As Tears Go By

by Lydia Michaels

  She twisted and faced Hunter. “Why don’t you have a banana, buddy? And when I come inside in two minutes, I’ll make lunch.”

  Hunter rubbed his ear on his shoulder and worked his jaw as he studied Braydon from the corner of his eye. His wrist twisted as his fingers tightened. He was stimming—self-stimulating—which usually meant he was experiencing anxiety, fear, or anger, but it could also be his way of blocking out the distractions overwhelming him. Most likely he was anxious since a man he’d never seen before was standing on their porch.

  Panicking that Braydon might ask something hurtful, her entire being tensed in preparation. If he crossed a line, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold it together. It wouldn’t be the first time a stranger pointed and rudely asked what was wrong with her son. Constant persecution and memories of Hunter’s feelings getting hurt threw her into Momma Bear mode.

  “Hunter, go wait for me in the kitchen. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  “One twenty.”

  “Yes.”

  The door closed and she faced Braydon. His brow was drawn with confusion. “I didn’t know you had children. I saw a picture in your office, but I just assumed it was a nephew or relative.”

  “Hunter’s my only child.”

  “How old is he?”

  Very aware of the time ticking by, she quickly answered, “He’s eight and I need to go be his mother right now.”

  He took a step forward. “Can we go out sometime? Does your ex take him on the weekends or something?”

  A humorless laugh slipped out, because, of course, he only wanted that part of her, not the part including her child. It was foolish of her to have led him to believe one was separate from the other.

  That was exactly what she’d tried explaining to Nikki about men not wanting to date a woman with a situation as complicated as hers. “That’s not going to work either, Braydon. On the days I’m by myself I’m usually so whipped I can barely hold my head up straight. I need that time to recuperate. I think you should find someone else. I’m sorry.” She needed to go inside. No matter how logical her words were, her heart grew heavy with sorrow and longing that there wasn’t more she could offer. She really did like him, but her time was already pledged to her son.

  Regretfully, she hung her head and said, “I have to go.”

  Scooping up the flowers, she shut the door behind her, pressing her back into the glass. No one had brought her flowers…ever. It was a shame she couldn’t be happier about them.

  Chapter Four

  Braydon sipped his beer and stared at the bottles along the mirrored wall in front of him. Becca had a son. A son who obviously had special needs. Funny, there was no way he could have known that, but he kept beating himself up as though he should have.

  Recalling every encounter, he made sure he hadn’t been a moron and somehow missed the moment she mentioned having a child. Nope. She hadn’t mentioned it.

  Of course, that was probably because she’d never intended to see him again, and when their paths crossed she’d done nothing but make it perfectly clear how disinterested she was in pursuing a relationship. Her inexplicable reluctance to date suddenly made sense.

  Problem was, Bray had done nothing but fantasize about the perfect woman who’d been in his bed and left all too soon. Realizing now her life was far from perfect, he also acknowledged he knew nothing about special needs kids.

  His sister in law, Sammy, sometimes taught students that needed a little extra attention and Bray could recall a kid from grade school that had seizures, but that was the extent of his knowledge on the subject. His ignorance made him feel like even more of a jerk.

  How could he be so incredibly naïve in this day and age? Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his phone and connected to the bar’s Wi-Fi. Opening up the Internet, he searched, Special Needs Children, which entered him into an overwhelming world of blurbs and articles on everything from peanut allergies to cerebral palsy. How was he supposed to know what each condition looked like?

  He typed in, What does special needs look like? And came across images of everything from kids in wheelchairs to kids that looked just like his nieces and nephews.

  “Shit.” This was getting him nowhere.

  Tossing a twenty on the counter, he finished his beer and left. When he got back to his apartment he called his oldest brother. “Hey, Colin.”

  “Hey, Bray. You coming home this weekend? It’s been a while.”

  Braydon collapsed on his couch. “I’ve been busy with a new deal our firm’s handling. Probably won’t be home for a while still. How’re the kids?”

  “Kids are good. Sammy’s still not ready to try for another one yet. I’m okay with that. You’ll never guess who is expecting though.”

  Family news was always a welcome distraction. “Who? Mallory can’t be pregnant again.”

  “Not Mallory.”

  “Ash?”

  “Nope, Ashlynn’s not either.”

  He thought for a minute. “Do not say Kate.” His eldest sister already had five kids. She should be done. “Oh my God, Shei-devil?”

  “Wrong again.” That was a little disappointing since Sheilagh and Alec had been trying, but their situation was complicated.

  “Who then?”

  Colin laughed. “Luke.”

  “Wait, what?” Luke was his older brother. He was married, sort of, but his spouse’s name was Tristan. “How is that possible?”

  “They’ve been talking about it for a while. I hooked them up with a few agencies that help place abandoned babies. It’s sort of a spur of the moment situation that only crops up so often. But they should be getting approved any day now.”

  “That’s nuts! Are they ready to have a baby?”

  “Tristan definitely is. Luke’s more worried about being physically prepared. He’s putting an addition on the back of the barn and Mom and Dad’s garage is full of all sorts of crap they’ve been buying. I think he’ll be fine once he feels in control.” Colin laughed. “Like any parent has control. It should be fun to watch.”

