Once Upon a Road Trip (9 page)

Angie noticed the twitch, but being he didn’t seem to acknowledge it, she decided not to ask. “Maybe somebody torched it for insurance money,” she said. “All I know is, it scared the bajeebers out of me when one of the tires exploded.”

Mark smirked. “It -did- sound reminiscent of a gunshot go—” He paused mid-sentence. His gaze had been wandering about as it usually did while he was speaking, but now seemed frozen on some point along the wall.

Angie’s first instinct was to look across the room at whatever he’d fixated on. Unable to detect anything that seemed worthy of rendering him speechless, she looked back at Mark’s face, unsettled by his silence more than she would have expected. “What is it?” She noticed a tic below his right eye, but nothing else by way of movement. It was as though everything about him had simply stopped. She snapped her fingers in front of his face, and then reached out to tapped his shoulder, increasingly alarmed by his lack of response. “Mark?”

Nothing happened.

She pushed her chair back and stood, pitching her voice toward the kitchen. “Sandy?” She decided her tone hadn’t adequately conveyed the sense of urgency that flooded her mind. “Sandra?!”

Mark’s mother came bustling into the room with the tea tray extended out at her waist, a wondering look sweeping from Angie to her motionless son. “Oh!” She hurriedly slid the tray onto the end of the table as she moved to the other side of Mark. Placing one hand on his elbow and the other on his shoulder, she bent down closer to him. “Mark. Sweetheart.” She glanced down at her wristwatch. 

“Do you need me to do something?” Angie asked, recovering her composure.

“No, no. Just give him a moment,” Sandra said, looking more focused than anxious. “Mark?”

Mark blinked, his eyes resuming their darting course. He looked from his mother to Angie and back, straightening up in his chair. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Sandra kept a hand on his shoulder as she eased back. “You’re late on your medicine tonight, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Am I?” He glanced at his own watch and stood up. “Ah. I’ll remedy that. Was I gone long?” He directed the question to his mother, who looked to Angie in uncertainty.

“Not…long.” Angie answered. “Less than a minute?” 

Having paused long enough to hear an answer, Mark made a low, contemplative noise and continued on into the kitchen.

Sandra went back to the tea tray and brought it to the middle of the table as she sat down. “And that would be why he doesn’t have his driver’s license yet,” she said, looking suddenly worn.

Angie took her seat again and accepted the tea cup that was handed to her. “I take it that was a seizure.” She’d never actually witnessed one before, but one of the advantages to having a nurse for a mother meant an awareness that not all forms of seizures involved overt convulsions.

Sandra nodded. “Nothing to worry about—they’re fairly well controlled. But as you just saw, timing is everything. Especially lately, while they’ve been tinkering with his medication. I may need to have them adjust his doses again. They had such a hard time diagnosing him in the first place, I hate having to keep taking him back.”

“That’s got to be hard on you,” Angie said, taking on a tentative tone as she settled back with her tea.

“It is, sometimes.” Sandra took her time preparing her own cup. “Part of it is just being a mother. I know better than anyone how brilliant he is; how limitless his talents. It just hurts me to see things holding him back. He’s already looking at all of these art colleges off in other states. In a year, it’ll be so much harder for me to be there for him. And it’s never been easy for him to make friends in new places, let alone ones that would look out for him.”

Angie nodded, taking a long sip as she considered the opening she saw for bringing up a nagging concern she had about Mark’s mannerisms. She was fond of Sandra, and she felt sure the sentiment was mutual. The last thing she wanted to do was distress her with an under-qualified impression — or worse, anger her. And yet, the woman had already dared to be straightforward with her out of genuine concern. The least she could do was return the courtesy. “Had I told you I worked for the school system for the last year as a classroom assistant?” she asked, attempting to broach the topic in a roundabout way.

Sandra shook her head and smiled, her soft features easing into a less worried state. “No, you didn’t.”

Angie smiled, looking up from her tea. “I ended up working with age ranges from preschool through high school, with all types of kids. Learning disorders, developmental delays, language barriers, behavioral problems—not all remedial classes, just kids who needed extra attention,” she said, as a preamble. She cleared her throat then and met Sandra’s gaze, hesitant. “I bring it up because…well…there are a few things about how Mark relates to people that I keep finding familiar.” She waited for the woman to look insulted.

