I said goodbye to my family, lifting a sleepy Tad up for a kiss. I relished the morning snuggles I got from him. That was the only time Tadpole was still enough to be cuddly. Morgan took him from me and kissed me again.
I had another one of those days. Luck was falling in my lap—my wife was happy and I couldn’t wait to see her. I loved when we were like this, and I loved when she canceled her play date with our slutty neighbor.
Morgan was waiting for me in the parking lot. I pulled right beside her and got the boys out of the car. She wasn’t as happy as when I left her, but she kissed me, and let me hold her hand while we walked. I didn’t ask what mishap soured her mood, deciding it was best just to move on.
Tad played, building a tower with a little boy Nicky’s age. The kid tried to get Nicky to play, but he looked away, ignoring the kid all together.
“My name is Charlie. Do you want to build a bridge with me?”
Nicholas looked like he was going to answer the kid, and then looked away, breaking eye contact. The kid bounced away and played with Tad instead.
“What?” I asked, looking to Morgan, who was staring at Nicholas.
“Nothing,” she replied, shaking her head.
Tad started to throw a tantrum when Nicholas’s name was called. He was building a tower first. I had to pick him up and whisper in his ear that people were watching him to get him to come quietly. He settled down once we entered the little examining room. I really don’t recall the exact steps things happened from there.
One minute, I was holding Nicholas on my lap, trying to find the hidden objects on the back of a Highlights magazine, and then next, I was looking to Morgan with a warning. I wanted her to shut her mouth and stop answering questions. Questions that I didn’t like. I felt like Morgan did nothing but gang up on Nicholas the whole time. She didn’t look concerned at all. She looked like someone having a normal conversation. This wasn’t a normal conversation. Far from it.
“Shouldn’t we be checking his hearing?” I interrupted. Morgan looked at me like I had just said the most ridiculous thing I could have thought of.
“Drew?” Morgan questioned.
“What? We made an appointment to have his hearing checked. I want his hearing checked,” I said, hearing the shake in my own voice.
“Drew, does Nicholas have any unusual fears?” Dr. Playl asked me rather than Morgan.
“No,” I lied, feeling the air slowly leave my lungs.
“He’s afraid to sleep anywhere but his own bed,” Morgan answered for me. That wasn’t even what I was thinking. I was thinking about his blanket. He was convinced that his blanket would die without him. He had to take care of it. It was cute to me when he argued about it every time we tried to take it, now I questioned what it truly meant. He always told me with so much conviction, like being right at the point of an emotional breakdown. And then there was the fear that I wouldn’t come home.
I’m not sure what that was about. I used to think it was the move to California, and my sudden absence during the day, but listening to the questions Dr. Playl was asking, caused me to wonder. Was that normal? Did all kids have a fear of their dad not coming home?
“Is he very interested in certain things, but excludes other things, Drew?” she asked me again. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at Morgan’s glassy eyes.
“Bridges,” I mumbled.
“Is he able to follow a string of instructions?”
“Does anyone in your family have a history of mental disorders?”
“Does he often ignore people who are talking to him?”
“Does he often repeat himself?”
I don’t remember the answers to the questions. I let Morgan do the talking until Dr. Playl said the words, Asperger’s Syndrome. I didn’t want them to make sense. I’m not sure what I was thinking, or what I was doing. I just knew I had heard enough. My son didn’t need to see a developmental pediatrician.
“Let’s go, Morgan,” I ordered, taking Nicholas from the paper covered table. Grabbing Tad’s hand, I ordered Morgan with my eyes.
“I’ll call to get the details,” Morgan said, betraying her own flesh and blood. That was the first time in years I had gotten angry enough to want to harm Morgan physically. This was all her fault. Had she not insisted we bring him here, he would still be the same Nicky he’d always been.
I walked out in front Morgan and buckled Nicholas in his seat, and then Tad, ignoring the looks Morgan was giving me. She didn’t speak one word. She just looked at me with a look that calmed my anger. My boiling blood cooled with the ice in her eyes. She was scared to death for our son and I was mad at her. I couldn’t face that. I couldn’t accept anything Dr. Fucking Playl said. What the hell did she know anyway? You can’t diagnose anything by asking a series of stupid fucking questions.
