Just Perfection

by Heather Guimond

  Snowflake wandered into the room and rested her chin on my thigh. I reached down and stroked the soft fur over her head. At least I had my dog. She’d help me through my broken heart and eventually, I’d be fine one day. I hoped.

  The month went by quickly even though I felt like a prisoner shuffling her way to the electric chair. A week before I was to move, I brought home a passel of boxes I picked up from the moving company. As I was struggling to assemble them, Justin walked by my room. I must have caught his attention because he stopped in the doorway.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed in front of him.

  “What does it look like?” I teased.

  “Looks to me like you’re getting ready to pack some stuff. Why?”

  “Um, because that’s what you do when you move.”

  He came in and sat in the chair at my desk. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped between his knees. He looked at me seriously.

  “Were you planning on telling me you were moving out?” he asked.

  I looked at him, confused. “We talked about this almost a month ago,” I said, as I moved to my dresser and started to pack my clothes. I’d leave enough for the week and bring the rest in a suitcase to the house.

  “No, we didn’t. I think I’d remember that conversation.”

  I turned and sat on the bed with a soft sigh.

  “It was the day you asked me if I was still using. I suggested it since things are progressing between you and Marina. You said you were relieved because you didn’t know how to ask me.”

  Justin stood, putting his hands on his hips. “I meant I didn’t know how to ask you if you were using again! If I had known this was in your head, I would have been clearer. I don’t want you to move out. You can’t move out. Sammy and I need you. I’m not trying to make things serious with Marina. It’s only been a few months! Wait… don’t tell me. This is really about James, isn’t it?”

  I sighed again, louder this time and moved back to lean against my headboard. I patted the empty space next to me, indicating Justin should sit. He walked slowly over to the bed and sat down facing me, one leg resting on the surface.

  “No, this is not about James. He and I will only ever be friends again, and he knows that. I haven’t even talked to him since the night I met him for dessert.” I paused and took one huge deep breath. Now was the time. “Moving out is best for you and me. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere over the last year, I realized I’m in love with you. Watching every touch between you and Marina, knowing every time you come home late, tears my heart into pieces. I don’t want to leave. This past year has been the most fulfilling of my life. You and Sammy have become my world, but I can’t stay, having only half of what I really want. It hurts too much.”

  Justin inhaled deeply, then blew out a long breath. He stood and raised his arms, lacing his fingers over his head and looked at me for a long moment, his face tense and hard.

  “I don’t know what to say, Peaches. I would have given anything to hear this years ago, hell, even a couple months ago, and you pick now. What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “You don’t need to say or do anything. I know I destroyed whatever chance we had before Sammy was born. I have to live with that.”

  He dropped his hands and ran one over his stubbly chin. “Speaking of Sammy, have you thought about what this will do to him? Mimi, he adores you. You’re the only mother he knows.”

  “Of course, I’ve thought about him. I’m heartbroken over the idea of not being the first face he sees every morning. I don’t want to hurt him, but better to do it now rather than when he is older and is more likely to remember it. Besides, I called your mother like I said I would, and she will come watch him while you are working or whenever you need a babysitter. She’s delighted to have more time with him. There will be no shortage of love and affection. Of course, I’ll still see him, too. I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m moving back to my house.”

  Justin shook his head slowly. “This is really fucked up, Mimi.” He looked around the room like he was searching for something, but couldn’t find it. “I need to go take a ride. Would you watch Sammy while I go out and try to process what you dumped on me?”

  I closed my eyes. Though I’d known it would be, I didn’t like hearing the revelation that my feelings were such a problem. “Of course, I will,” I said. “Take whatever time you need.”

  “When are you moving?” he demanded.

  “Next weekend. I’ll call you guys every day and still come to visit regularly. I’m not going to be gone, only a bit further away.”

  He shook his head angrily. “Fuck me,” he spat. “I gotta get out. I can’t look at you right now,” he said as he walked out my door.

