Knitting Under the Influence

than crying at getting him what he wanted, especially if all the other adults in his life waited him out the same way.

Already, within the first week, he was showing signs of progress. He was making some of the beginning sounds of words. He was trying. Pretty soon, Sari knew, he'd really get the idea, and then words would start coming like crazy.

But not if-as happened that first Friday in Zack's house- Maria was going to come racing into the room the second she heard him scream, and-one hand outstretched, the other clutched to her heart-cry out, “Oh, my love, my life! What's wrong? What has she done to you?”

“Nothing's wrong, nothing's happened,” Sari said.

“Is he hurt?” Her hands on his shoulders, she was scanning his face-apparently looking for bruises.

“He's fine,” Sari said. “He just needs to stop crying and try talking if he wants this cookie.”

“He's a good boy,” Maria said. “No trouble with me.” Zack buried his face in her shoulder.

Sari said, “I know it's hard to hear him cry like that, but it's really just out of frustration and soon he'll-”

“He never cries with me.”

“Well, then, you're going to have to start letting him,” Sari said. Maria didn't even bother responding to that. She wrapped her arms around Zack and rocked him, crooning softly, until Sari gave up and left the house.

Sari hated to get anyone in trouble, but something had to change, and she told Jason that when he came to the clinic on Monday.

“As long as she comes running whenever he cries, he'll keep crying,” she said. “And it's not just a problem when I’m there. It's a problem all the time, if she's soothing and cuddling him when he's behaving badly. All she's doing is rewarding the bad behavior-which means it will continue no matter what I do.”

“Should I fire her?” Jason Smith said. “Because I will, if you tell me to. Actually,” he said, “I’d do anything you told me to.”

Sari said, “Don't fire her. Of course, don't fire her. We want Zack to feel loved and secure right now. But talk to her for me. Tell her she's got to change how she deals with him.”

“I’ll try,” he said. “Maria and I aren't exactly in the habit of talking a lot.” His mouth twisted. “The truth is, I’m scared to death of her. We kind of keep our distance, take our shifts with Zack… Denise was the one who hired Maria in the first place. She likes her because she's so competent and take-charge about everything, but now that it's just me at home, I’m the one left dealing with her, and all that competence terrifies me. I don't think I live up to her expectations.” He tried to laugh, but it ended in a sigh. “This single dad stuff is all new and strange to me.”

So he was divorced. Or at least separated. Not that Sari cared. She said, “If you could just make sure she's busy doing something else when I come on Fridays, that would help a lot. And please tell Maria not to give him what he wants whenever he cries, but to wait until he's asking appropriately. We all have to be a little bit tough with him right now.”

“Cruel to be kind?” Jason said.

“Exacdy.”

Later, when they were shaking hands goodbye, Jason Smith said, “I’ve been wanting to say-what you've been doing with Zack is amazing. You're amazing.”

“It's all pretty simple, really,” Sari said.

“I know. That's the beauty of it. I watch you and you make it look so easy. But he's actually starting to say words. I didn't think I’d ever-” He stopped. They both looked at Zack, who had turned a toy truck upside down and was using his index finger to make one of its wheels spin. After a moment, Jason said, “I feel like I’m seeing him for the first time. You know what I mean? Like the real Zack is starting to come out.”

“All of him's the real Zack,” Sari said. “We're just encouraging him to talk and be social. But he's all Zack all the time.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jason said. He was wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt that hung straight down from his broad shoulders. He looked like a jock. He'd look like a jock in footsie pajamas.

He was still talking. Sari made herself focus. “I’ve always loved him, but now it feels like he's turning into a friend. It's incredible. He actually asked me for juice today. I couldn't believe it. He came right up to me and said, ‘Joo, joo.’”

“Maybe he just thought you looked a little Semitic,” Sari said.

He laughed and then said, “It's weird that you're funny. I remember you as being really serious. I mean, in all honesty, I don't remember you all that well, but I have this mental picture of you always being in the library.”

“I’m amazed you remember me at all,” Sari said. “I didn't hang around with your crowd much.”

“My crowd?” he repeated. “I didn't have a crowd.”

“Sure you did.”

“I had a few friends. Not that many.”

“You had an entourage” Sari said. “Which was appropriate, what with you being the king and all.”

“Was I voted king?” he said. “Funny that I don't remember that.”

“People don't vote you king,” Sari said. “You're born to it.” He shook his head. “Not me. I was just trying to survive, like everyone else.”

It blew her mind that he could say that, that he could act like his high school experience was anything like hers, like he hadn't ruled the place and dealt out favors and cruelties with equal generosity.

IV

Dinner Friday night didn't go as well as the girls had hoped.

It started off fine. Kathleen was late, of course, but the girls knew that Kathleen never paid much attention to time, so they went ahead and ordered drinks without her. For a while, they drank and chatted about restaurants and movies, and James seemed fairly relaxed for once, his arm draped around Lucy's shoulders, his long legs stretched out under the booth they shared.

Then James asked Sari what she did for a living and she told him.

He was already shaking his head before she had finished speaking. “I know you don't want to hear this,” he said, “but it just kills me when I hear about these autism clinics popping up everywhere. Like they're going to make a difference.”

“Excuse me?” Sari said, blinking.

“How many kids do you see in a day?”

“Me, personally, or at the clinic?”

“At the clinic.”

“Roughly thirty, I guess. Some evaluations, but mostly ongoing therapy.”

“Which means most of the kids are repeat visitors, right? So it's not like you're seeing thirty different kids every day.”

“Yeah, right,” she said. “So?”

He was shaking his head again. “It's a waste, that's all. A drop in the ocean. It's like a doctor putting calamine lotion on one kid with chicken pox instead of vaccinating all the kids in his practice.”

Sari shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “We help every kid who comes through our clinic.”

“So you patch up a few kids,” he said with a shrug. “At a huge expense, right? Meanwhile, that money-and intelligent clinicians like you-could be put to far better use pursuing scientific solutions to the problem.” He picked up his beer glass with his free hand, the one that wasn't around Lucy's shoulders. “Autism isn't going to go away because some kids learn to say a word or two. We've got to find a real biomedical solution to the problem. The only way to do that is to take all the money we've got and put it directly into reputable scientific research.” He took