Simon contemplated his next words, as if anxious they might cause upset. “Andrew, he… he said some things.”
Mattie immediately pulled himself up straight, something in his eyes shuttering closed. “And what was that?”
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I want to know what he said.”
“He said… he said you’d only do… certain things?”
Mattie cleared his throat, glancing away and clenching his jaw. “And you want to know this why, exactly?”
Simon blanched. “I didn’t—no, forget it, I should never of—”
“Oral only. I cannot let someone fuck me, and I can’t fuck any of them. That sort of thing has to stay intimate, you know? Just the thought turns my stomach. Don’t kiss ’em either. I figure I have to keep those things away from johns if I ever want them to feel good in a real relationship. And yes, I am always, always careful.”
Simon nodded, looking down at his mug and turning it slowly. Mattie’s brows drew together sadly, and he fought the urge to reach forward and touch the writer’s hand.
“Simon, it’s… how do I explain?” He huffed in frustration. “It’s casual. I can get by on casual. It’s important that it be just… unimportant. I can’t let that sort of thing mean anything to me. I mean, of course I crave something more… you know, real. But I have to keep it easy. I have to keep it casual. Do you—can you understand that?”
SIMON was surprised by the outpouring of emotion and the sharing of such infinitely personal feelings, the pity he’d felt for Mattie slowly being replaced by grudging respect. He still didn’t like it. He didn’t like that anyone would have to resort to that way of life to get by. It seemed infuriatingly unfair. But he couldn’t in all truth say that he never wanted to speak to Mattie again. There was a great deal of strength in the man sitting opposite him. It was merely smothered in some sort of guilt or self-hatred. It didn’t seem right.
“I think I understand. In fact, yes, the casual thing? Yeah, I get that.”
Mattie smiled. “Yeah?”
Simon smiled, rolled his eyes, and leaned forward with his hands clasped together on the table. “I find myself in a similar predicament. Not—”
Mattie let out a gentle laugh. “I know you don’t hook. Mister good-looking, sophisticated writer guy.”
Simon felt his cheeks flush slightly, but he shook his head and continued. “Seeing as we’re sharing and all… I, uh, I had a relationship. The permanent kind with a guy I was head over heels for, but then Carol-Ann—that’s my sister—she passed, and I was suddenly a father. He couldn’t take it. He stayed long enough to become important to Jamie and then cracked under the pressure.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “That’s the kind of thing that makes ‘casual’ seem like a lifesaver, doesn’t it? For us it’s different reasons, but….”
“You understand,” Mattie said quietly, his voice sounding almost relieved. “You actually get it.”
Simon lifted one shoulder slowly, an “I don’t know” gesture. “I will never risk my son being upset like that again, so if I do ever decide to date again….” He trailed off with a sigh. “Any future relationship for me would have to be totally on my terms, which sounds wholly unrealistic and unfair. What’s the male equivalent of spinsterhood?”
Mattie laughed softly and shrugged.
“Well, that’s what I’ve got coming, I think.” Simon laughed.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“That’s kind of you to say. Naive, but kind.”
“No way, man. I hope it’s okay for me to say this, but the guy that let you go? The guy that let your kid go? Out of his mind. Out of his ever-loving mind to let something like that slip through his fingers.”
Simon smiled. Fuck it. It was good to talk to Mattie. Whether it was just friendship or kinship manifested from understanding of their individual struggles, he liked him. He was a good guy, and it felt good being in his company. He noticed Mattie checking his watch and felt disappointed that he probably had somewhere else to be. On the heels of that thought was a question of where it was he had to be.
“I suppose you have to pick up Jamie soon, huh?”
Simon blinked in surprise, pleased that Mattie didn’t appear to making an excuse to leave and touched that his thoughts and concerns had been for his schedule and son. “Actually, I have someone taking care of him this afternoon.”
“Oh? You… you want to go for a stroll or something, then? Seeing as our drinks have gone cold, and all.”
Simon let out an amused huff, looking down at his Cinnamon Dolce Latte that was practically untouched and had gone stone-cold some time ago. “That sounds good.”
“I’VE never seen him upset. He’s always seemed perfectly content at the diner.” Mattie sidestepped an empty McDonald’s bag that had been left on the park pathway. They were walking aimlessly, just following the concrete path through the trees, passing the now-deserted swing sets and monkey bars as the sun went down.
“That’s because he’s used to the diner. It’s unfamiliar situations that upset him.”
“That must be tough.”
Simon nodded. “It can be. When he started preschool, I actually took him there a half dozen times before his first day, just for a half hour at a time, so he could get used to the people there, the sounds, the activity.”
“Sounds?”
“Sounds, colors.” He nodded. “Anything too loud or bright can make him anxious. It hurts him, panics him.”
“How’d his first day go?”
Simon smiled. “I struck gold with Golden Acres—no pun intended. I enrolled him early on, and he took to his teacher right away, even after the first visit. Her name’s Sarah. She’s with him right now, actually. He even lets her hold his hand sometimes.”
“But no one else?”
“No. Though….” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that’s my fault. I’m… I’m reluctant to let anyone near him, really. I don’t want him upset. It breaks my heart when he’s upset. But maybe that does more damage than good.”