“I’ll see you later,” I said coolly.
“Drew?”
I didn’t stop. I blocked out the desperation in her voice and got in my own car. Not once did I look back. I left her standing there, scared and alone. Driving back downtown was a fog. I knew traffic was crazy and I was barely moving, but it was a blur. I didn’t really think anything. Nothing was on my mind. I went blank, totally blank.
My afternoon consisted of avoiding the internet. Asperger’s was magically placed in my search bar numerous times. Research was what I always did. I didn’t believe anything anyone said without my own education of the matter. I didn’t want to be educated on Asperger’s. I didn’t want to know anything about it. I had no reason to learn about it. Nicholas didn’t have that.
I blocked it out instead, working until five o’clock. I routinely drove home at the same time I did every day, high fived my boys at the door, and kissed my wife. Determined to make things better, I showered and joined my family for supper.
Morgan made chicken strips and macaroni and cheese. I was sure Nicky picked supper. Morgan and I avoided conversation, or at least I did. It was easier to listen to Nicholas tell me about the number of covered bridges in Pennsylvania—again. Tad jabbered something about something I could only agree with. I had no idea what he was saying.
“Squidward,” Morgan helped.
“Excuse me?”
“Squidward from SpongeBob. He’s trying to tell you Squidward fell and broke his tentacles.”
“That’s exactly what I thought he said,” I teased, looking across the table to Morgan. She didn’t smile. She was sad, lost, and hurting.
Everything would be fine. I told myself over and over to keep doing what we’ve always done. That’s what I did. I pretended nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. I even made love to Morgan before she rolled away from me and faced the window. Neither of us talked. I didn’t kiss her lips or her neck. I held her close and fucked her slowly, prolonging the intimacy as long as I could.
Not knowing what to say without bringing it up, I held her close to my chest, trying to tell her everything was okay without saying it. I knew I needed to talk to her, share her fears, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t about to accept any nonsense about my kid. Instead, I held her in my arms and tried to ignore the fact that she was crying. I let her cry without a word until she finally cried herself to sleep.
Breakfast was much of the same. Morgan made oatmeal and I ate with Nicky, changing the subject to something else when he wanted to talk about bridges. Tadpole was being a sleepyhead and I didn’t get to see him. I kissed Morgan and told her I loved her the way I always did.
The days Morgan and I avoided the conversation about our son turned into weeks. We both watched Nicholas a little closer, and I was doing my best to teach him why it wasn’t okay for him to get his way all the time. I noticed for the first time Nicholas couldn’t look at me. I always thought he did that to be a brat, just to push my buttons, but keeping his eyes on mine were impossible. He couldn’t do it, and I didn’t understand why.
“You haven’t been out with your friends in a while,” I stated to Morgan one evening in bed. We’d just laid do
wn and turned the television to the news.
Morgan continued to put whatever that white stuff was on her face. She looked at herself through the mirror and not me like she normally did. She always talked to me through the mirror while she put on her night face.
“Yeah, Chelsea and I don’t really talk anymore,” she replied, avoiding eye contact with me.
“Why?” I asked, surprised and raising up a bit. Something had to have happened between them for them to just stop talking like that.
Morgan shrugged one shoulder and commenced brushing her hair. “I told her about Nicholas.”
“What about him?” I asked, swinging my legs over the bed to sit in a straighter stance, facing her.
“About what the doctor said. I thought I could talk to her about it, about my concerns.”
Although I was instantly pissed at her for running her mouth about our business to the neighbor bitch, I bit my tongue and played along. I knew what she was doing. This was her way to get me to talk about it, open up. Fuck that. She had no business talking to other people about our life. “So why aren’t you talking to her?”
Morgan shrugged the same shoulder. “It’s not me. She stopped talking to me. I think she’s afraid Nicky is going to give her kids something.”