Sandra cupped both hands around her steaming teacup and leaned forward, showing nothing more than heightened interest. “How do you mean?”

Angie cast a look toward the kitchen to assure herself that Mark hadn’t wandered back within earshot. “I was wondering...if you’d ever had him tested for Asperger’s.” There, she’d said the ‘A’ word. Not the worst ‘A’ word, but she’d know in a moment if she’d still need to use it to clarify.

Sandra sat back in her chair with a pensive expression. “High-functioning Autism…” she defined the syndrome out loud. Her voice came out detached, calm enough that Angie wasn’t sure if she’d taken her seriously. “No, we’ve never had him tested for it, specifically. Although, I’ve considered it at one time or another. He’s always done so well academically, I’m not sure we should risk him being labeled.” Her brows drew together. “What makes you suspect it?”

Angie released a breath she’d been holding a little too long, relieved the woman had taken the inquiry without offense or disregard. Her respect for Sandra deepened. “It’s…hard to explain. I just notice things from spending so much time around a big range of the spectrum. I can tell he thinks differently than most people, and not just because he’s so logic-oriented. He doesn’t seem to pick up on certain non-verbal communication signals. And I know he doesn’t realize when he’s dominating a conversation. I see how people who aren’t used to him can…misunderstand his intentions,” she said, as delicately as she could without being vague.

Sandra nodded after a moment of consideration. “Even when he was small, Mark always got along better with adults than he did with his peers. Other children could be so impatient with him. But, he’s never seemed to have trouble making eye contact. I’d thought that was one of the indicators.” She brought up the last point with an air of uncertainty.

“Like you said, he’s brilliant. And he loves acting. I think that might be an expectation he adapted to, not something that comes naturally to him.” Angie said, groping for the gentlest way of differentiating between book smarts and people smarts. “He knows to look at the people he’s speaking to, but I don’t think he knows how to read them while he’s looking at them.” She paused before giving in to the desire to backpedal. “But, I could be way off base. I’m sorry. I sure didn’t want to give you something more to worry about.”

Sandra gave the table top a light pat with her palm to go with her smile of reassurance. “Don’t be sorry. It’s good to have perspective from someone more…removed from the thick of things. Fresh eyes.” She finished off her cup and poured herself seconds. “I think we’ll probably wait and see how his first semester at college goes before we look into how much support he may need. I don’t want to make him anxious if it turns out he can cope just fine on his own.”

“I’ll be praying he does,” Angie said. She was sincere, but immediately wanted to kick herself for sounding trite.

Fortunately, Sandra seemed to take it precisely as it was intended, and even appeared touched. “Thank you, that means more to me than you can know.” She inhaled deeply, as if to clear her head. “Now then, tell me about you. Did you get things straightened out with that boy in Ottawa?”

Angie stifled an exasperated sigh. “Not quite. I’ll know more in a day or two, though.”

Sandra gave her an empathetic smile. “You know, you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you need to. It’s so nice having another woman in the house.”

“Thank you. I’m glad I haven’t been a pain.” Angie chuckled. “I may stay a little longer, depending on the weather. I know my stop in Toronto is flexible at least.”

“We’ll all be going into Windsor tomorrow night for dinner, so you can at least have a quick glimpse of Canada and be a little more familiar with the border-crossing. There’s a Scottish festival going on over there we might even catch,” Sandra said with pleasant anticipation. “But if you’re going to enjoy a proper tour tomorrow, you may want to turn in early.”

Angie nodded, wondering if she must look as weary as she was beginning to feel. She looked off to the kitchen as she stood, setting her empty cup on the tray. “I hope Mark is okay,” she said, feeling a slight edge of guilt over not checking on him.

“He must have gotten caught up in one of his shows. I should see if I can convince him to get some sleep, too.” Sandra gave one last warm smile before taking the tea tray off into the kitchen, leaving Angie to her evening routine.

