Page 40 of Retrofit Analysis

“You heading home?” I lean back in my chair, my fingers laced behind my head in a posture I’m always chastising my nephews for. Jake nods and walks out of the house without saying goodbye.

Orla raises her brows and turns to me. “He’s very…blunt,” she says.

“Takes one to know one.” I wink at my daughter.

“That’s fair, I guess. I’m glad we aren’t a family that dances around delicate topics.” Orla sighs and blows her hair out of her eyes. “So tell me more about what happened with your lady friend, Dad.”

“You sure? Because my hope is that I get back to a place where you see her here at my house more often.”

She nods. “I mean, I’m not running out to buy her a Christmas present early. But I want to be supportive.” She winks. “I did urge you into this, after all.”

I squeeze her hand and fill her in on my argument with Elizabeth. “I didn’t appreciate what it really meant for Jake to follow such different social rules,” I tell her. “I wish I could take back what I said to Elizabeth about autistic adults being past their challenges.”

Orla considers me and then pulls out her phone. She taps around for a bit and I see she’s pulled up the advocacy site I had naively mentioned to Elizabeth. “This group does workplace trainings,” Orla says, showing me a section of the website I had not visited. “You can pay them to come in and talk about making the office more inclusive, helping with some understanding of autistic brains.”

“Huh.” I squint to look at her phone screen. “We should do that at Beltane.”

She nods. “Obviously. Want me to schedule it?”

I shake my head. “I’d like to do it,” I tell her. “I am the president of the company after all.” I ruffle her hair. “What are you making your old man for dinner?”

Thirty-One

Kellen

I’m able to schedule the workplace training with the autistic advocacy staff for Friday. I spend the entire week looking forward to it, poring over their website and reading about differences in autistic brains compared to neurotypical brains. Neurotypical is a new word for me. I send a company wide email inviting everyone to the training Friday and have our administrative staff reschedule all appointments so everyone is able to attend.

I arrange for a walk through with the trainer after the session, where we will look over the physical work environment and talk about changes I can make there as well. By the end of the day, my Beltane team has listened to countless stories from employees sharing their experiences and created a monthly speaker series plus some support groups for people to vent and get support. I order light diffusing covers for the fluorescent lights and high quality noise canceling headphones for every employee, should they choose to wear those during the work day.

I’m surprised by the number of my employees who self-identify as being autistic and who, like Jake, use the word Aspergers to describe themselves even though that technically doesn’t exist anymore. I leave the afternoon so energized, excited to put words to one of the elements that gives Beltane an edge when it comes to meticulous inspections and innovative, outside-the-box thinking about client challenges.

I drive home eager to knock on Elizabeth’s door, to ask her to please have a conversation with me and listen to all that I’ve learned. I know she likely already knows all of this information, but I want to let her know that I understand Jake’s autism isn’t going anywhere. I know he’s learning techniques to navigate this world, and I know that Elizabeth is his soft landing space.

I want to tell her that I’d like to be a soft landing space for him, too. That maybe between the two of us, we can support him and she’ll feel less…I don’t even know how to finish that thought, but I don’t get the chance. I pull into my driveway and see a commotion across the street.

A man stands in the yard, shouting. It must be Todd Gaston, and I sneer at the thought of him coming here. I get out of the car and decide to stick around, just in case. Just in case of what, I don’t know, but things are getting heated over there.

“You’re coming with me and that’s final,” Todd shouts at Jake, who shakes his head and backs up closer to his porch stairs. “I have legal rights to spend this weekend with you,” Todd sneers, and Jake starts screaming back at his father.

“I don’t want to go with you. No, no, no!” He sinks to the grass and starts rocking back and forth, his hands slapping at the yard. It’s painful to see him so upset and I’m about to walk over when Elizabeth bursts outside.

“Enough, Todd. He doesn’t want to go with you.”

The asshole shakes his head, grinning cruelly. “Of course not, after you poisoned his mind against me. I’m recording this entire thing, you know. Let’s let the lawyers see how our child is frightened of his own father, thanks to whatever bullshit lies you’ve been feeding him.”

“Please do record this, Todd,” Elizabeth says, walking over to Jake to comfort him. “Make sure to send me a copy, too.” She places a hand on Jake’s shoulder and he swats her hand away. “Sweetheart, do you want to go inside?”

Jake starts to scream, a low keening sound. I walk over toward him, unable to stand by while he’s suffering like this. “I think Jake has had enough,” I say to Todd. He snaps his head toward me.

“Who the fuck is this, Elizabeth? Mind your own business,” he spits at me. I ignore him and squat so I can make eye contact with Jake. Jake is the one who matters right now.

He sees me and crawls over toward me on the lawn, surprising me by wrapping his arms around me. I hold him and rub his back as Elizabeth looks at me with tears in her eyes. I reach a hand for hers and squeeze, and I see this is the moment where Todd figures out what I am to her, what I have become to his family.

“You want full custody,” he screams at her. He starts flailing his arms around, still holding his cell phone like he’s recording. “You think you’re fit to care for a disabled child while you’re out fucking this guy? Whoever the hell he is.”

“That will be enough of that,” I tell him, disentangling myself from Jake’s limbs to stand up. “You need to head on out of here and regain your composure. If you ever had any.”

“Fuck you,” Todd glares at me. “You’re behind all this? You encouraging her to bleed me dry? She sat around for years, spending my money and refusing to fuck me. She’ll stop fucking you, too.” He opens his mouth to keep going, but I stand firmly in his space, an inch away from his face.