Knitting Under the Influence

together as a team to make things right for Zack. That's priority number one for both of us.”

“Oh, of course,” Sari said. “And I want-” She was interrupted by a few bars of “Fur Elise.”

“Excuse me one moment,” Denise said, dropping Sari's arm so she could slip a tiny cell phone out of the slim Prada handbag she had left on the bar. She put it to her ear as she took another sip of wine. “Denise Cotton,” she said.

Sari drifted a few steps back.

From the depths of his chair, Jason said, “She went back to her maiden name. For a few glorious years she was actually Denise Smith.”

Sari didn't say anything to that.

“Oh, damn,” Denise said. She flipped her phone shut and slid it back into her purse. “You won't believe this. I drove all the way here just to get to spend a few minutes with you, Sari, and I told everyone who works for me that I couldn't be bothered for anything short of an emergency. So of course one came up. There's been a total breakdown on one of the sets-it's a complete mess and they need me there to straighten it out.” She took a sip of wine and set the glass back on the counter. “I can't believe how frustrating this is! To finally get to meet you and then not have time to talk about Zack.”

“It's nice to put a face to the name at least,” Sari said.

Denise shone a brilliant smile in her direction. “Exactly what I was thinking. And I know we'll get together again soon.” She slung her purse on her shoulder. “I hope you don't mind, but I feel like I have to hug you. You're just so wonderful.” She put her arms around Sari and kissed her lightly on each cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. And we're going to reschedule this ASAP.”

“Great,” Sari said, and Denise squeezed her hard again before releasing her.

“Goodbye, Jason,” she said and turned to go.

“Hold on.” He rose to his feet for the first time since her arrival. “You're going to at least say hi to Zack before you leave, aren't you?”

She glanced at her watch and then said, “Better not. I don't want to upset him by saying hi and then having to leave right away.”

“You haven't seen him in days.”

“And I miss him,” she said. “More than you can possibly imagine.”

“It's hard to imagine you miss him at all when you won't bother walking into the next room to see him.”

“You're not getting it,” she said. “It's hard for both of us if I see him and then have to immediately walk out on him again.”

“So don't walk out.”

“I wish it were that simple. Do you think it's easy for me to have to drop in on my own child? But I’ve got to support him-and all this-” She gestured at the house around them. “Believe me, I would love the luxury of being able to sit around the house all day with my kid-”

“You would hate it,” Jason said. “You never wanted that.”

“I’ve wanted it,” she said. “But I’m not the type to sit around whining for something that's not going to happen.”

“What type are you?” he said.

“The type who understands that we need a lot of money to help Zack.” She gestured in Sari's direction. “How long do you think we could hire people like Sari-wonderful, talented people like Sari-if I stopped working? How about Maria and all the freedom she gives you? You ready to give that up, Jason?”

“I’m not asking you to quit your fucking job,” Jason said. He stood there in the middle of the room, his body tense but still. “I just thought you might want to say hi to your son.”

“If I had more time, there's nothing in the world I’d rather do.” She turned to go.

“You never have more time,” he said from behind her back.

She twisted to look at him over her shoulder. “I do what I do because I know it's the best way for me to help Zack.”

“Come on,” he said. “When were you ever going to make any other choice?”

“I’ve never had the chance to find out,” she said. “I’ve always had to support this family since you never could.”

“Ah,” said Jason. “Back to that one.”

Denise turned to Sari. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We're still working things out.”

“It's okay,” Sari said. “I know how hard it can be-”

“I’m sure you do,” Denise said. “Please excuse me now, Sari. I’ll be looking forward to the next time we get together.” She left the room, and, a second later, the front door slammed.

There was a moment of silence, and then Jason forced a little painful laugh. “There she goes,” he said. “The former Mrs. Jason Smith.”

“It's tough on a marriage.” Sari was well aware how lame she sounded. “Having a kid with special needs.”

“Oh, we were doomed long before Zack came along,” Jason said. “I’ve been almost as much of a disappointment to Denise as I’ve been to my father. They've had some fine conversations about what a failure I am.” Sari didn't know what to say to this. After another moment, Jason said, “Of course, she's right about most of it. She does have to support us. And therapy doesn't come cheap.”

“She still should have said hi to Zack,” Sari said.

Jason's head snapped up. “Really?” he said eagerly.

“Of course.” She searched for the right way to put it. “I mean, even if it was frustrating for both of them to say hi and bye quickly-even so, she should have wanted to so badly she couldn't help herself. I think-” She stopped, realizing she was getting into territory that was none of her business.

“I watch you with him sometimes,” Jason said when she didn't go on. “When you're in the backyard, I’ll look out the window, see you with him, and it's hard to stop watching. You're always so in the moment with him. Laughing and playing, like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than with my kid. I was always waiting for Denise to look like that when she was with him. I never saw it. I thought maybe it was because of who Zack is, because he never responded to her the way she wanted him to, but I think it's because of who she is. I’m not convinced it would have been any different if he'd been normal.”

There was a pause. “So you've been spying on me,” Sari said.

He smiled. “Observing you for purely clinical reasons,” he said. “Nothing stalkerish about it. I swear.”

“So I should hold off on the restraining order?”

“At least let me do something to earn it.”

Another pause, and then Sari said, “I should go.”

“No,” he said. “Don't. You were planning on staying for dinner. Stay and have dinner with me.”

She knew she shouldn't. But he stood there, begging her, a handsome guy who had just been beaten up inside. And they both knew she had the evening free.

He was smart enough-or was it calculating enough? She couldn't decide-to tread carefully at dinner, to keep the conversation on things Sari could talk about freely, to sense that she had glimpsed enough of his personal unhappiness to feel sympathetic to him, but that any more would scare her off. So, over sushi and sake-they had decided they would get food faster if they went out than if they ordered in-he asked her about the work she did and about autism in general. His interest pleased her and between the warmth of his regard and the warmth of the sake, she felt herself expand and relax.

“I can see that what you're doing works,” he said after they'd been talking for a while. “I’m a total believer. But what I don't get is why? I mean, if it's really a question of neurological damage, then why do kids get better just from playing games and talking? It seems like they should need operations or a pill or something that would actually fix the damage. Not just, you know… M &M’s and encouragement.”

“Neural plasticity,” Sari said, speaking the syllables very carefully. She had had quite a few cups of sake. They were small and it wasn't that strong a drink, but she had lost track of the number and suspected they were starting to add up. She should stop, she thought, as she lifted the tiny cup to her lips.

“Neural plasticity,” Jason repeated. And then, “I have no idea what that means.”