but he was not in any position to digest this news or help me make sense of it. And honestly, even if Mark were completely fine, I wasn’t sure how he would take the diagnosis. In the past, whenever I brought anything up about Ben being different, Mark would shut the conversation down.
You there? Alik typed.
I stared at the laptop screen, realizing I needed to talk about this with someone who was willing to listen. I’m here. Sorry. I was just thinking.
About Ben?
Yeah. It’s a shocking diagnosis, even if the signs have been there all along. Of course I immediately think, will he be able to find meaningful relationships, go away to college, marry? Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. The salt tracks dried in their wake. Worst of all, I feel guilt stricken for bringing this sweet soul in to the world to suffer.
Can I call you?
I hesitated, feeling weak for telling him so much. I’m having a pity party, don’t mind me.
I want to hear your voice, cheer you up.
How?
I’ll tell you a story.
Tell me the story online.
It’s about a gorgeous woman who gets her big break in morning news and moves to Los Angeles. She finds the best therapists in the country to help her son and by the time he goes into third grade, he’s made lots of friends and is very happy.
Tears wet my face again, only this time with a sense of relief. His story sounded wonderful. I love it.
That’s not all.
No?
This woman has a hot young boyfriend who worships her.
Sounds like a lucky lady. Too bad it’s not real life. My fingers tapped the keys, waiting for his response.
It could be.
My heart stopped. This was more than flirting.
Natalie?
Yes?
What are you thinking?
I paused, wanting to steer the conversation away from where we were, feeling guilty that I was secretly enjoying it. I directed my thoughts back to Ben. I’m thinking I don’t know how I’m going to handle it all. At any moment I’m going to make the wrong choice and this fragile universe I am barely managing to balance is going to collapse on top of me.
I can help you. My cousin found a great program through UCLA for her son, and she’s been working with him for the last year. He’s made some big strides. That kid is so funny and insightful, you would love him. I could find out more. Would you like me to put you two in touch?
Actually, that would be really great.
I wish I could give you a big hug right now, tell you everything is going to be okay. You’ll make it through this. You’re a great mom.
My body responded without my permission. I didn’t want to think about my real life any longer. I wanted to fantasize about Alik holding me in his arms. Can I ask you a question?
Go for it. He wrote.
That night I watched you perform with your band and you looked at me before you sang. What were you thinking?
Minutes ticked by on my computer’s digital clock. I wondered if he had clicked offline. Then the little dots popped up telling me he was typing.
Truth?
Yes. I wrote back within seconds, my body buzzing with anticipation.
I was thinking... I wouldn’t be able to breathe if I couldn’t kiss you.
My pulse quickened and my stomach felt warm, like a love drunk teenager. Alik thought he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t kiss me. Right or wrong, I knew his words would be replaying in my head for a very long time.
Still, I needed to think before I responded. I didn’t want to lead him on.
Are you there? He asked after a long pause on my end.
Yes. I said, twisting a lock of hair around my finger.
Can I ask you a question?
Okay.
What were you thinking when I was looking at you that night?
I bit the tip of my index finger and tried to think of a good answer. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t say hey, I wanted to pull you off the stage and take you somewhere dark and quiet. I was thinking, I hope you sing well so I don’t have to lie about your skills.
Ouch!
Don’t worry. You were fantastic. Best singer I’ve ever heard live.
Gee, thanks.
That’s the truth. You were really good.
You looked hot in that tight black dress. I can’t get the vision of you out of my mind.
I bit my finger again, thrilled and embarrassed at the same time. Thanks.
You’re one of those rare women who is truly beautiful inside and out.
I think I have you fooled.
No way. You’re one of the good ones.
Kind of like my co-host Dana? It was a childish comment, nudging him to tell me he liked me more than my co-worker. Still, I wanted to know what she meant to him.
She’s a nice girl...nothing compared to you. Why do you ask?
Heard you two were friends, the kind with benefits.
Just a fling. Never anything more.
Is that what you do? Seduce the women of the newsroom one at a time?
You know it. I have a list, Inna’s next.
Good luck with that!
Yeah, she’ll be easy. I can tell by the way she blows me off and looks right through me when I talk to her. She wants me bad.
She’s playing the ultimate game of hard to get.
Exactly... What kind of food do you like best?
The change in conversation threw me. Um, I like all types of food.
Any favorites?
Greek.
Meet me for dinner Sunday night? I’ll take you to this really great Greek restaurant.
I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
Just as friends. It’s in Westwood, close to Inna’s.
I rubbed my hand against my heart. His invitation felt irresistible. Besides, there was nothing wrong with two friends having dinner.