Knitting Under the Influence

a sip and put his glass back down.

“I’d be thrilled if someone found a biomedical solution,” Sari said. “But no one's come knocking on our door with one yet. Behavioral interventions are all we've got that work-”

“One kid at a time,” James said. “And each kid requires- what?-hundreds of hours of one-on-one intervention, right? Come on, Sari, it's a waste. All those man-hours, all that money… Put them to use, I say. Stop playing around with one or two kids and set your sights higher.”

“You want to come to the clinic and tell our parents that?” Sari said. Her cheeks had turned red. “You want to come tell them we're closing down and not helping their kids anymore because maybe someone someday will find a better solution? ‘Sorry, folks, your kids aren't going to learn to talk but, hey, if we find a magic pill, we'll be sure to call you’? Like that?”

“Whoa, there,” James said, removing his arm from Lucy's shoulder so he could put up both hands in surrender. “Calm down, buddy. I’m on your side. It's just that I come from a hard science background-I deal in research and real solutions.”

“Our approach is completely research-based,” Sari said. “This is science, too. Behavior mod can change people's brains at the chemical level.”

“Not as fast as chemicals can,” James said. “But let's not argue. It's great that you want to help kids. Really.” He slid out of the booth and stood up. “Excuse me, guys-got to make a quick trip to the men's room. I’ll be right back.” He left.

The girls sipped their drinks and didn't meet each other's eyes. “I’m sorry,” Lucy said after a moment. “I didn't know he'd-”

Sari waved her hand. “Don't worry about it. A lot of people feel that way.”

There was a flurry and a blur and suddenly Kathleen was sitting next to Sari. “Sorry I’m late! Where's James?”

“Men's room,” Lucy said.

“I miss anything?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “James was a jerk and now Sari hates him.”

Sari rolled her eyes. “I don't hate him.”

“Why does she hate him?” Kathleen asked. She was wearing a red handkerchief top and tight jeans and looked pretty spectacular, the way Kathleen always did when she got out of her sweats and made an effort to dress up.

“I don't hate him,” Sari said again. “We had a polite disagreement about something.”

“Whatever,” Kathleen said. She put her fingertips to her neck. “My throats killing me. It's been hurting all day.”

“You should take some vitamin C,” Sari said.

“You know, there's no actual scientific evidence that that works,” Lucy said.

“Don't say that. Haven't you heard of the placebo effect? Which you've just ruined for me?”

“I’ll try anything right now,” Kathleen said. “I so don't want to get sick. There's lots of vitamin C in orange juice, right?” She signaled to a waiter and ordered a screwdriver when he came over.

James came back to the table a minute later. For the rest of the meal, they stayed away from the subject of autism clinics, and James went out of his way to be charming and friendly. But no matter how pleasantly Sari smiled, Lucy knew she had to be pissed off that James had called the career she loved a waste of time.

James and Lucy left soon after ten-he was worn out from all the traveling and lecturing he'd been doing-but Kathleen and Sari lingered over slices of flourless chocolate cake.

“Lucy's lucky,” Kathleen said. “She's going home to have sex.

“Remind me what that is again,” Sari said. “Sort of like this chocolate cake, only better. You shouldn't go so long between guys, Sar.”

“It's not like I want to.”

“No, but you don't actively go after them, either. Let's go to a bar and I’ll show you how to pick someone up. Just for practice.”

“I don't do that,” Sari said.

“But you should.”

“I don't know how to go after guys, anyway,” Sari said. “They didn't teach that where I went to school.”

Kathleen squished a crumb of chocolate cake with her index finger then licked it off. “You just find a cute guy and listen to him talk like he's interesting-whether he is or not-and smile a lot and touch his arm and make it clear that you're available. The rest just kind of follows.”

“It just kind of follows for you? Sari said. She had moved to the other side of the booth when Lucy and James had left so they could face each other, and now she gestured across the table toward Kathleen's face. “You're gorgeous. Guys fall all over you. It's not like that for me.”

“It could be,” Kathleen said. “You're the cutest girl around, Sari. You just have to stop acting all sweet and shy like the girl next door and put a little slut into your moves.”

“That works for you, huh?”

“Almost always.” She took a sip of water and grimaced. “Hurts to swallow. Hey, Sari, remember how you said the best job for me would be to marry someone rich? I’ve been thinking you may be right about that.”

“I was joking,” Sari said. “Marrying a guy just because he's rich is a bad idea.”

“I know that,” Kathleen said. “But what if he's rich and nice and you actually like him?”

“That's a lot of ifs.”

“I’m suddenly really tired,” Kathleen said and pushed the cake away. “Fuck, Sari, I don't want to get sick.”

V

You look like shit,” Sam said when he opened the kitchen door for Kathleen the following night.

Kathleen had come up the back way to the service entrance, which was how she almost always came up to Sam's place, once she'd discovered that the back stairs took her directly from her kitchen to his. At first, she came when she needed something, like a pair of scissors or a cup of coffee. But sometimes she came just because the silence of her bare apartment made her desperate for company and she knew that Sam was likely to be there when he wasn't at work.

“I’m sick,” she said. “My head hurts and I can't stop shaking.” “And you had to come here?” He was backing away already. He was terrified of germs. Once Kathleen had wiped her mouth on his napkin, and he had freaked out when she pushed it back over to him. He had threatened to start locking her out if she ever did anything like that again.

“I need some medicine,” she said. “You've got to have something in that drugstore you call a bathroom.”

“Just go back downstairs to bed and sleep it off. Best thing for you.”

“Can't,” Kathleen said. She pressed the palms of her hands against her cheeks, which felt hot. “There's a big company party tonight. My first. I have to go and impress people.”

“Oh, for God's sake, you're an assistant. No one cares if you go or not.” He retreated farther. “They certainly won't thank you for going if there's a chance you're contagious. You start sneezing, and you'll just make them all hate you.”

“No one will know I’m sick,” Kathleen said. “I haven't really been sneezing. I just need something to make my throat and head stop hurting. Tylenol, Advil, anything like that. Or that aspirin stuff that has caffeine. I could use some. I feel so tired.”

“If I give you something, will you leave?”

“I swear.”

He led her to his bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Kathleen reached over his shoulder, grabbed a prescription bottle and peered at it, pretending to read, in mock surprise, “Viagra? I’m shocked, Sam. And a little intrigued.”