  Justin hardly spoke to me in the days preceding my move. We only talked when it had something to do with Sammy. I wanted to reach out and tell him how sorry I was, but I didn’t know how. I wanted him to open up to me, talk to me about what he was thinking and feeling, but I’d already used up any courage I had telling him I was in love with him. If he still loved me like he used to, he would have come to me. I was sure he wouldn’t. I could only hope he’d forgive me and the awkwardness would someday give way to the easy friendship we’d always had.

  When moving day came, Justin took Sammy and left the house. He said he didn’t want Sammy there to watch me walk out of his life. Before they left, I picked Sammy up and plopped him on my hip. I wanted to hold onto him and never let go, but even if he’d let me hold him that tightly, I had to go.

  “You be good for your Daddy. Okay, baby?” I choked out through the lump in my throat. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll see you soon.”

  He put his pudgy little hands on the sides of my face as though he knew I was upset. I did my best not to cry, but a few tears slipped out, anyway.

  I took a chance and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He squirmed in my arms, so I handed him over to Justin. Justin looked at me and shook his head. Then they were gone, and my broken heart shattered into a million more pieces.

  I called every night as I promised. The first few nights, Justin gave Sammy on the phone even though he wasn’t quite old enough to talk. I could hear his little breaths come across the line. I did my best to sound upbeat and cheerful and to let him know I missed him to pieces. I didn’t know if he understood, but I wanted to think he did. Finally, on the fourth night, Justin came back on the line to speak to me after I talked to Sammy.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked.

  “Honestly? Not well,” Justin said. “He’s been having tantrums daily. It’s hard to soothe him. I knew he wouldn’t handle this easily, but he is taking your absence much harder than I thought he would.”

  I could tell he was angry with me. I couldn’t blame him. What parent wouldn’t be mad at the person who had hurt their child? It killed me to think about it, but I still told myself it was for the best. I wouldn’t have been able to stand it otherwise.

  “I’d like to come by this weekend to visit you both if that’s okay. Do you already have plans?” I asked.

  “My mom is going to pick him up on Sunday, so she and my Dad can spend the day with him. Other than that, we’ll be home.”

  “Okay. I’ll come by Saturday morning and bring breakfast. I can’t wait to see you both.”

  We ended the conversation quickly after that. I brushed aside the tears I’d been trying to hold back. Crying wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I made this move for myself. Though my intentions were good, was it also selfish? Maybe, but I couldn’t have stood the heartache day after day. It wasn’t good for my sanity or my recovery.

  We made a tradition of my Saturday morning visits in the following weeks. I got to witness a few of his temper tantrums, and they were scary. He’d scream and throw toys for close to an hour. Not knowing what to do, I’d try to distract him which never really worked. He’d scream until he was so tired, he fell as
leep. Justin would look at me, accusation in his eyes. I felt so guilty. I wished things could be different, but Justin’s silence made it perfectly clear it never would be.

  One Sunday afternoon, about two months after I moved out, I got a call from Justin which stopped my heart.

  “Mimi,” he said. “I’m at the hospital with Sammy. He had one of his tantrums, and while he was throwing himself around the living room, he hit his head on the coffee table. He has a huge lump on his forehead, so I rushed him here to have him checked out.”

  I didn’t need to hear any more.

  “I’ll be right there. You’re in emergency, I assume?” I asked urgently.

  “Yeah. Call me from the parking lot when you get here. I’ll come out to get you.”

  I got in my car and sped the whole way to the hospital by Justin’s house, praying all the way that my baby was okay. When I arrived, Justin was already in front of the emergency room doors waiting for me. He ushered me back into the examining room, but it was empty. I looked at him in question.

  “They’re doing a CT scan as a precautionary measure. I spoke to the doctor, and he thinks Sammy is fine. They want to make sure.”

  I nodded and sat down in the chair next to the bed. I took a deep breath and told myself he was fine, he had a bruise.

  Justin sat down in the chair next to me and took my hand.

