by Leanne Davis
She cuddles me, exhausted but back to her usual, more amiable self. I sometimes get very concerned at the violent reaction she displays in her tantrums once she’s set off. I often think something is seriously wrong with her, only to see her act loving, smiling, and being her sweet self for days on end. The tantrum soon fades from my memory along with the intensity and disheartening images that are almost frightening at times. Her behavior, as inappropriate and extreme as it might be, seems to pale in comparison to whatever day it is and what’s going on.
Holding Dayshia while Kaeja waits, I realize she’s right about everything. I’ve never found a way to merge the phases of my life. Not from my past to now to what I want for the future. I’m so busy caring for Dayshia and making it through every damn day that I haven’t thought about the things Kaeja wants to know, and deserves, but this is why. Dayshia takes up all my time and thoughts. Honestly? Maybe other new parents are better equipped than me but I have to do my best with what I have.
I kiss her head and realize it’s time to try something. Just to see. To try again.
Taking a deep breath with my baby in my arms, I head out to the living room. It’s time to finally live a full life. Not just a reactionary one.
KAEJA
He won. My heart melts. There is no way I can resist or deny my ovaries are aching when I am faced with that. Him. And her. What could be sexier than a grown man in black jeans and a t-shirt cuddling a tired, sleepy toddler against his chest? Her plump, brown, little arms are wrapped around his neck and her body is pressed against his chest. The blissful expression of unconditional trust, comfort, love, and her place with the man holding her is obvious. His large hands prop up the back of her tushy, so big they cover her entirely. His chest and arms reduce her to the size of a little doll next to him.
My entire essence melts. Aches. Crap. There is nothing that could undo my qualms and all the points I planned to hammer home faster than this. I’m defeated.
Dayshia’s face turns more when she notices me. Her cheeks are tracked with tears and her eyes are heavy with fatigue. She stares at me without expression, registering that I am here, but she has no reaction to me.
I respond to her. My chest aches and my throat knots with emotions. Ireena is so visible in her face. But Ireena isn’t here, I am. And I want nothing more than these two in my life. But how? In what way?
Is it love?
Do I love him? Could I love him and her? Is he offering that? Someday? Wanting someone and foreseeing a healthy relationship, which has not been his experience to date, doesn’t necessarily mean love. Not the love I want. I want the kind that’s everything and I won’t settle for anything less.
He brought his daughter to me.
That does something big to my heart.
“Dayshia, do you remember our friend, Kaeja? You used to stay with her a lot.” He talks with a quiet, soothing tone to her. A bit of baby-talk, but soothing in his deep voice. She keeps her head resting on his collarbone, her gaze flickering to me and then away. She doesn’t react.
He sits down near me and she cuddles up under his chin more. “She gets so tired after these events.”
“Yes.” I stare at her. I’m entranced. She’s beautiful as any child, but there’s heightened interest from my connection to her as a baby. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since I was close to her.”
His gaze meets mine and I touch her foot. It’s bare so I rub the soft underside. She doesn’t laugh at the tickles.
“I want you to know her.”
Wearily, my gaze meets his. “As Ireena’s best friend who can teach her about her mother?”
“Yes. I want her to know about her mother. She’ll have questions I can’t answer for her. I’m trying to do the best that I can.”
“I think I can help you with that.”
“Yes. But even more I want you to be here because of me.” He clears his throat. Nerves seem to make him do that more often. “I want her to know you as my friend.”
I raise my eyebrows, and my mouth is still tilted down, unsmiling and unsure. “Even if you suck at it?”
He smiles and his hand snakes out to grab mine. He squeezes it. “Yeah. But I have a huge capacity to learn. Remember when you first met me? Could you have ever imagined me as a single dad? I’d have laughed and told you to go to hell. Look at me now.”
Dayshia’s head lifts and she starts to wiggle around. Damion leans down and blows air on her cheek until she finally smiles. She grabs his face. “Dad-dy!” Her squeaky voice emphasizes the second syllable.
