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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 pla
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 di
“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.”
“I like using the term, because it sounds so scientific, but it basically just means that the brain's flexible.” She put her cup down. “People get brain damage from things like strokes and car accidents and since the brain can't heal, you'd think that whatever function they lose would stay lost, right? But a lot of the time, they get it back. Like if they can't talk right after a stroke, but they do a lot of speech therapy, they'll usually be able to learn to talk again.”
“True for my grandmother. She had a stroke and couldn't talk and then talked again. Happy ending. Until she had another stroke and died.”
“I’m sorry,” Sari said.
“Actually, she was an awful grandmother,” he said. “Really mean. She scared the hell out of me when I was little-every time I saw her, she would tell me I should be ashamed of myself, but she would never tell me why. Maybe she just figured adolescent boys always had something to be ashamed of.” He made a comical face. “Not that she was wrong about that.”
“Well, anyway, she's a perfect example-her brain didn't heal exactly, it's just that other parts of her brain stepped in and took over for the injured part.”
“I believe the term you're looking for is neural plasticity,” he said.
“You catch on fast. So we think-it's still just a theory, but I believe it-that it works the same way for kids with autism. They start off with some real neurological damage, but with enough therapy their brains lay down new pathways, and the undamaged part takes over at least some of what the damaged part was supposed to do.”
“Now that's just cool.”
“I know,” Sari said. “It really is. Here's to the human brain.” They both raised their sake cups and drank.
“Makes you wonder whether it could work for the rest of us,” Jason said as he placed his cup back on the table. “I mean, maybe if I can find a therapist to just keep telling my dad that I’m not the loser he thinks I am, he'd lay down some new pathways and start seeing me in a whole new way. What do you think?”
“I think you'll need forty hours a week to start,” she said. “It won't be cheap.”
“Too bad I really am the loser he thinks I am,” Jason said. “Or I’d be able to afford it.”
“But then you wouldn't need it.”
“I know. It's all so confusing.”
The waitress came and asked if they wanted more sake. They had finished their food a while ago. “I guess we're done,” Jason said. “Unless you want some coffee?” He looked at Sari hopefully.
She hesitated. Then she said, “It's getting late.”
She had left her car at the house, so Jason drove them both back.
“Want to come in?” Jason asked as they got out of the car. “Zack's probably in bed, but you could see how cute he looks when he's asleep.” When she didn't answer right away, he said, “He's like world-class adorable.”
She closed the car door. “I believe you. But I should go.”
“Do you have to?”
She just nodded and headed down the driveway to the street where her car was parked. He followed close behind.
At her car, she said, “Good night. Thanks for-”
He cut her off with an abrupt hand gesture. “So, I’m wondering… how are you going to be when I see you tomorrow? Like this? Friendly and maybe a little interested? Or are you going to be the other Sari? The one who looks at me like I’m some kind of scary nut for just smiling at her?”
“I’ve never looked at you like that,” she said.
“Yeah, you have.” He reached for her hand and she let him take it. He held it lightly, his thumb brushing against the back of her fingers. “I’m not usually the kind of guy who slams his head against a wall over and over again,” he said. “But I was married for a while and I haven't dated anyone in all that time, so maybe the rules are different now. I like you, Sari. A lot. And sometimes it seems like you like me back. But sometimes-”
“I do like you,” she said, trying to sound calm. She didn't feel calm. He was standing too close for her to feel calm, and the way his fingers were playing with hers wasn't helping. “But I think it should stop here.”
“Is there a clinic rule I don't know about? Is this kind of thing frowned on?”
“It's not that,” she said.
“What is it, then?”
“Charlie,” she said.
He dropped her hand. “Who the hell is Charlie? Your boyfriend?”
Sari opened her mouth and heard a strange choking sound that she realized was a laugh. Her laugh. But it seemed wrong to be laughing when Jason was being serious, so she tried to stop, and the effort to suppress it made her shake. She put her hand to her mouth to try to push the laughter back in.
And she realized it wasn't amusement. It was hysteria.
“What's so fu
She shook her head, gasping a little. “Nothing.”
“Who's Charlie?” he asked again. Impatient now. Getting a
“No,” she said, and dropped her hand from her mouth, the hysteria gone as suddenly as it had come. “I don't have a boyfriend.”