Page 41 of Retrofit Analysis

“Get out of here,” I growl at him, my voice low, enraged. “You will not speak that way in front of a child and you will not speak that way about Elizabeth.”

He laughs, a cruel sound. “You’re the manners police?” Todd dusts off his slacks and shakes his head, walking toward his car. “I’ll see your ass in court,” he shouts. “You’re going to lose everything and my son will get placed in a proper treatment center for people like him. Enough of this freak show.”

He gets in the car and races down the street. Jake’s eyes are wild with fright and anger. He stomps into the house and slams the door. Elizabeth moves to follow him.

“Beth,” I say, “Please, wait. Please talk to me.”

She shakes her head. “I have to go to him,” she tells me. I see a tear roll down one cheek. “I have to calm him down and I have to call my lawyer to document this before his fucking lawyer sends some sort of injunction.”

“Let me help,” I plead with her, following her toward the house.

“We’re not a project for you, Kellen,” she shouts. “I have to go protect my son before I lose him.”

“Elizabeth, I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. “And I won’t let you lose him. Let me help you.”

She’s crying real tears now and she ignores them as they roll down her cheeks. She makes her way toward the steps. “I can’t make room in my life for anything but Jake,” she tells me.

I think of all the ways I could be helping right now if she would just let me in. I could call the lawyer and give a statement. I could make them dinner while she works with Jake to calm him down.

But she doesn’t let me. She goes inside and I hear the deadbolt turn as her footsteps fade down the hallway. I’m left outside alone.

Thirty-Two

Elizabeth

It takes me hours to convince Jake that he is not going to have to go live in a treatment center. I explain that there isn’t even such a thing for teenagers with his specific abilities. “Jake, you’re thriving in school. You’re in all honors classes and competing in chess and you’re about to graduate advanced social skills at the center.”

We’ve had this same conversation 15 times this evening and I’m drained. I’m exhausted, but he needs to hear it again, to internalize the truth of it, so we go through it again. Finally, Jake looks at me. “What did Dad mean about you fucking the neighbors?”

“Oh, Jake, honey that was just angry talk.”

“Fucking is mating, isn’t it?”

“Sweetie, you really need to stop referring to mating. It’s just not a word you should use with humans. That’s a rule for you to write down in your book, okay?”

He nods, but continues. “But are you fucking with Kellen? You’re not expecting a baby. You said your body can’t gestate anymore babies.”

I close my eyes and swallow. “Kellen and I are friends,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes. “And Kellen and I…were…I’m interested in kissing Kellen and being affectionate with him.”

“He’s very nice,” Jake says.

“That is accurate,” I tell him, adopting one of his favorite phrases. “And I’m very glad you have him as a friend. Especially for the homework help.”

“He was nice today. When Dad was yelling.”

I nod. “That’s very true, babe.”

Jake seems to settle finally and, since we missed Star Wars night, I let him watch it on his laptop in bed.

I make my way to the kitchen, wishing I had alcohol in the house. I consider asking Lisa to drive over with a bottle for me. I consider walking across the street and begging Kellen for some of his whiskey, but I’ve lost the right to ask him those sorts of favors.

He wants a level of intimacy from me that I can’t offer. He wants me to keep him in the loop, to help me with this whole mess. I can’t be his project. How can I focus on anything else at all when I’ve got to protect Jake? It was fun to feel distracted for a bit with Kellen.

I let myself think for a minute that we could move from distraction to something real. But I don’t get to let my guard down and enjoy a relationship. This is what I’ve got right now. I sit at the table and start a long email to Erin. When I hit send, I head to my bedroom and fall into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Saturday evening, Jake and I have to prepare for his social skills celebration. Jake and Dhruv attend a lot of classes at the family center north of the city. Autistic teens work on all sorts of skills, like compromise and reciprocal conversations. This quarter, they’ve focused on strategies to calm down when faced with something unexpected.

“I’ve decided what example of success I will share when it’s my turn to talk,” Jake tells me. The program includes each member sharing a story, which is also meant to inspire the incoming class of teens who generally assume their challenges are insurmountable.