Oh, God, it’s really bad for my inner womanhood to watch too much of this. Not only am I attracted to the man as a sexy, hot, single, handsome guy with a job and all the qualities that make him a good person, but crap! The baby cuddling? Oh, it’s like using a blowtorch on my womb and heart.
He doesn’t insist that she acknowledge me or force me on her. Instead, he grabs her hand. “Hey, should we show Kaeja how we rock the train world, huh?” He glances at me. “She isn’t into dolls. But anything train-related or train-themed, from toys to books and she’s in.”
Dayshia jumps up when she hears the word, train. Not much for words otherwise. She runs to a door, opens it and comes back with a tote she sets down. Damion sits on the floor and they open it up. He glances my way. “She’s particular about what she likes. Come see her vast collection of trains.”
And I do. I sit there and we go through all of her trains. She doesn’t show me per se, but once in a while, she glances right at me. I feel as if she’s smarter than me in the way her gaze pierces mine, as if she’s X-raying me to see my inner heart. She looks too long, or not at all. She’s a bit disconcerting that way and interacting with her keeps me on my toes. She is totally enmeshed with her daddy and stays right between his spread legs. She leans back on him. She uses his fingers and hands to make him play with her precious trains as she wants. She looks up and smiles at him and then away quickly. Whatever the man failed to do this week, I can see why as he interacts with Dayshia. I observe the complete focus he gives her. She isn’t just an afterthought or fleeting concern. She’s it. His entire being.
I think I underestimated what it meant to have Dayshia in his life. I didn’t fully understand. And I didn’t give him enough leeway. Or at least, I wasn’t planning to, but now after so short a time with them, I get it in a way no words could describe.
“Dinner?” His smile deepens. “I’m thinking chicken nuggets and fries. Sorry. I wasn’t planning on you being here. But it’ll be the last time. I’ll keep some kale and almond milk in the fridge for the next time you come here for dinner.”
“Yeah.” I smile softly. “I can handle chicken nuggets and fries this time. But maybe next time, we could plan it and get the ingredients and make it an us meal.”
“Maybe that can be more than just next time.”
My breath catches, our gazes hang on each other, and it seems like his actions might finally match his damn words. I nod. We get up to eat the most casual dinner ever, one I should hate, but for once, it is almost perfect.
Chapter 11
DAMION
Holding Dayshia in my arms, she buries herself against my chest. I rub her head with my hand flat in the usual, repetitive caresses of comfort. She’s often in my arms, or on or near me. She doesn’t like strangers or new situations. Not at all. To the degree that it can set off one of her more epic tantrums. She uses words that aren’t always correct for what she wants. She speaks her own language in a way. She understands everyone perfectly clear. There isn’t anything her sharp, little gaze and brain fails to process. Ask her to find or do anything and she’ll suddenly run off on her little legs and come back with whatever you said to find or do. Every. Single. Time. Her words, however, are still off. She points and grunts to communicate too often. She calls things the wrong names, and consistently. It frustrates her no end.
She’s also very particular about with whom she interacts. She doesn’t quickly warm up to anyon
e and there are some people she simply refuses to acknowledge. I can’t always predict her behavior or why she does it. Luckily, she’s hyper-bonded to my parents, as well as Devon and Claudia. But to people beyond that small circle, she can be very cold and suspicious.
We’re at the pediatrician’s office for her two-year-old well child check. She usually perks right up at seeing the doctor, a female, and she seems to enjoy the doctor’s bedside manner.
“Hello, Damion, Dayshia,” Dr. Mansfield says when she enters. She sits down on a stool and clicks the computer to review Dayshia’s chart updates while making conversation. “How is Dayshia? Any changes in her life?”
“Yes. My brother who helped co-parent her has recently married and moved in with his wife. So he’s not living with us anymore and Dayshia’s been having a tough time since then.”
“Tough? How?”
