day we scrutinized their faces for any signs as to how the sex had gone.
Nothing.
Tim had taken her to feed the ducks at Stow Lake, Abbie reported. He’d pulled out a loaf of bread and started tearing it into small pellets when she’d stopped him.
“You do know that’ll kill them, right?”
He’d blinked, astonished. “But everyone feeds bread to ducks.”
“Everyone except smart people.”
She explained that, to wild ducks, bread was like junk food—it made their organs engorged and fatty, causing them to die of malnutrition or heart disease. It also made them too weak and bloated to take part in normal migrations.
“Domestic ducks, though, can’t fly in the first place. So sometimes people release them into parks thinking that’ll be a good environment for them. But quite apart from the fact they’ve got no protection against predators, they’ll die of digestive complications if they’re fed on bread. And if there’s so much bread they don’t eat it, that’s even worse. Bread left in water spreads salmonella and botulism, not to mention enteritis and a parasite called swimmer’s itch.”
“Wow,” Tim said, considering. He put the bread away. “You know, sometimes you remind me a little bit of me,” he added.
So would it be the fifth date when things finally turned intimate? we wondered. It seemed not. The fifth date was a cooking class at a high-end restaurant. But there was no indication the next day of the two of them having consummated the relationship.
Eventually someone made a comment to Abbie, who was quite open about it.
“I guess we’re taking things kind of slow. Slow and steady.” She paused. “My last relationship was a bit wild. Too wild, actually. It’s nice to be with a guy who respects me.”
It was at least six weeks before someone summoned to Tim’s office to discuss a new proposal that, just yesterday, had been judged astounding but was now terrible, idiotic, the dumbest idea ever, noticed a hand-painted mouse pad on Tim’s otherwise fastidiously bare desk. It was a colorful piece of graffiti framing the words ENGINEERS DO IT BETTER! We recognized Abbie’s street-art style.
Of course, we didn’t tell her that it was ten years since anyone in our line of work last used a mouse pad.
But it was sweet to see Abbie and Tim reaching for each other’s hands as they passed each other by the coffee machine, lacing their fingers together briefly when they thought no one was looking.
31
You wake up feeling more positive. It’s a gorgeous day and everything looks better in the sunlight, even the TV vans parked beyond the gates. Of course your relationship can survive without sex. You had a marriage, with all that entails. The physical side was nice, but you were so much more than that.
You feel almost ashamed for doubting it, when Tim so clearly doesn’t. Somehow, together, you’ll make this work.
Tim’s cheerful, too. Mike called first thing to tell him that John Renton, Scott Robotics’ biggest investor, saw the TV interview and wants you to come along to the meeting Tim’s arranged with him.
“Mike said he sounded impressed,” Tim reports over breakfast. “That’s good.”
“Where’s the meeting?”
“We haven’t set that yet.”
“What about having it here? I could cook.” Tim frowns, but you forestall him. “I know, I know—I don’t have to. But I like cooking, remember? And we have all this great equipment.” An idea occurs to you. “I’ll make a bouillabaisse, like I used to before. I’ll call Sea Forager and get everything delivered.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” He gets up from the table. “I’ll go see how Danny’s doing with dressing.”
Danny has an idiosyncratic approach to breakfast. Even on a good day, the only thing he’ll usually eat is dry Cheerios without milk, and even then he’s as likely to comb his fingers through the bowl, transfixed, as eat them. Toast is a no-no, unless cut into precise one-inch squares. And on a bad day, you’re happy if you can get him to eat a few red M&M’s.
Today you’re trying something you read about on an ABA website: Instead of asking what he wants, you offer Danny a picture menu. The theory is that if you say “Apples or grapes?” the person with autism will generally repeat “grapes,” even though he doesn’t actually want them. By letting Danny point, you’re giving him time to process the information.
Sure enough, Danny points to fish fingers, then jelly. The fish fingers, you know, will also have to be cut up into one-inch squares before having the jelly smeared