The Perfect Wife - JP Delaney Page 0,92

right decision.”

* * *

—

“I need you to look for emails from a man called Charles Carter,” you tell Nathan. “Or anything on the iPad suggesting he helped Abbie set up a corporation.”

You’ve dropped by the phone shop on your way home. Nathan looked surprised to see you. But not so surprised that he didn’t immediately go and lock the street door.

“Come in the back,” he says.

Once there, you endure the now-familiar routine of him plugging a cable into your hip.

“Here,” he adds, handing you a printout. It’s thinner than the last one—only two sheets. “This is what I’ve unscrambled since yesterday. It’s part of her search history.”

Quickly you scan the page.

µ Treatments for autism

µ Do B14 injections help autism?

˜ autism special diet XÿŒ chelation therapy

Anxiety autism

Heller syndrome organic diet

€˜

Can stem cell infusions cure autism

Positive Autism

#Positive Autism Dr. Eliot P. Laurence

Dr. Eliot P. Laurence Contact

“She was looking for a cure,” you say. “That’s hardly surprising.”

“Uh-huh,” Nathan says, his eyes on his screen.

“What’s this? Positive Autism?”

“Beats me,” he murmurs.

“Look it up.” When he doesn’t react, you say impatiently, “Look it up on the internet now, or I’m disconnecting.”

“No—wait.” Nathan opens a browser and types Positive Autism wiki, then turns the screen so you can see.

Positive Autism is an approach to autism and other developmental disabilities developed by Dr. Eliot P. Laurence, PhD.[1] Parents and facilitators are taught to see autistic behaviors not as aberrant or “wrong,” but as necessary coping mechanisms for an overstimulating world.[2]

Using a combination of proven healing interventions, including qigong massage, art therapy, toxin-free diets, and sensory integration techniques, Dr. Laurence’s seminars, books, and the many charitable foundations that use his methods have helped thousands of people with this condition to increased quality of life.[3]

The external links include a website. “Click on that,” you tell Nathan.

The page that comes up shows a picture of a ranch. Kids—clearly with learning disabilities, but smiling—are riding horses, hiking, and having massages. At the top it says:

Our goal is not to make people “less autistic”; it is to make the world less troubling for people with autism.

You scan the page quickly. “Now click on CONTACT.”

Sighing, Nathan does as you ask. “And that’s it,” he adds sulkily as you memorize the details. “You’ve had your turn.”

While he peers at the code flowing across his screen, occasionally scribbling a note, you think about what you’ve just read. It seems clear now that Danny’s diagnosis opened up a hidden fault line in Tim and Abbie’s marriage. You can imagine her showing him the Wikipedia article you’ve just read, and what his response would have been. If this stuff really worked, don’t you think someone would have peer-reviewed it by now? Successful treatments for autism aren’t so common they get ignored. If there’s no clinical trial, it’s bullshit. Nice-sounding bullshit, admittedly—but it won’t make our son any better.

On the other hand, at least this Dr. Laurence isn’t giving his students electric shocks. Is reducing the appearance of stress really such a good thing, if the student is actually terrified? Just what do people mean when they talk about “treating” autism anyway?

These must be the exact same questions that went through Abbie’s mind five years ago, you realize.

“Beautiful,” Nathan murmurs. His fingers tap the keyboard, and there’s a shutter-closing sound. He’s taken a screenshot.

“That’s enough,” you tell him sharply. “Time’s up.”

63

Dr. Eliot Laurence…All the way home you try to recall whether that name means anything to you. But there’s nothing. Other memories come, though; still shrouded in fog, so you’re not sure if they’re real or simply more of those educated guesses Tim talked about.

You can definitely recall how those were the darkest times, after Danny’s diagnosis. When it became apparent how far you’d drifted apart.

For you, your focus for the previous years had been your baby, then your toddler, then your little boy. For Tim, it had been work. The prenup might specify one day a week spent with family, but there was always a call to take, an email to respond to, a function to attend.

You realized, too, that the reason you didn’t argue much wasn’t because your marriage was healthy. It was more because starting a fight with Tim was such a massive undertaking. His stubbornness, intelligence, and refusal to concede even the tiniest thing made every disagreement a high-stakes battle that had to be fought to the point of exhaustion. And since you always conceded in the end, what was the point of starting the battle in the first place? There had been a