“That’s understandable, though. He’s your boy.”
“It’s not an excuse, though.” He laughed quietly. “Thank God for Sarah. She is amazing when it comes to kids with special needs. I mean amazing. She has the patience and compassion of a saint.”
Mattie smiled. “She sounds like a cool chick.”
Simon laughed. “She’s a gift from heaven. She’s constantly pushing the both of us. She knows exactly what Jamie needs when I don’t, and she knows exactly how to calm me down when I start to fret.”
“Shame you don’t swing that way. I mean, yay for the male sex, but not so much for her.”
“You’re very free with the compliments.” Simon flushed.
“Only when deserved.” They shared a quick look; both glanced away. Mattie cleared his throat. “So… is it okay that I’m asking you about this stuff? It’s pretty personal.”
Simon lifted one shoulder. “It’s nice to be asked. It’s usually an awkward topic of conversation. People tend to get quiet and sympathetic when you tell them your kid is autistic, like you’ve just told them they’re dying of cancer, or something.”
“Oh, come on.”
“It’s true, and it makes me want to smack ’em silly.”
“You know the guys at the diner. They’d never—well, aside from Jules, who just doesn’t know how to interact with anybody normally—but everyone else, they’re not like that at all.” He shrugged. “I think they know there’s something different about Jamie….” He glanced at Simon to check that he hadn’t caused any offence. “But he’s still just a cute little kid to them.”
Simon nodded. “Why do you think I like that place so much?”
Mattie snorted. “I was hoping it had something to do with the dude making the sandwiches.”
Simon cracked a grin. “I’ll admit that was a bonus.” He shot Mattie a sidelong glance. “Did you
know that your friend, the waiter, came over to me and blew your cover?”
Mattie stopped still, his mouth comically hanging open before he rolled his eyes and groaned. “That asshole.”
“He seems like a nice enough guy, gave me confidence enough to go talk to you at the gallery, anyway.”
“Hmm, maybe I won’t murder him, then.”
“Ain’t you a sweetheart.”
Mattie laughed. “I do believe your funny bone is alive and well, Mister Castle.”
They walked a while in an oddly comfortable silence, just ambling, really. Eventually Mattie broke the silence. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“Just remember that I’m not the brightest bulb in the box here, but… what is autism? You’ve said what some of the results of it are, but… I mean, is it a brain thing?”
“Don’t feel dumb. It’s a glossed-over subject and doesn’t affect most people’s lives, but what it comes down to is, yes.” He nodded. “It’s a brain disorder, a problem in his neural development. And really all that means is that, in Jamie’s case, he has a significant impairment in social situations. Other than that he’s a healthy, normal—albeit above average, very bright—kid. He’s just another child, but he has to work a lot harder at the things that come naturally to other children. That’s it in a nutshell.”
Mattie nodded. “No less, just different.”
Simon nearly stopped in his tracks. Mattie didn’t seem to notice, but Simon had to swallow and clear his throat to make sure his voice didn’t come out as a squeak. That had been the absolute perfect thing to say. Even Tim had never quite grasped in three years what Mattie seemed to understand or realize in a walk through the park.
“That’s it exactly,” he said quietly.
“So… when he gets upset, does it happen often?”
Simon offered him a sad smile. “You sure you want to know all this stuff?”
Mattie’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m sorry if I’m being nosy….”
Simon nudged him back into a walk with an elbow. “Not at all.” He smiled. “Just tell me when to shut up.”
“Not likely. It’s not often you get to connect with someone new like this, you know? It’s cool.”
Again, Simon found himself baffled at Mattie’s insight, and thought distantly that he’d make a decent writer in another life. He nodded. “That’s true enough.”
“So tell me about it.”
Simon ran his hand through his hair, but for once is wasn’t an agitated gesture. “Well, it’s inevitable that he’s going to have to go through stages that frighten him.” He shook his head sadly. “I have to keep pushing him into these situations for him to adapt to them, otherwise he’ll never be independent. But when I do, it can be quite upsetting.”
“For both of you, I imagine.”
Simon nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He glanced at Mattie when he felt a touch to his arm, and followed him over to a bench. He sat normally, but Mattie opted to sit on the back of the bench, with his feet beside Simon and his hands deep in his pockets. Simon leaned forward on his knees, his hands clasped tight.
“I can usually catch it quick. He’ll begin to hum, and then he starts with his numbers.”
“His numbers?”
“He recites prime numbers when he gets agitated. I think it’s his mind’s way of distracting him or taking him out of the situation.”
“That’s… wow.”
“But if I don’t catch it, if I can’t calm him down in time… he starts to cry.” He was unaware that his voice had cracked until a warm hand squeezed his shoulder. “He’ll cover his ears, he’ll pull his cape tight around him… when it’s really bad, he’ll roll on the ground or spin as quick as he can—and it’s not him having a tantrum. That’s what people assume. That’s what they think when they look at me as if I’m the worst parent in the world, but it’s not a tantrum.”
“What is it?”