  “How likely is it they’ll get a call?”

  “Don’t know. Guess it depends when their son or daughter’s born and how soon the agency approves their application.”

  Braydon whistled, loving Colin’s positive attitude. “It’s like baby roulette.”

  “I’m happy for them. I think they’ll be great fathers.”

  “Speaking of kids, is Sammy around?”

  “Yeah. You wanna talk to her?”

  “If you don’t mind. I have a question for her about…a friend’s kid. Since she’s a teacher and all…”

  “Sure. Hold on. Samantha! Bray’s on the phone!”

  Bray chuckled. “Hey, Col.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Remember when you used to be the quiet one?”

  Colin laughed. “A lot’s changed. Here she is.”

  Braydon waited as Colin handed over the phone and Sammy gave him instructions on making sure Lula, their eldest, brushed her teeth properly.

  “Hey, Bray.”

  “Hey, beautiful. I got a question for you.”

  “Shoot. You just saved my butt from bath time with the hooligans. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

  “I met this woman.”

  “Oooooh.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Settle yourself. Anyway, she has a son.”

  “Really? Interesting.”

  “He’s… Why is that interesting?”

  “Oh, come on, Bray. We all know how you cling to perfection. It’s fun when life throws curveballs—especially to you.”

  “Well, God definitely pegged me in the head with one today.”

  “It’s a kid, Braydon, not a nuke.”

  “I know, but her situation’s a little different.”

  “Different how?”

  “God, I don’t want to say this wrong. I think her son’s…special?”

  “Special like you like him a lot or special like he has an IEP?�
��

  “What would a kid be doing with a bomb?”

  “Not an IED, you ass. An IEP. An Individualized Education Program.”

  “Oh, he probably has one of those. He looks somewhere between eight and ten.”

  “What disability is he living with?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I don’t know.”

  “Did you ask?”

  “I can’t ask that!”

  “Why not? If you’re interested in this woman and this is her son, she’s aware he’s different. If you like her, you better get comfortable with his dissimilarities, Bray. If it makes you uncomfortable, back out now. Single moms don’t have time for games. Single moms of children with special needs have less.”

  He frowned. He wasn’t an asshole. “I’m not a jerk, Sammy.”

  “I know you’re not, but I also remember what it was to be your girlfriend. You can be very self-involved and you weren’t always there when I needed you.”

  Ouch. “I was a kid, Sam. I’m thirty years old now.”

  “And I hope you’ve grown up, especially if you’re thinking about dating a woman with a child. Take away the unique technicalities for a minute. Kids are loving little beings and they get attached. You need to go into this fully aware of what you’re agreeing to.”

  He sighed. This was getting way more complicated than he anticipated. “I haven’t done anything yet.” Not really. “But I like her. A lot. I just need to understand her situation better.”

  “Well, what’s her son like?”

  “He looks normal.”

  Sam huffed. “Keep away from that term. No kid is one hundred percent normal. Lula won’t stop eating her boogers, and one of Finn’s boys pooped in the lake this summer and proceeded to use the turd as a battleship.”

  Bray laughed. “You mean a battleshit.”

  “Whatever. My point is, no parent likes that term, especially when their kid doesn’t fit society’s definition. Describe what you saw and maybe I can help.”

  “Well, I only saw him for a minute. At first I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but then he started, like, twitching.”

  “Like tics or stimming?”

  “Uh, I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

  “A tic could be Tourette’s, you know, when people have outbursts with curses, but verbal tics are less common than physical tics. They’re sort of like tiny flinches.”

  “What’s the other thing you said?”

  “Stimming. That’s different. Stimming’s a behavior that calms or is intended to calm. It’s triggered. A lot of children with autism stim, but it usually fades as they get older and learn more self-control.”

  “What’s it look like?”

  “Depends. We all stim. It can be as simple as twirling hair or biting nails. It’s just a form of self-comforting. When autistic people do it, it can be anything from flapping their arms to punching themselves.”

  “Punching themselves?”

  Sammy sighed. “Yeah. It’s a complicated neurological disorder and no case is alike. Did your girlfriend’s son flap?”

  “Not really. He sort of twitched and moved his jaw. His head rotated like he was cracking his neck and his hands contorted. I don’t think he liked me.”

  Sammy laughed. “Sorry. No. If this boy’s autistic or is on that continuum, he hasn’t formed an opinion about you yet. He’s still trying to digest what you are and why you’re in his environment. A major reason they react differently to the world is because their perception’s completely dissimilar from ours. Their processing’s out of synch. While we see a man standing in front of us, a child with autism sees the buttons on his shirt glistening in the sun. He could be distracted by the scent of his cologne or the sound of the wind in the trees. Every new situation’s overwhelming. Plop a stranger in the midst of an otherwise ordinary day and their brains go on overload.”

  He was on overload. Everything Sammy explained was probably why Becca was so pissed he’d swung by unannounced. Shit. “How do I know if her son’s autistic?”

  “The laziness stops now if you intend to continue with this woman, Braydon. Go to a computer and type in autism. You’ll figure it out.”

