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“Like about dinosaur erotica?”
She fights a smile. “Exactly.”
When we stop at a red light, she begins to nip at the side of her finger, and I’m sure she doesn’t even realize she does it. I can only blame jet lag for making me reach for her wrist, tugging her index finger out from under her teeth.
With a brush of my thumb over her finger, I release my hold on her wrist, and she immediately begins to nibble on her finger again. But after a moment, she stops and turns to me. “Is it bothering you?”
“You biting your finger? Doesn’t bother me at all, but you’re not hurting yourself, are you?”
She shakes her head and fists her hands, rubbing her thumb over her knuckle. “No. It feels good. Feels like… You know when you’re hungry or something hurts, you do something else to take your mind off it? That’s what it feels like to me. It soothes me.”
“Can I help?”
“Help with what?”
“Soothing you.” Again with the jet lag, I take her right hand in mine and gently extend her arm to place her fingers on my thigh, and I rub at her knuckle. I watch her face as she watches what I’m doing—the right-to-left, back-and-forth motion, pressing slightly. “Is this good?”
“A little harder, please. Yes, like that.”
Then the light turns green, and with her left hand on the wheel and her right on my lap while I rub across her knuckles, Millie drives me home.
This past week, I spent some time researching autism in women and learned they do a lot to mask their autistic behavior so they can fit in better with society. Specifically, I watched a TED Talk by an Autistic woman. She explained how it looks different in women than men, which is why they are usually diagnosed later in life, and how girls and women excel at covering up their autistic behavior. Which can also be really exhausting. She spoke about how much awareness and thought go into even having a simple conversation. I’ve never once considered my tone of voice, eye contact, or body position when talking to someone, but Autistic people think about it all the time. Millie probably thinks about it all the time.
The speaker explained how Autistic women, especially those diagnosed later in life, go into burnout and have breakdowns often because all the camouflaging takes an expensive toll. It’s all made me curious to learn more about Millie. “What do you do to relax?”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t a trick question. I mean, when you need a break from everything, what do you do?”
“Oh, like when I get overwhelmed? Hide under my heavy blanket and play Animal Crossing. My house is relatively quiet with only my mom and Noah, and I don’t interact with a lot of people on a regular basis, so I haven’t truly had a meltdown in a long time. It’s why I loved working at the veterinarian’s office. Nobody cared if I went on a tangent about ear mites in rabbits or litter-box avoidance in cats, and I could pet as many animals as I wanted.”
“Do you still want to be a vet?”
“I would love to, but I don’t have the time or money to go to school. Between Noah and my mom, I can’t.”
She and Noah have both talked about her mother, and I don’t know if it’s my place to ask, although that’s never stopped me before. “What’s up with your mom?”
“She has lung cancer. Was diagnosed a few years ago, and recently… It’s been hard. Even going up the stairs at home might tire her out She tries to do as much as she can, especially with Noah, she wants to spend as much time with him as possible, but…”
That but makes me believe there might not be a whole lot of time left, and I move to rubbing along the tendons on the back of Millie’s hand.
“Can I help with anything? Do anything?” I don’t know what I could possibly offer them, but whatever it is, I’ll do it.
Of course, Millie shakes her head. “That’s very kind, but you’re already doing more than enough by hiring me. You’ve been too generous as it is.”
I huff. No one has ever called me generous.
An asshole? Yes.
Hot-tempered bastard? Absolutely.
Kind? Never.
Except I don’t feel especially generous or kind. I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart—I’m not sure I even have one anymore. I’m only helping her out because seeing Millie upset pisses me off.
And contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually enjoy being pissed off.
There is so little in my life I care about anymore, but since that day on the field when I first spotted Millie, I’ve cared. I’ve found myself clawing back the humanity I was so intent on ridding myself of.
