The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady - Elizabeth Stuckey-French [30]
Otis, when he was about five, was also diagnosed, but in a pro forma way. Caroline and Vic saw the signs early on—the stiffness, clumsiness, intolerance of change, lack of desire for physical contact, precocious verbal development. But by this time Caroline was so exhausted by her efforts with Ava, and she was so depressed about Otis having the same problems, that she couldn’t bring herself to try every new treatment that came down the pike on Otis—and there were new theories and treatments popping up on the Asperger’s Web sites every week. As a result, Otis had no special therapies whatsoever, nothing but what he got in school, and it was hard to see that he was any worse off, or better off, than Ava. The awful truth: she had the energy to try and fix only one of them.
Suzi turned out to be their comfort child. Caroline and Vic watched baby Suzi fixedly, and when they saw no signs of autism they were so relieved they couldn’t even speak of their joy, and the guilt they felt about their joy. Caroline would carry Suzi around, reveling in her affection and attentiveness, and then some kind of internal alarm would go off and she’d shove Suzi aside and go running back to Ava, whom, she thought, really needed her.
Caroline, because of all this intense activity, had come to depend on Ava’s disability to give her life focus. For years she’d been quietly anxious at the thought of Ava moving out on her own, but that ended once she got the idea of sending Ava to Rhodes College. Now it made her panicky when she considered the possibility of Ava flunking algebra for the second time, of her not having the grades to transfer from Tallahassee Community College to Rhodes College in Memphis, where she’d decided that Ava had to go, because—although she hadn’t told anyone except her best friend, Billie—she planned on moving to Memphis with Ava and living in an apartment in midtown while Ava lived in a dorm and went to college.
Ava would need her to be close by, she’d tell Vic. And you and Suzi and Otis are doing fine here. What would she do about her father? Vic shouldn’t, couldn’t take care of Wilson. She could hire someone. Maybe Nance! Or maybe the two of them would realize that they still loved each other and get married again. Everything would all work out. It had to work out. Of course, Ava could stay here and go to FSU, but it was such a huge school, so big that she wouldn’t make friends and her professors wouldn’t know her and she’d flounder, whereas Rhodes was small, had small classes, and the professors wouldn’t let her slip through the cracks. The kids would be nicer, more motivated, more accepting. And the thing was—if Ava stayed here, then Caroline wouldn’t have an excuse to leave herself.
Caroline had no idea, until she visited Memphis last December, how tired she was of the whole kit and caboodle at home. Trying to keep everything running smoothly. Anticipating everyone’s needs. Nodding and pretending to be interested while her husband droned on and on about portfolio scoring. Driving the same routes over and over again, passing the same Tire Kingdom and BP station and the Melting Pot fondue restaurant where a customer’s hair and face had once caught on fire—every time she drove by she felt compelled to imagine it—and the Christian School with the electronic billboard informing you that All Roads Lead to Jesus! where the parents picking up their saintly children pulled out right in front of her or rode her bumper. Forcing herself to smile at the same competitive soccer moms who forced themselves to smile back. Measuring everything she said in the Asperger’s support group so as not to seem to be one-upping or condescending to the mothers whose kids were either more or less affected than Otis and Ava. Fixing the same unappreciated lunches; sorting the same mounds of vile sour clothes; nagging people to do their chores.
How wonderful to be in someplace totally different from Tallahassee, someplace gritty and urban and mysterious and where she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew! Her father had been the youngest of four children,