“He….” He gritted his teeth. “He can’t bear to be touched, not when he gets into that state. Do you have any idea what it’s like to see your kid go through that, and not be able to hug them?”
Mattie didn’t answer, but he rubbed Simon’s shoulder. Simon glanced at him in thanks.
“When he rolls or spins… it’s because he needs pressure to his nervous system, the same pressure any other child would receive from a hug. That constant, deep pressure to large areas of his body decreases his pulse rate, his metabolic rate, and muscle tone. It relaxes his sympathetic nervous system and calms him down. When it starts, I just have to sit back and let it happen.”
It sounded like something right out of a textbook to Mattie. “God, that’s gotta hurt to watch.”
“It does, but you have to keep calm. It only makes things worse for him if it looks like his dad is upset too.”
Mattie didn’t respond, but slunk down on the bench to sit beside him. He cleared his throat and looked at Simon. A small, private smile touched his lips, and Simon felt himself smiling back.
“Confession time.” Mattie spoke quietly. “I am insanely attracted to you.”
Simon couldn’t help it. Despite every hint and every word they’d spoken that had indicated as much, hearing Mattie say that made him snort with laughter and look away with a flush. He looked back to see Mattie grinning at him.
“You don’t have to say anything, and I know it’s not going anywhere, but… my God, you’re cute.”
“Would you stop that?” Simon laughed quietly, feeling nervous. “If you’re not careful, you’ll make me blush.”
“You’re already blushing.”
“I’m thirty-three. I don’t blush anymore.”
“Oh yeah, you do. And it’s doing all sorts of things to me.”
Simon smiled; it was nice to flirt again. “You sure it’s not the single-dad thing?”
“Let me guess, you got all those moms at Jamie’s preschool sighing and fawning over you.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Don’t lie, and yeah, seeing a guy so devoted to a little kid does send the old heart a-fluttering, but that’s not it.”
He was hesitant to fish, but…. “Then what is it?”
Mattie shrugged. “It’s just you. Quiet, intellectual, unassuming, human, struggling-like-the-rest-of-us, and cute as hell you.”
Simon blinked in surprise, and, oh hell, he really was blushing now. “Goddamn,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“In another life, one far less complicated, I’d be swept off my feet right about now.”
Mattie looked down at his lap, a sad smile touching his lips. “Shame. Maybe we’ll run into one another and have a go at it next time around.”
“Maybe,” Simon said quietly, then shook his head. “We got all serious again.”
“Yes, we did. We keep doing that.”
Simon forced a bright smile. “So tell me about you. Something happy, I want to see you light up. Tell me about your art.”
“‘My art’, that always sounds so pretentious to me.”
“Shut up and talk,” Simon laughed.
“Okay, well, I paint.”
“Oil? Watercolor?”
He smiled. “Depends on my mood or what supplies I have.”
“Well elaborate, mister artist,” he teased.
“I like to work on canvas, and I usually use oils, but recently I tend to lean more toward water-soluble oil paint, rather than traditional oils.” He rubbed his thumb and first two fingers together. “It’s a different texture and has something called emulsifier in it which allows the paint to be thinned by water.” He shrugged, his hands going back in his pockets. “Gives a different, almost… wistful effect, and it stretches the paint—makes it last.”
“Everything you just said—all sounds very impressive.” Simon grinned.
Mattie laughed. “I don’t know much, but art is one thing that seems to stick with me.”
“So is it just painting for you?”
�
��Well.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ve never been one for installations, but I do love to sketch, and I’ve always wanted to get my hands on some clay.”
“Why don’t you?”
Mattie shook his head. “Messy and expensive. I can barely afford canvas.”
“Aren’t there some classes or something in the city you can go to for that?”
“I already pay for my reading and writing classes.” He shook his head, looking away. “At the moment that feels more important.”
“So you can get a better job?” Simon asked softly.
“Not so much that….” He bit his lip. “I’m aiming to take my GED soon. There’s this… this art school in New York, and I want to go there. I want to do better for myself.”
“Mattie,” Simon said softly and without a hint of condescension. “That is great.”
“Thing is, you can’t get in without a GED, and there’s an entrance essay too.” He sighed.
“I think you’ve got it in you.”
“You do, huh?” He smiled.
“I don’t know you well, but it’s like you said, it’s not often you make this kind of introduction or connection with someone new. So I say yeah, you’ve got it in you.”
Mattie pressed his lips together to keep the smile from splitting across his face. “Thanks,” he uttered quietly instead.
Simon looked away, suddenly desperate to get onto a lighter topic. “So,” he said brightly. “What’s your poison? Composition, conceptual, abstract, symbolism, portraits, landscapes?”
Mattie laughed. “I have to pick just one?”
Simon was about to say something teasing when his stomach interrupted him with a gurgle. Mattie laughed and raised an eyebrow.
“Is papa bear hungry by any chance?”
Simon grinned sheepishly. “It would appear so, and I am not a bear.”
“This is true.” Mattie stood up from the bench. “I guess you’d better head off, unless… I mean, if you don’t have to get back yet, we could….” He trailed off, one brow raised in question.
Simon stood, hooking his bag back over his head. He hesitated. “Um… that’d be nice, but—”
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