by Anna Edwards
I liked her already. If we got through this one sitting in relative ease, we’d be back. “Mabel, I presume?”
“The very one. And who is this fine-looking young boy?”
Tapping Ollie on the hand, I pointed to Mabel to which he gave a small smile without looking in her direction. “Ollie. My son.”
“You bought the old Marson’s place,” she exclaimed. “I wondered when you’d venture into town.”
“That would be me.”
“You get all that mess fixed up in the house?”
“Just about. Beautiful place. Fell in love with it the minute my foot hitched over the door.”
“Jeannie Marson loved that old house. Shame she couldn’t keep on top of it.”
That’s what happened when you grew old and had no family to speak of. The estate agent had been quick to inform me the old woman had died in the house and it needed a lot of work. It didn’t matter, the minute Ollie and I had stepped over the threshold, it had felt like home. Under the dust and dilapidated décor, the house had something that called to me. I’d offered above asking price that same day, not willing to risk another buyer snapping it up.
“I’m lucky to have found it.”
“That you are, Lewis. Now, what can I get you both? If it’s not on the menu, I can see what I can do,” she said kindly.
“Ollie likes his nuggets,” I informed her. “Can you do those with potatoes and veg?”
“Boy needs his greens, not a problem. And for yourself?”
I needed coffee before all else, the all-day breakfast calling once I’d downed a cup. The coffee came within five minutes, Mabel anticipating twenty for the food. It was good enough for us, Ollie content for the time being.
Tipping Ollie’s orange juice into the only cup he would drink from, I made a mental note to work on getting him to use a more grown up cup instead of the sippy one. This was the next battle in a long line of many, I didn’t relish the fight. Maybe if I threw the damned thing away and said I lost it…
“Da?”
“Yes, Ollie?” He pointed to the huge ice cream sundae picture on the menu and I grinned, lifting one side of the defender away from his head. “We’ll see. Eat all your food first, okay?”
He gave a little grin and went back to stroking his finger over the picture. He was eating his greens.
Forty minutes later, Ollie was digging a long spoon down into the bottom of a huge sundae glass and I was on my second coffee. The food had been perfect. While my son got lost in his ice cream, I got lost in thoughts of the library and Jack. So far, my encounters with the townsfolk had been pleasant and polite. Ollie had given no cause to gossip, not that I gave a shit if he did. Folks could say what they wanted, I was looking to make Alcott home, they’d need to get used to seeing me and my son around, no matter what mood struck him.
Ollie was my entire life. There was once a time when Ollie and Stephanie had been my everything, but those days were behind us. Steph was no longer here.
The piercing pain that often poked in my chest when I thought about my wife had tempered to an ache. It had taken four long years to get to this point. I still loved her with the same fierceness I’d had the first day I’d seen her, but dead people didn’t love you back. Alcott was our new start, not a way to forget Steph - because she was unforgettable - just a way to start over without the memory of her crushing us with every step we turned.
Alcott felt right. Steph would have approved even if her parents didn’t. She’d understand why I needed to uproot Ollie and move many miles away from the only support system he’d ever had. Sanity, it was all about our sanity. I wanted to breathe clean air again. Live again.
Since my wife’s death, I’d never touched another soul, had never had a desire to. The lack of human comfort and companionship was bearing down on me. As much as I loved my son, awkward hugs and little communication from him made my life lonely. Before coming to Alcott, I’d decided it was time to stop living under the shroud of Steph’s death, and I couldn’t do that with her parents constantly around.
I craved kisses, and touches, and kindness from another. I wanted to be in love and find happiness again.
In high school, I’d been attracted to half the cheerleading team, and in equal measure, half the rugby team too. But the minute I’d glimpsed Stephanie, the curiosity over my sexuality ground to a halt. She was all I could see. That familiar dumb struck feeling had presented itself when I’d stared at Jack that first time, and those stirrings of attraction I hadn’t felt for a very long while came flooding back.
