it all the way into the house before I did the same.
I crept silently into our bedroom and closed the door as quietly as I could, but as I climbed into bed (after leaving my Admiral Byrd outfit in the bathroom), Abby stirred and put her hand on my shoulder.
I took her into my arms and held her tight. “I’m sorry,” I said.
Chapter Sixteen
There were just two more school days before the kids started “Winter Break,” which we used to call by its real name, “Christmas Vacation.” Separation of church and state being what it is in this country, it’s okay to have Christmas trees in municipal buildings, and to sing all about the birth of Jesus in public schools, but you’d better not call it “Christmas Vacation.” Maybe it’s me.
I knew there were two days left before Winter Break because Ethan had made a point of walking into the kitchen every morning for the past two weeks and, in a loud, clear voice, announcing exactly how many days were left until Winter Break. Today was no exception.
I was making lunches for Leah and Ethan—making Ethan’s lunch consists of taking the proper pre-packaged ingredients and putting them in a lunch bag—when he marched in without greeting and called out “ten more hours!”
“It’s two days,” I corrected.
“Ten hours in school,” he said, correcting my correction. Apparently, last night’s tussle had faded into the recesses of his memory, and he was back to a jaunty mood. He hadn’t noticed Dylan sitting at the kitchen table, drinking organic orange juice that Abby had bought special, to Howard’s specifications.
“Ten hours,” Dylan chirped, aping Ethan’s high-pitched voice. I shot a dark look in Dylan’s direction, and he gazed innocently at me, as if someone else had been mocking my son. Before she left for work, Abby had again asked me to hold my feelings in check with the visiting Steins, and therefore avoid any possible strains on her feelings. People who work outside the home are cowards. I didn’t react verbally to Dylan.
Howard and Andrea strode out through the basement door while I was putting the kids’ lunches into their backpacks. After all, it was after seven in the morning, they were on vacation, and they were sleeping in. They were fully dressed, and my guess was that the basement was neater now than it had been in months. I went upstairs to see if Leah, who actually had to be somewhere at eight, was out of bed yet.
She was in the bathroom brushing her teeth, so I went back downstairs and into the kitchen. Ethan had poured himself some cereal and was eating it, as usual without milk. Dylan, who clearly considered this scandalous, watched wide-eyed while his parents drank the coffee Abby had made for them. I avoid coffee, mostly because it tastes like raw sewage, so I’m bad at brewing the stuff. I’m told coffee drinkers can taste a difference.
Ethan wasn’t looking in Dylan’s direction, so he didn’t see the stares. This, naturally, frustrated Dylan, so he decided to bring his astonishment out into the open.
“You eat cereal without milk?” His voice rose about half an octave.
Ethan, wondering if eating dry cereal was something he shouldn’t do, looked into the bowl, then back at Dylan, and nodded. “Yeah. I like it that way.”
“How can you do that?”
I looked over at him. Suppressing the fury I badly wanted to express, I said evenly, “Dylan . . .
Howard looked up from the New York Times I was supposed to be reading. “He’s just exhibiting a healthy curiosity, Aaron,” he said. But Andrea, doing her best to be tolerant of the “afflicted” boy, shook her head sadly.
“He’s not being sensitive,” she told her husband.
Ethan was now confused about his breakfast, which is the last thing he needed. He stood and poured the remainder of his cereal into the garbage can under the sink. I clamped my jaws shut, and Ethan, knowing the next step in the morning ritual, headed for the kitchen counter, where his Ritalin is kept.
My son takes fifteen milligrams of Ritalin before school every morning, and another ten after lunch at school. It helps him focus on his schoolwork, smoothes his moods, and generally makes it easier for him to get through the day. Even within the Asperger community, there’s considerable debate about the benefit of Ritalin, but for my kid, it makes a beneficial difference. If you think Ritalin’s bad, I suggest you don’t give it to your kid.
I took the