"It's okay," I say. "I can manage a few steps to the sink."
She follows me across the room. Out of habit, I start rinsing the plates. She keeps her voice down when she speaks. "You must have a lot of thoughts about me," she starts. "Some are probably warranted. I didn't know how serious this was. His disease and relationship with you. I'm sorry."
I look over at her, then over my shoulder at Tyler. It looks like he and his dad are talking about something. I want to ask what research she did that day after he was released from the hospital,when Tyler called me to confirm he’d be okay, but I stop myself. "I'm not the one you need to apologize to."
"I know." She sighs. "I want what's best for him. I can see that the friends he has, the boyfriend he has, is doing wonders for him. He's happy and looks so healthy. I know a great deal of that is because of you. So, thank you."
"It's all my pleasure," I say. "I love him, Miranda. I'll do whatever it takes to make him happy and also protect him."
She touches my arm but doesn't say anything else about it. "Leave the rest of those. I have dessert as well. Go sit and I'll bring it out."
Tylerissittingonthe floor, coloring at the coffee table. He's been at it for almost an hour now. I'm a bit confused, honestly, because he's been nothing but good for me tonight. It makes me suspicious, but another part of me is wondering if he changed his mind. Hanging out with his parents wasn't bad, they both seemed interested in mending things between them. I think it might take more than an apology, but Tyler was smiling when we left.
I sit on the couch next to him and run my fingers through his hair. I look at his picture. He's using markers tonight, which isn't a big deal. He doesn't regress as young as Orion so I don't have to worry about him coloring on anything but the pages. I do, however, have to worry about him forgetting to put the lids back on said markers. "Baby, what's the rule with using markers?"
"No coloring on furniture or walls," he says without looking up from his paper. That's technically true.
"And the other rule?"
He shrugs. There is no answer. I move my hand to cup under his chin and tilt his head back to look up at me. "What is the other rule with using markers?"
I feel his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. "Put the caps back on," he says diligently.
"And are the caps on all the markers?" I see him look from his drawing to the markers scattered across the table. I count at least three that don't have caps.
"No."
"Can youputthe caps back on?"
"I'm not finished yet," he says. He doesn't miss a beat. "I'll do it when I clean up."
"Ty." His hand stops but he doesn't look at me. "Do it now."
Again, he doesn't move. I'm in a mix of wanting to get aggravated that he isn't listening but I also know this is what I've been waiting for all evening.
"I'll give you the count of five to fix them or I'm going to throw them away." I start counting, slowly. By three, he still hasn't moved. I stand up and reach for the first one.
"You said to five!" Tyler says, raising his voice. I reach for the second marker. His hand snatches it away and he clutches it tightly in his fist.
"I shouldn't have had to say one," I respond. I fix him with a stare. I reach for the last marker. Our fingers wrap around it at the same time and he tugs. Unfortunately, he's holding the felt tip end and I know he's getting marker all over his hand. "Ty, let go."
"No. I'm cleaning it up like you asked." He tugs again. It slips out of my grasp and he drops it. It skids across the table and lands on the floor. He scrambles to pick it up, dropping his knees heavily on the floor.
"Tyler, quiet steps." That was an automatic reminder. I've had to remind him we're in an apartment more than once when he's in his Little space. We have neighbors on either side of us, above, and below. He stands up and looks at me for a moment before stomping the few steps to stand in front of me. It's already after nine. I don't want to get a noise complaint. "Tyler, I'm not kidding. You know you need to be considerate of the others in the apartments around us."
He holds out his hand for the marker I have in mine still. He doesn't say anything.
"You're not getting this back," I say. "You lost the chance to get this tonight when you didn't pick it up the first time."
"That's not fair," he says. "You went against your word and didn't count to five."
"Would you have picked them up if I had waited until five?" He doesn't answer. "Exactly. So now coloring time is over. We can start getting ready for a shower and then bedtime."
"I don't want to go to bed." He folds his hands over his chest. Markers still in hand and I can see he got a blue streak on his onesie.
"Give me the markers," I say, sternly. I hold my hand out. Tyler doesn't move. "Tyler, now. You just got blue on your pajamas and I don't know if these markers will come out of clothing."
I see surprise in his eyes when he notices the blue line. He definitely didn't mean to do that. I have to remind myself that it wouldn't have happened in the first place if he listened to me. Instead of handing the markers to me, he tosses them onto the table, still uncapped, and storms off down the hall.