He was so easy on the eye, I couldn’t help the glances I’d sneaked his way when I was sure he wasn’t looking. I hated any stereotyping, but he was unquestionably gay. My attraction to him was an immense relief. He wasn’t Stephanie, and I wasn’t looking for a substitute.
I wasn’t looking for anything. But I found I liked the way he’d eyed me up and down as if he wanted to eat me right there on the library counter. Jack’s interest gave me the much-needed boost of confidence to an otherwise battered and weary soul.
“Da?”
“Yes, Ollie?” His face was smothered in chocolate ice cream, and I cringed at having to clean him up, he always fussed so loudly.
“Oh dear, look at you!” I hadn’t noticed Mabel standing at the table with a pack of wipes in her hand. “Kids get so messy.”
She crouched down and held her hand out to Ollie, offering a wipe. He didn’t look at her, yet he took what she offered from her outstretched hand. I watched in fascination as my boy drew the wipe to his nose and sniffed, scrunching his face up.
“Smell,” he uttered. “Smell, Da.”
I leaned over and pointed to his ear defenders, but the shake of his head said they were staying on. Mabel’s was a little busier, the noise level higher than when we’d arrived so leaving them on was probably a good call. Sometimes my smart boy knew what he needed before his old dad did.
Mabel wiped her own face as she cast me a wink, then Ollie copied, smearing the ice cream further around his face. When Mabel laughed, so did Ollie even though it was unlikely he could hear her, but he continued to clean his face as happy as could be.
“He’s autistic?”
The old woman’s words jarred in my head for absolutely no reason, and I nodded slightly. The pat on my hand was unexpected and in no way condescending, but utterly welcome. She was telling me she was an ally without the need of words. Thanking Jack shot to the top of my list of things to do.
“Welcome to Alcott, Lewis. I think you and Ollie might just be in the perfect place.”
I hoped she was right because the little town was worming its way under my skin already. Ollie and I were feeling right at home within such a small space of time.
Chapter Three
Home was a two-bedroom flat above the local bakery on Alcott’s cute little high street. The rent was cheap due to the early morning smells travelling up from below. Those bakers started at 3 a.m. and made quite the noise. I’d become accustomed to it, sleeping through their din mostly. And the smells… Well, heavenly really. I was constantly hungry for pastries, never good for the waistline, so I had a firm ‘do not go there’ mantra I’d adopted not long after moving in. It didn’t always work.
I loved my flat. It was clean and homey with plenty of space for me and Wolf. The huge grey tabby had his favourite spots around the place and was the laziest creature I’d ever encountered.
Plonking my keys and wallet on the kitchen counter, I went in search of the giant beast for my routine cuddles. Ritual dictated every time I came home, we both needed snuggles before anything else. I found him cuddled at the bottom of the unmade bed, half his furry body tucked under the duvet. Lucky bugger, he’d probably been there all day.
“Hey, buddy.”
Wolf yawned and stretched, then got his purr on. He was so loud he sounded like a pneumatic drill in my ear when I lay down next to him. Giving a nuzzle into his velvety neck, I kicked my shoes off and relaxed. This
dude made living alone far less lonely than it needed to be. An inhuman companion, the best there was.
My phone ringing was an annoyance, but I retrieved the thing from my jeans pocket anyway. When I saw the name, I answered cheerfully.
“Hey, Mum. What’s shaking?”
“Jack! I wanted to make sure you’re still on for the weekend?”
My mum worked two towns over, in Colefield. The population a little bigger than Alcott, her practice thrived since it served most of the towns and villages within a fifty-mile radius.
“Yes, of course. I’m coming with Jill and Davy.”
She chuckled. “No plus one, darling?”
“Mum,” I sighed. “At twenty-three we don’t have plus one’s, we hook up.”
“Well, all right then. I don’t need to hear the details.”