I wasn’t pissed before. I was pissed now. I wanted to walk next door and twist her fucking neck off. “Why are you talking about our son with her?” I stood and walked slowly behind her, trying to calm my temper.
“Because I needed someone to talk to, Drew. We have to talk about this. Don’t tell me you haven’t done research on it. We need to take him to the developmental pediatrician.”
“He doesn’t need a developmental pediatrician, and you don’t need to be talking to anyone about anything. Do you understand, Morgan? Don’t fucking talk about our lives. You got it?” I bent behind her and glared at her through the mirror with a cold, threatening pierce. My hand went through her robe, over her shoulder and down her arm.
“Drew, we need to discuss this. You can’t live in denial forever,” she pleaded through her reflection.
My hand trailed her arm, over her right breast, and to her neck. Her fingers wrung my wrist when I tightened my grip, just a little. It wasn’t a hurtful action as much as it was a warning. “We clear?” I asked in a low tone. “No more talking to anyone about our son. Right?”
“Yes, Drew,” she replied, holding her breath. I let go when I realized I was scaring her. I spun into the bathroom and closed the door. I was seconds away from forcing Morgan to her knees. After turning the shower on, I stood under the hot water and tried to get rid of the hard-on pulsating between my legs. I really needed to call Deidra. The urges to go back seemed to get stronger as more shit was dumped in my lap. Shit that my wife didn’t have to create. I dropped my head to the shower tile and squeezed pre come to the head of my dick.
Thinking about things I was doing to my wife, I jerked off, visualizing her ass up in the air while I used a foreign object in it. Picturing the anal beads going in and out of her ass, I pumped my cock in my fist.
Morgan was clear to the edge of the bed and facing the window when I returned, feeling much better about my boundaries. That didn’t change the fact that I had no idea what to say to her. So I did what I had been doing. I didn’t say anything. I scooted close to her and placed my arm over her waist. She moved it and rolled to look at me.
“Is this where we are, Drew?”
“Where, Morgan?” I asked, exasperated with her. “Why do we have to be anywhere? Why can’t we just be here? Right here, alone in our bedroom. What is it you’re talking about without the games?”
“Games? I’m wondering why the fuck my husband has to jackoff in the shower when I am right here, and that means I’m playing games?”
“That’s not why I did that, Morgan. Why didn’t you say something, I would have pulled you in with me.”
“It was obvious you didn’t want me.”
“Like you would let me touch you anyway. You always play this game.”
“Are you serious right now? I withhold sex from you when I’m mad? That’s the only fucking time we have sex, Drew.”
“Oh, so every time you spread your legs and let me fuck you, it’s only because you’re mad at me.”
“You’re an ass. We don’t have to have sex at all. You’re free to beat off in the shower anytime you want,” Morgan yelled.
“Maybe I will. You think you’re the only female that has a pussy?”
“Of course, my high school boyfriend. Go there. Better yet, go find it somewhere else. See if I give a shit.”
Morgan rolled over, pushing my hand away from her, covered herself up to her neck, and curled in a little ball. I spat something else about not having sex and she ignored me, letting me have the last word. I hated when she did that. I would rather her be screaming profanities at me than ignoring me. It was a guy thing. I could pout and act like a high school boyfriend, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t supposed to be the one doing the ignoring.
I made sure I was up before Drew. I didn’t care if he never touched me again. I didn’t care about him getting off in the shower. He thinks I was born yesterday. I know what that was about. He was fighting demons. Demons that wanted to do things to me. I didn’t disclose the fact that I did the same thing after watching him. He didn’t need to know that part. The only thing this was about was Nicholas. Unlike my stubborn husband, I had been doing research.
I mixed up a bowl of pancake mix and twisted away from Drew when he came out dressed with Nicky on his back.
“Okay…” he said, getting it. Idiot. Like I was just going to wake up and pretend like he wasn’t depriving our son of getting the help he needed.
“Nicholas, we’re going to the Shakespeare Bridge today, remember?” I asked, pouring his pancake to the hot griddle. Drew pretended to listen to all the details about the Shakespeare Bridge while he glared at me.