  “Why are you being nasty?”

  Sam huffed. “I’m not. I just don’t want to see you hurt this woman or her child.”

  He deflated. In a low voice he asked, “Was I really that terrible of a boyfriend?”

  She sighed. “No, you weren’t. But you always seemed to be the last to know what was actually going on with me. What are their names?”

  “Her name’s Becca and I think her son’s name is Hunter or it could be Buddy.”

  “Okay, well let me put it to you this way. If you date her, it can’t be The Braydon Show. It’s probably never The Becca Show. Her life is that child. Every minute of her day’s tuned to his channel. So you either have to be willing to sit through a lot of uncomfortable episodes or go back to the premium channels you’re used to.”

  “Okay.”

  “You can’t go running off for boat rides and expect them just to pack a lunch and join you without a—”

  “I get it, Sam. You can stop pointing out all my flaws now.”

  She was silent for a second. “You know I love you.”

  “I know. I love you too. I just…I’m tired of not being good enough.”

  “You are good enough, Braydon. You just have to commit to always putting your best side forward and don’t give up when things don’t go as perfectly as you expected. Get rid of your unrealistic expectations and you might actually fall in messy love. Trust me. It’s way better than fake picture-perfect love.”

  “Thanks. I’m gonna go look online.” Haunting insecurities from his past had him hesitating. “Do you think I should forget about her?”

  “If you can’t handle it, then yeah, that’s probably best. But my money’s on you, Braydon. There isn’t much you can’t handle. Put all that optimistic charm to use and you may actually be just what this woman needs.”

  “I’ll let you know what happens. Thanks for talking to me.”

  “Anytime. And when are you coming home? We miss you.”

  “Maybe sometime next month. I miss you guys too. Tell everyone I said hi.”

  When Bray got off the phone he went to his office and powered up his laptop. An hour later he was totally overwhelmed. Concerning autism, finite answers didn’t seem to exist.

  He wound up perusing YouTube and watching documentaries. Then he came across home videos of families living with autism. Shock wasn’t an adequate term for what he was feeling.

  What looked like a normal temper tantrum, the kind that earned him and his brothers a swift kick in the ass as kids, became so much more. The longer he watched, the more he identified the internal struggle each child worked through.

  Some kids got so frustrated their faces flushed beet red, their little bodies tensed, and their parents had to restrain them. He couldn’t imagine Becca dealing with such combative behavior. Then he recalled the bruises on her and everything started to make sense.

  By the time he went to bed he was exhausted. Reading about autism was taxing. Watching parents cope with situations was draining. Imagining sweet little Becca dealing with some of the things he’d witnessed online on a regular basis was impossible. How did she have the strength left to work a fulltime job or have a social life?

  That was when the light bulb finally exploded. This was why she refused to date him. It had nothing to do with her ex or her divorce. It had to do with her plate being full. Hell, her plate was overflowing. And he’d pushed her buttons like an insensitive jerk. Sammy was right, he was set to The Braydon Show and it was time to change the program.

  * * * *

  The week passed quickly. Bray’s nights were spent at home in front of his computer. He’d conducted so much research he deserved some sort of honorary degree. He’d also done a lot of soul searching. Samantha was right. He was a shitty boyfriend. He didn’t kn
ow if he had what it took to date someone like Becca, yet he wanted to.

  A very small but real voice whispered in his head, is she worth it? Was she? This wouldn’t be like dating other women. Dating a mother meant making sacrifices he wasn’t used to. It also meant there wouldn’t be time for childish games. Oddly, that appealed to him. He was done wasting time with momentary companions. It was time for the real deal and Becca was as real as it got.

  However, Becca’s situation was perhaps too real. To be honest, parts of her situation were out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t afraid of her son, of course. No. He was afraid of coming to find out he wasn’t man enough to handle what she seemed to manage on her own.

  There were definitely some shaky confidence issues lingering from his past. Weariness set in as he rubbed his brow. Was she worth it?

  Yes. No matter how insignificant their night together may have been to her, it meant something to him. Beyond the sex, were the similarities in their fields that intrigued him. Seeing her at work validated the self-conscious strength he’d suspected the first night he met her. Their interactions in the office spoke of a chemistry not easily ignored. They connected on a level that was new to him. He didn’t want it to be over. She was enchanting and surely worth his effort. He couldn’t promise his future, but he wanted to explore the possibility of a woman like Becca being a part of it.

  The only thing to do was talk to her. Figuring there had to be some sort of custody arrangement with her husband, he emailed her on Thursday.

  I’d like to get together to talk. Just talk. Please let me know when you have time.

  ~Braydon

  The reply came through that afternoon.

  Braydon,

  I don’t understand what it’s going to take. I thought I made it perfectly clear my life does not allow time for dating. Please stop.

  ~Becca

  So that approach wasn’t going to work. Neither would another surprise attack. It was a shame her feistiness only provoked him. For as timid as she was that night at his apartment, there was an underlying assertiveness to her, very visible in her job, which turned him on. Why he became so focused on this woman was a mystery, but he couldn’t shake the sense that he needed to spend more time with her.