  “I’m glad you came. I’ve been a wreck. It was his worst tantrum yet, and I couldn’t get to him fast enough,” he said as he ran his other hand over his face. “His tantrums are getting more violent. I don’t know what to do.”

  “He’s going to be fine,” I reassured as I squeezed his hand. Truth was I was as scared as he was, but I wanted to put up a good front. “Do you know what set him off?”

  “I do this time, but normally I have no warning. Today, Marina was over, and she tried to pick him up and give him a hug. Rather than squirming like he normally does, he started screaming and hitting her. She put him down on the floor and stood there. I was in the kitchen and couldn’t get out there fast enough.”

  “Where is she now? Why isn’t she here, too?”

  “She was freaked out and wanted to go home. I didn’t argue with her, I wanted to get Sammy here as quickly as possible.”

  I wanted to wring her neck. She knew Sammy didn’t like to be held or hugged. What the hell was she thinking? I asked as much.

  “She’s been trying to get him to accept her more. She has good intentions, but she doesn’t understand why you and I can pick him up and she can’t.”

  “Doesn’t she realize we don’t do it very often, and he doesn’t even let us do it for very long? Hasn’t she been paying attention?” I asked angrily.

  “I don’t know,” he replied.

  Just then, they wheeled Sammy back into the room on a gurney. He was sleeping. The doctor came in after the attendant put him on the bed.

  “We had to sedate him, Mr. Sever. Kids can’t be still long enough to get a good scan, otherwise, especially one as young as he is. Don’t worry though. He’ll be groggy when he wakes in a few hours, but he’ll be fine. He did throw one hell of a tantrum beforehand, however.”

  Justin smiled grimly. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said.

  The doctor pulled up the rolling stool and sat in front of us. “I assume you are Mrs. Sever,” he said, looking at me. I went to correct him, but Justin interjected before I could open my mouth.

  “Yes, this is Sammy’s mother,” he said.

  “I have a few questions for you both. Does he often throw violent tantrums like this?”

  We both nodded simultaneously.

  “Do you notice him acting differently than most kids his age?” the doctor asked.

  “In what way do you mean?” Justin asked back. “Neither one of us have much experience with kids, so we don’t really have anyone to compare him to.”

  I thought about it for a minute. “I used to attend a mother’s group with him. He didn’t seem interested in playing with the other kids. He’d bring his ‘pet’ mouse and play with it instead of playing with the other kids or the toys we’d bring.”

  “He has a pet mouse?” the doctor asked. “He seems a little young to have a pet.”

  “Not like you think, Doctor,” Justin replied. “It’s a computer mouse, a wireless one. He stole it from my office one day, and we can hardly get him to put it down. He’s really only interested in it or this blue ball we have.”

  “Does he smile much?”

  Justin and I looked at each other. “No, not really,” I said slowly.

  The doctor nodded. “I think once we finish making sure Sammy is okay from his injury, you need to follow up with his pediatrician. I think he might have ASD.”

  “What is ASD?” I asked.

  Justin reached for my hand. “It’s autism, Mimi.”

  My jaw dropped. “No, it can’t be,” I said. “He’s a normal little boy, just very vocal when he’s upset.”

  “I could be wrong,” the doctor said agreeably. “Pediatrics isn’t my specialty, by any means. I do, however, think there’s enough correlation between his behavior and the disorder to have it checked out.”

  I wanted to object further, but Justin stayed me with a squeeze of my hand. “I’ll make a follow up appointment with Doctor Singer tomorrow morning,” he said.

  The doctor excused himself. An interminable hour and a half later, he came back giving Sammy the all clear. “There’s no sign of a concussion and we confirmed his skull is not fractured. Keep him comfortable as much as you can and put ice on the lump for about twenty minutes at a time throughout the rest of the day. He’ll be just fine.”

  Justin scooped Sammy up into his arms. I followed them out of the emergency room, my stomach in a knot. Sammy was perfect. How could this doctor even suggest he was anything but? He was too young for anyone to be able to determine something like that, anyway, wasn’t he?

