Page 90 of I Could Never

“Hopefully he’ll start to feel better.” He went to the kitchen to rinse out the cup. “It’s strange how the fever makes him calm. Did you notice he wasn’t stimming at all this morning?”

Stimmingwas the term we used for the self-stimulatory behaviors Scottie constantly exhibited, things like hand-flapping and humming.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s fascinating. They should research that, how fevers affect people with autism.”

Josh nodded. “Did you have coffee this morning?”

“No.” I rubbed my temple. “I got distracted and never made it. It’s no wonder my damn head is aching.”

“I’ll make us some,” he said.

“Thanks.”

As I watched him fumble with the coffee pods, I realized how tense he was. I obviously knew why. And I couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“I guess we should talk about last night, or is it better if we don’t?”

Josh froze—literally stopped everything he was doing and leaned against the counter.

He finally turned to me. “I’ve been trying to figure that out. I don’t want you to think I’m blowing it off—just the opposite. I can’t think about anything else. I’m sorry if I’ve been quiet.”

“I know.” I nodded. “I get it. Last night was…”

“Fucking incredible,” he said. “But I haven’t figured out how to handle it.”

“I don’t know how to handle it, either. Maybe we justdon’thandle it and don’t put any pressure on each other to find the right words or make it make sense.” I shrugged. “What happened, happened. It was just sex.”

There it was. One of the biggest lies I’d ever told.

He stared into space for a moment. “I don’t think we should do it again.”

That declaration came as no surprise. It was the same thing he’d said the first time we’d messed around.

“I agree,” I said, though it was the last thing I wanted. No way would I push for something he wasn’t ready for. Maybe it was better if we took a step back, now that we’d gotten it out of our system.

We quietly watched the coffee drip out of the machine. Then my cell phone rang. When I saw that it was Scottie’s social services agency, I put the call on speaker so Josh could listen, too.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Carly Garber?”

“Yes?”

“This is Maxine Gerard from The Johnson Pruitt Center.”

“Yes...”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it seems we have an opening at the group home you’ve applied for. The one on Jones Avenue.”

Josh and I looked at each other.

His eyes widened.

My jaw dropped.

“How is that possible?” I asked. “They told us it could take months, or even years, potentially.”

“Well, as it happens sometimes, family members decide that a different place may be a better fit. There was one resident who seemed to be very agitated by another in this particular house, so one of the families put in for a transfer to another home across the state. And they were approved.”

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