“More frequent tantrums. She reacts like a hair trigger now. And once she starts… well, I can’t get her to stop. I just put her in her room, keep her safe and let her work through it.”
“Which is so much harder to do than say.”
“You can’t even imagine. I feel like the biggest loser and failure. Then she screams more and I sit there, confused why I can’t get her to stop.”
“You’re doing the right thing. Her only tool to stop such behavior is for her to learn to soothe herself, which takes less stimuli and this will work if you stick to it. It might take ten, fifty or hundred times… it depends on the child,” she says kindly. In many ways, she’s letting me off the hook for the failure that I am. “Well, let’s get that precious baby up here and check her out.”
Dayshia tightens her arms around my neck and whips her head around to stare at Dr. Mansfield with a solemn, serious, almost sour expression. Dayshia’s inherently so physically appealing that her often surly scowl doesn’t mar her near perfection and attractiveness to others.
“Hi, Dayshia. Do you remember me? You liked my stealth-a-scope last I remember…” Dr. Mansfield is obviously used to dealing with hard-to-impress toddlers like mine. Dayshia squints her eyes and gives the doctor a once-over but she reaches out for the round disc of the stethoscope that the doctor carries as a spare, just for this reason. Lots of kids love to grab it and it almost has a hypnotic affect.
Finally, Dayshia loosens her death grip on my neck and leans forward to grab the medallion that her little brain sees. I set Dayshia on the exam table, and she glances at me, her eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement, and then goes back to her treasure. She all but ignores the doctor’s examination. The doctor uses the real stethoscope to listen to her heart. I always find this part particularly stressful. SCAD, the disease Ireena died from, might be a hereditary condition. But just because her mother died of it at a young age, it doesn’t mean Dayshia is at greater risk. Nonetheless, I can’t shake the horror of the experience and I worry all the time about it.
Dr. Mansfield glances at me as she holds Dayshia’s wrist to take her pulse. When she finishes, she pats Dayshia’s arm. “Healthy as a horse.” She grins, and then her tone becomes more serious. “Truly, Damion, Dayshia’s heart sounds perfect, as well as the rest of her vital signs.”
I nod and bite my lip. “I just can’t shake the bad feeling I always get. The same could have been said of Ireena.”
“It was a tragic, freak condition. I don’t blame you or your concerns or nerves. But if you find it getting too out of control, especially as Dayshia gets older, I strongly recommend you talk to someone. Or perhaps get some help in managing your own anxiety.”
“I don’t have anxiety,” I argue immediately. “Well, I mean, I do. Everyone does or we wouldn’t be alive, right? But it’s manageable, I believe.”
She tilts her head and smiles as one would while coaxing a child to give back a treat he stole. “That’s good. But if you do, there’s no shame in getting extra help and lots of people take anti-anxiety meds in some form or another. You had a major life-altering shock. It’s bound to have lasting effects on you.”
“And Dayshia?” I live in dread I’m hurting her without realizing it. “Am I emotionally scarring her?”
“No. It’s your own concerns I was merely commenting on.” She continues her examination and asks several more questions.
Near the end of the examination, just before she leaves to let the nurse come in to administer Dayshia’s immunizations, Dr. Mansfield sits heavily on her stool and leans until she is eye level to where I sit in the spare chair in the room. Dayshia is now in my lap. She’s playing around with the stethoscope still.
“Damion, I’m going to tell you something and I know it might be hard to hear, but I think it is serious enough to warrant a conversation.”
I sigh. Not wanting to explore my anxiety. Or listen to her prodding me for counseling or anxiety pills. I’m okay. I just worry about my daughter because I’m so far out of my comfort zone that I don’t always know what I’m doing.
“Look, I worry, but I don’t think I suffer from abnormal anxiety or depression. Just reasonable concerns considering how unexpectedly Dayshia’s mother died.”