  When we reached the car, I told Justin impatiently, “I think we should have him examined at another ER. This doctor is obviously a quack.”

  After buckling Sammy into his seat, he turned and looked at me. “Why do you say that?”

  “C’mon! He thinks Sammy is autistic. Nothing could be further from the truth. He is a happy, healthy little boy. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him.”

  Justin sighed. “My mom has pointed out to me before that some of Sammy’s behavior is unusual. He doesn’t smile back when you smile at him. He doesn’t want to be held or hugged. He kind ‘zones out’ a lot of the time. I dismissed what she said, too. I thought he might be developing slower than other kids. But now? A medical professional has suggested it, so I think we need to take him to the pediatrician and get his professional opinion.”

  “I don’t accept it. I’m sure Dr. Singer will say he’s a perfect little boy like he is.”

  “Of course, he’s perfect. It isn’t a death sentence if he’s autistic, Peaches. We need to know if he is, so we can make sure we are taking care of him properly. He may have needs we don’t understand, needs other kids don’t have.”

  “Alright,” I said. “But I’m reserving judgment until we hear from Dr. Singer. May I come to the appointment with you?”

  “Of course. No matter who gave birth to Sammy or where you live, you’re still Sammy’s mother.”

  My heart nearly burst right out of my chest to hear him say that. All this time in my head, I’d been referring to Sammy as my boy or to myself as his mother. For Justin to say it out loud, with no equivocation, I didn’t know whether to jump for joy or collapse weeping on the spot. To me and to Justin, Sammy was mine. Nothing or no one was going to change that.

  Chapter Seven

  As luck would have it, the day after our visit to the emergency room, Justin called me with more stressful news. Armando Ortega had paid Justin another visit, demanding to see Sammy. It was right after Audrey had left for the day, and Justin was on his own with him. According to Justin, they exchanged a few ‘polite’
words at the door, wherein Justin told him to go fuck himself. Unfortunately, Sammy thought I had come over and squeezed between Justin’s leg and the door looking for Snowflake. He caught Sammy before he could get near Armando, but the big, purple knot on his forehead could not be missed. Justin said Armando had made another threat about calling Child Protective Services before stalking off.

  “Do you think he’ll call?” I asked, worry taking me over.

  “Even if he does, what’s going to happen, Mimi? Kids fall. They get bumps and bruises. Sammy is healthy, well-fed, has clean clothes, and a clean home. There’s nothing here which gives even the slightest impression he’s anything but a happy child in a loving home.”

  “You had a known drug addict taking care of him for the first year of his life,” I pointed out. “That might cause some people to question your judgment.” I hated admitting it, but it was a fact.

  “Recovering drug user. No one other than your family and our friends knows about your addiction, Mimi. They aren’t going to even know about it, and I wouldn’t tell them. Your medical records are protected.”

  I sat on the other end of the line, chewing on my thumbnail. Justin’s points were valid. I hadn’t been using very long and hadn’t made a public reputation for myself. Nevertheless, I wasn’t as convinced as he was it would remain private knowledge. All I could do for now was cross my fingers and meet whatever challenge that arose head-on.

  Justin went on to tell me he scheduled a doctor’s appointment for the following Friday to have Dr. Singer examine Sammy. Relieved we had an appointment to address that issue, I promised Justin I would be there. He told me there’d never been any question in his mind.

  I was on pins and needles the rest of the week, searching for autism signs and facts on Google almost every minute. Every website I found gave descriptions which could easily apply to Sammy. Things I’d never considered to be abnormal, like his attachment to the mouse, were signs he was different from other children. I’d argue with myself. He still hadn’t started talking, but it was early. We wouldn’t know if he was delayed in that regard. He had started walking a little early. He may not look me in the eye often, but sometimes he did. For every sign that he was a normal child, I found another sign which suggested he wasn’t.