“She pulled out her piece of sandpaper and rubbed it hard enough that her fingers began to bleed. When I tried to take it away from her she screamed at me and just kept rubbing,” my mom says.
“I gave her an additional sedative,” my dad interjects, “but you know how these things go. Sometimes too much has a reverse reaction.”
Many autistic people have heightened reactions to different substances and in some cases, including my sister’s, often have paradoxical reactions. For instance, caffeine makes Vivie tired and most sleeping medications actually stimulate her. It took a long time for my parents to find the perfect calming cocktail.
My heart sinks at hearing this. “Poor Vivie,” I say. I feel responsible for this happening. Had I not moved here, she wouldn’t have been on a plane to come see me. She would have remained comfortably at home in the bubble she knows.
My mom takes a sip of her drink before saying, “Your sister is such a fighter and she does so well most of the time. This is going to feel like a real setback to her.”
“I was going to take you all to supper tonight,” I tell them, “But maybe we should order in, instead.”
“That’s a good idea, Thomas,” my mom says. “I think Vivienne might need a couple of days to recuperate.”
Trying to play the good host, I ask, “While we wait for suppertime, can I get you guys something to snack on?”
My mom is the first to respond. “Do you have any cheese?”
If I didn’t already know what a tough day they’d just had, her response would be enough to alert me that all was not well.
“I have cheddar,” I tell her.
My mom snuggles into dad and replies, “Perfect.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
FINLEY
At a quarter ’til five, I grab Thomas’s calendar and then lock up shop before heading over to his house. I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he realizes what I’ve done. I feel strongly that you can’t lie to me and make me cry my eyes out and get away with it. If I’ve learned one thing on my autism journey it’s that I will not let people treat me like a subpar species.
Every step I take toward my destination seems to rile me more. By the time I’m a block away, I probably look like a soldier marching into battle.
There’s a giant black Cadillac in Thomas’s driveway, which alerts me he must have other company. I can’t imagine who though. As I pass the car, one of the back doors swings open, nearly knocking me over. I jump back to avoid getting hit.
A confused looking woman about my age steps out. She sways on her feet a little before sitting back down. “You must be Thomas’s sister,” I say to her.
She looks up at me and nods her head. “Is this Tommy’s house?”
“It is,” I tell her. My first impression of Vivienne is that she’s nowhere near as functional as Thomas said she was. In fact, she seems almost simple in her confusion.
I scoot inside next to her before shutting the door again. According to Thomas, Vivienne also enjoys the cocoon effect of small spaces. “I’m Finley,” I tell her. “I’m a friend of your brother’s.” I feel bad calling myself his friend given my current state of anger, but I don’t want to upset Vivienne by laying the truth on her.
She takes my hand in hers and simply holds it for a minute. “I’m Vivie,” she says before adding, “Thomas really likes you.” I’m not quite sure how to respond to that.
“How was your flight?” I ask.
She seems to be trying to remember when her eyes pop open like they’re going to make a run for it. “Not great.”
“Turbulence?” I guess. That’s my least favorite part of flying.
She nods her head and adds, “And there was a baby screaming behind us the whole flight.”
A wave of panic hits me. I’m not sure I could have managed the combination. “Are you okay?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “I’m not great. My dad drugged me.”
Ah, maybe that’s why she seems a little off.“Good thing he was there,” I tell her.
“Yeah.” She doesn’t say anything else for what seems like several minutes.