June 14
,

Lions and Tigers and Penguins…Oh My!

It was a perfect, sunny day. Mark and I went to the Detroit zoo, which made for a good distraction from my personal little pity party. Being around Mark more is helping me to understand him better. He has a few peculiar tendencies that take some getting used to. Sometimes he reminds me a little of Elsie; extensive capacity for intelligence... attention span of a squirrel. I need to be more patient with him. His mother has been so kind to me, and I want to be good company for her. 

Good news today to weaken my panic. My phone cards have been in my wallet all along. I’d just forgotten about the slot under the picture holder. This realization of course came to me while I was taking a shower. (I wonder if I’d have even more profound revelations if I spent more of my life in the shower.) Also, it seems that Zak hasn’t abandoned me after all. But, I’ll probably be extending my stay here in hopes that I won’t outstay my welcome in Ottawa. 

I can admit, I still wonder if I’m being incredibly stupid. It’s not like I’m having second thoughts from being homesick or anything like that. But I’m way outside of my comfort zone. And once I cross into Canada, I’ll be too far outside my 12-hour range for being able to drive straight back home. So maybe that will actually help me… to be so far along that I might as well keep going.

Status: Dead tired; mild sore throat.

~Ang

Chapter 6

In spite of the looming uncertainty overshadowing the Ottawa leg of her trip, the next several days flew by for Angie. Mark’s parents were passionate about their favorite sights in the area, and their enthusiasm was infectious enough for her to find enjoyment in the historical aspects of Detroit.

Returning from a particularly full day, Angie took the time to check her email. She’d already resolved to call Zak again if he hadn’t updated her by that evening. She was relieved to find a message from him in her inbox, though she was hesitant to read it. There was also a message from Don waiting for her, which lifted her hopes more than she would have liked. She decided to save it for last, in case Zak had bad news for her.

With a deep breath she opened Zak’s email.

Hey, I don’t think it’s going to work out. It’s not a problem with me, It’s just... my mom is extremely paranoid about things she doesn’t understand. It’s also the timing. I just finished my writer’s craft exam (I think it went pretty well), and have a history exam on Thursday... My sister is due to have a baby any day now. My other sister is graduating from the University. I’m graduating high school... etc, etc. I also kinda did spring it on her at the last minute, but she’s so uptight about anything related to the internet, I doubt it would have mattered if I told her about it three years ago. She did say that if you were to come up another time you might be able to stay here, but she’s really hesitant about letting someone neither of us have ever met face-to-face stay over.

“What if she’s some kind of freak murderer and kills us in our sleep?”

lol

“She’s doing what?! Is she crazy!?” etc, etc…

Basically, we’ll just have to find you a nice, relatively cheap place to stay. I’ll start looking. The day you’d be coming up is my last day of classes, so try to hold off getting here until after 4pm, and I’ll at least be free to show you around after that.

-Zak

Angie closed her eyes and held her breath until her lungs burned. She wanted to hurl something across the room to vent her frustration, however destructive and pointless that would be. Maybe she -was- crazy. And maybe she deserved to run into trouble for trusting Zak at his word when he’d told her that his family was fine with her visit.

What was I supposed to do, demand to speak to his mommy?
 

She sighed, glancing around the office to be sure she was alone before muttering a complaint to God. “I know we don’t have the exact same plans lined up, but could just a little more go -right-? Are you trying to tell me I should go back home...?” 

The recollection of her initial resolve seeped steadily into the forefront of her mind.

Okay, so this doesn’t have to stop me. I knew I’d have to sleep in the car some, and it’s not going to kill my bank account to stay at a cheap motel for a night or two.

She sighed, her emotional turmoil beginning to settle. Hoping for a boost to her spirits, she opened Don’s email.

I don’t have a lot of time. They put me on 12-hour night shifts now. I just wanted to get back to you before I grab a nap. It sounds like your trip is falling apart. I’m sorry for that, but it’s probably for the best. You know I didn’t like the idea of you taking this on alone in the first place. There’s no shame in trying something out and realizing it’s not working for you. I’d prefer you play it safe, but it’s your call.