“Do you think that’s a good idea? I thought you wanted him to take some interest in something else.”
“I’m sure. Do you want one or two pancakes?” I asked, staying clear of an argument. I was spending the day with my boys in Franklin Hills. I wasn’t going to be mad all day.
“Why didn’t you ask me to go?”
“You’ve got work. We’re just going to walk across the bridge and eat lunch someplace.” I knew that upset Drew. He would want to see the look on Nicholas’s face, witness his excitement. Dammit. Shit. I hated guilt.
“Do you want to go, Drew?” I asked, flipping his pancake.
“You don’t want me to.”
“I do, I want you to go to the bridge,” Nicholas had to help, shoving the guilt knife in a little deeper.
I wasn’t going to beg him and it was too early for Drew’s games. “Do you want to go or not, Drew?”
“No, I’ll go next time, okay, buddy? Daddy’s got work to do today.”
I sat alone with Nicky, eating his pancake. Drew kissed him on the cheek and told me he would see me later. I couldn’t remember the last time Drew left without kissing me goodbye. Yeah, I spun away from him earlier, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try. I rubbed the aching in my head and took a deep breath.
I didn’t like where we were and I didn’t know how to get away from it. Drew needed to own the fact that our son wasn’t like other five-year-old little boys. I got it. I knew he was hurt, I knew it was scary, but dammit, he was thinking about himself and not Nicholas. Wishing I hadn’t been so cold with Alicia, I felt an overwhelming longing for my friend. My true friend. The one that would hold Nicky in her arms and kiss every inch of his face. Not the one next door who was afraid my child would rub off on her kids. I wanted Alicia.
If she would just call me, I could swallow my pride and apologize for acting like such a stuck-up bitch. Birds of a feather really do flock together. When I was hanging around Chelsea and the other stuck-up women, I acted like them. When I was around Alicia, I acted like me, the true me. It wasn’t that
I was afraid of Alicia saying I told you so. She would never do that. She would move on from there and tell me everything was going to be okay. If I needed to believe that at any time in my life. It was now.
I should have never let this many weeks go by without talking to her. Every day it got harder and harder to call. I knew Drew talked to Celeste, but I also knew he didn’t tell her what was going on. He wouldn’t even admit it to himself yet. Besides, Celeste would have told Alicia and I would have gotten an immediate phone call.
“Hey, you want to go to the beach house for a few days? Go see Grandma and Grandpa?” I asked across the table to Nicky. “Good morning, little man. Did you go potty?” I asked, scooting back for Tad to slide across my lap.
“Uh-uh, and we go to a bridge a day,” Tad remembered from the night before. I was surprised he remembered. I told him when he was seconds away from falling asleep.
“I don’t like to go there,” Nicholas assured me. I stood and moved Tad to my chair to get his pancake ready.
“Why not? Don’t you want to see Grandma and Grandpa?”
“Yes, but every time we go there, Aunt Licia takes my room. I don’t like sleeping on the couch. I’m not supposed to sleep on the couch.”
I smiled at Nicholas, understanding his dilemma more now. Everything in me knew that he had this thing called Asperger’s. I read about how children get upset when their routines are altered. It truly upset him. He wasn’t just being a brat. It devastated him, and made me feel like a horrible mom for not picking up on it.
“I don’t think their coming, but if they do, we’ll put her on the couch. Just you, me, and Tad.
“And Daddy,” Nicky announced, licking syrup from his fingers. Ugh. What a mess.
“Daddy has to work.”
“Well, he has to come with us to there,” Nicholas assured me. This was so hard. Was that a trigger for him, too? Did he need Drew to feel safe? I had to put Nicholas before Drew and go over his head with this specialist. I needed help with something I knew, with all my heart, my son was dealing with. Drew was just going to have to be mad and own up to the fact that our son was not perfect. I let it go when Tad started talking about the bridge.
An Underestimated Christmas (Underestimated 3) Page 6