No, she really didn’t. My mum was great, my advocate in all things gay. She’d left my dad when he’d said he refused to have a ‘faggot’ living under his roof. How he’d kept that homophobic attitude a secret throughout their marriage always confused me, since my mum was a mental health counsellor at a men’s health clinic. Often, she had gay clients and made no secret of the fact she believed love was love, gender didn’t matter. She should have been able to figure out my dad for the piece of shit he was far sooner than me coming out.
“Ah. One day, Jack, you will bring a handsome young man home to meet your mother.”
“Sure I will.” Maybe I would but that day was not this coming Saturday.
“Bring your wallet, I expect a donation.”
“Always.” I rolled my eyes because she knew better. “Remind me of the cause again?”
“Equipment for Heather’s centre. Sensory stuff, tailored more for the autistic kids.”
A worthy cause, I’d make as big a donation as I could. “That’s great.”
I thought about Lewis and his little boy, Ollie. I’d never really been around children on the spectrum, didn’t know much about autism, but it was likely Ollie had an ASD diagnosis, or something similar, from the little I’d seen. Whatever… Made no odds. The kid was cute, his dad cuter.
“Are we doing Mabel’s tomorrow?” I asked, looking forward to our weekly lunch date.
“Ah, shit, I forgot. I have a client briefing. I’m going to have to skip out. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’ll see you Saturday, anyway.”
“With Jill.”
I laughed. “And Davy.”
“Snuggle that beastly cat of yours for me and I’ll see you at the weekend.”
“Will do. Love you, Mum.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
She hung up, and I grinned at the ceiling. My mum was a loon, I swore it. Time to move; I had a date with a pint of beer and my best mate at the bar down the road.
“Sorry, Wolf. Need to go get handsome.”
“Heard the gossip?” Davy asked while draining the last of his pint.
“What gossip?”
“Jill is slacking!” My sister was so fired as my source of all things pertaining to village rumours. “Some bloke from over the west coast bought the old Marson’s place. He moved in with his kid a few weeks back.”
Lewis and Ollie. I knew it instantly. “I may have met the gossip and his son today at the library.”
“Really? Tell me more,” Davy winked.
“Between you and me, the guy is fucking gorgeous.”
Davy smirked. “Always thinking with your dick, Jack.”
“Yeah, well… Someone’s got to.”
Davy was straight, but he liked sex so much I doubted I’d need to buy him more than a beer and make mushy eyes at him before he’d let me haul him over to the dark side. But nope, he’d always had a thing for Jill. On the crazy off chance that scenario might ever happen; Davy was off limits.
“His kid is adorable.”
“Yeah? You always did have a soft spot for kids. I can imagine you at forty with a football team.”
I loved kids. I’d thought about becoming a teacher for all of two seconds, but I loved books too much and teaching would have put me off kids for life. The library was the next best thing as far as a career went. There was nothing grand about my job, but the pay was plenty for a single bloke, and I often got some decent reading time in on slow days which was a huge bonus.
Gulping down the rest of my pint, I caught the bartender on his way by and ordered another for us both. Two was enough on a work night.
“You sure you can’t come on Saturday?” Davy was going out clubbing in Colefield with a couple of mutual friends. Normally I’d be all up for it, but I knew I’d just want to go home after being at Mum’s beck and call all day.
Yip, officially old before my time.
“Sure. It’s Mum’s thing. I’ll be gopher boy all day, you know how she gets. Gonna have to leave the dancing for another time.”
“Shame. I enjoy watching you flounder about trying to get laid. How old are the condoms in your wallet, Jack?”
I burst out laughing, he wasn’t wrong. I had no tact, my pickup lines horrendously corny; they never worked. “Next time.”
“Yeah. I’ll be your wingman.” He would, he didn’t care that I was picking up blokes, Davy was a great friend that way.
“Drink up, time to get on home. Getting pissed on a weeknight is a terrible idea.”