She nods. “I realize the shock. I was just throwing out suggestions, not pretending to have a full knowledge of it. But what I really wanted to talk about might come as another shock… Looking into your family history, and after noticing some indicators in Dayshia’s interaction with me… and with you…”
I tilt my head as she speaks. My stomach is clenching. There’s something that I don’t know about? Some medical problem on Ireena’s side? I wonder. Shit. What?
“What is it?” I ask, almost breathless.
“I think you should have Dayshia tested for autism. I see here your dad has high- functioning autism?”
I sit back, stunned. My mouth pops open. The things Dad noticed. No, not her pediatrician. No… oh, fuck no. Autism? Dayshia? No.
“My dad has Asperger’s.” All that really means to me is Dad was less emotional in his reactions to things. He felt all the things everyone else did, even if they weren’t visible in how he described them or in his tone. An endless love and caring existed between my parents and they seemed to bring out each other’s strengths. Dad was calm, always the safe port in the tempests of life. Mom was affectionate, and she never withheld it.
“Asperger’s… yes, it’s now called high-functioning autism. The spectrum of autism spectrum disorder goes from A to Z in its symptoms and the effects on a person’s life and those around them. Your dad is high-functioning?”
“You wouldn’t know. Hell, I didn’t really know it. It’s never had a negative effect on my life. He’s just… my dad. He’s always been there for me and Devon. He’s quiet and kind and helpful and stable. Always.”
“Yes. It’s not a negative thing. But it is a difference. I’m seeing the signs in Dayshia. I know it’s surprising and maybe even hard to hear, but it wouldn’t hurt to have her evaluated.”
I swallow over the sudden thick lump in my throat. “What kind of signs?”
I live with this child. I live for this child. What is she talking about? There are no signs. She’s just Dayshia. Wonderful, difficult, sweet, spicy, smiling, screaming… all the things that make up her essence that I know about. I know all of her. How can this doctor, this stranger, try to tell me something new that I don’t know about my daughter? What the fuck is she talking about?
Why is she saying the same things my damn father said to me?
“She doesn’t make eye contact.”
“She does with me. She’s a bit shy.”
“She’s not shy at all, Damion. Her speech is also delayed.”
“She needs speech therapy then.”
“Yes.” The doctor clicks a pen open and shut once. “You don’t seem completely shocked that I said this.”
I glance away. Damn, she’s good. “My dad had her for a week recently and said he thought there were things about her that he heard his mom saying about him. I just…”
“Don’t want it to be?” Dr.
Mansfield asks gently.
“I love my dad. I would never want him to be any different. I just don’t think Dayshia…”
“The point being she might be, and you don’t know for sure.”
“She says words.” I go back to her last factual point. Evading the truth.
“Well, yes, that is what I wanted to discuss next. Most toddlers learn to speak from watching the mouths of those around them. If she isn’t watching because she doesn’t make consistent and ordinary eye contact and observing other people’s faces, she won’t learn to talk like other toddlers her age. Hence the delay.”
“She smiles all the time.”
“At you or as a response to you smiling at her? She does look at you, but not for long. She smiles when she wants to, but has no reaction to do so when instigated by me or you or others. Most children smile when they are smiled at. Dayshia does not. I’ve observed that. Am I wrong?”
“That’s such a typical symptom. She just doesn’t like to be stared at. She’s reserved. And she loves to cuddle. I hold her all the time.”
“No two autistic kids present the same symptoms and they might not even have the same underlying diagnosis. Some take affection from parents. The people who help them navigate the world. And honestly? More indicators are the sensory issues we’ve discussed about her. The feel of certain clothes that launch her into the tantrums you can’t handle, despite doing all the right tricks to soothe a toddler. She’s more demonstrative than most. I really think it’s time to see if there isn’t something more here.”
My shoulders drop like an anvil crashed onto them, which is so dumb. It’s not the first time I’ve thought about or heard this. She does seem highly reactive to sensory stuff, and overwhelmed by anything new. Too many sensory triggers can set her off. Once she snaps, she lacks the ability to filter it out. Neither I nor anything else can calm her.