Chapter Four
Coming with Ollie was the most terrible idea in the world. The counsellor had come highly recommended, and I’d been lucky to get an appointment so quickly. This would be the first time since I’d lost Steph that I was actively seeking help to get my life back on the right track. I should have done it years ago, maybe I could have staved off the depression that made me move miles from home without a net to catch me.
Stephanie was no longer the reason I’d sought help though. No, the struggle I was having coping with Ollie had propelled the decision. I’d had the foresight to realise it would not get any easier if I didn’t do something. I desperately needed advice, a guiding hand from people that knew better than me.
Dr Marshall’s credentials were impressive; one particular case study had caught my eye above all. She knew her way around the spectrum, clients sang her praises for her knowledge. Another bonus - she was only two towns over, a twenty-minute drive from the house at most.
To say I was nervous was probably being economical with the truth. I’d never been a talker, even before I’d lost Steph. With Ollie almost non-verbal, I didn’t have much cause to use my voice. Being a graphic designer, most of my work was online and through email. While I could write you a kick arse, two-hundred-word email, I struggled to string a sentence together in person, often feeling ridiculous. Getting over the anxiety was a priority.
Dr Marshall had assured bringing Ollie to the appointment was fine. Now I was second guessing that decision, but the only people I could safely leave Ollie with were not my best friends, understandably upset I’d uprooted their grandson. For the time being, where I went, so did Ollie.
Today was not a good day. I’d slept the same way I always did - like shit - and Ollie’s mood wasn’t helping. Ollie was in a pitiful frame of mind, everything reducing him to meltdown, testing my every patience. His high-pitched scream when I’d put on blue socks instead of green had sparked an almighty headache. I knew the day I was in for; the worst kind.
The receptionist at the doctor’s office had smiled kind-heartedly when I’d arrived with Ollie slung over my shoulder, like she was used to seeing manhandled children every day.
In the corner of the waiting room, there were kid’s toys, a small box of things Ollie eyed warily until he found the tiny drum. For eight solid minutes he’d been banging the thing, and I was fit to burst. Attempting to remove the toy would end up with an epic tantrum so I didn’t even try, just sat down and put up with it. He may not have liked other people’s noise, but he certainly didn’t mind his own when the mood suited him.
“Lewis?” A tall woman with auburn hair called fro
m the doorway of the waiting room. “I’m Dr Marshall. Are you and Ollie ready?”
I gave her a nod then stood and moved to Ollie, placing my hand on top of his to show it was time to stop, having no choice but to remove the toy. “We need to leave this here, buddy.”
Feeling the twitch of his fingers under mine, I knew a fight was coming. Quickly gathering him up from the floor, the drum fell back into the box and Ollie wailed loudly, still clutching the stick he’d been using to beat the toy with.
Then his feet went, his knees digging into my ribs as he kicked out. I tightened my hold on him like they had taught me and tried to collect his flailing body to mine. He was getting too big for me to handle this way and every time I needed to use the hold; I was terrified I’d hurt him.
“Lead the way,” I called out to Dr Marshall.
By the time we’d reached her room and were safely behind closed doors, Ollie just about gave in. I was out of breath and sure I had new bruises on top of old bruises from a previous encounter of the same nature.
Carefully putting Ollie down, he sprawled out on the floor and kicked out some more, his yelling starting up again. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes because I was so far beyond exhausted and questioning if this move really had been a good idea. I couldn’t see how I would cope, if I could do this.
Dr Marshall pointed to a chair at the far side of the room and I gratefully took a seat. She sat opposite and smiled. “I record my sessions. Is that okay, Lewis?” A confidentiality agreement bound her, I didn’t see why not. “He’s not a happy boy today, hhmm?”
“No. Nothing has been right since he got up.”
“And that’s difficult.” She looked over at Ollie, who’d stopped thrashing, but had kept up with his noise. He’d calm eventually, was in a safe spot, so I let him be. Learning to disregard behaviours were coming easier, but I still found it difficult to master the art of ignoring. Some days, like today, it seemed impossible. “Is he in school yet?”
