I don't know what made me think of this idea. But we'll see how it goes. I just want to say right now that I respect anyone that has autism/ASD, and the views displayed in this story are not personally my own. They are the characters'. I know that I create them, and that I give them that liberty, but the negative responses are only placed in this story as contrast and plot. I do not mean to offend anyone at all. Just please understand that it does not reflect my view on the situations, themes, or subjects. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think.
Roger watched his wife Samantha as she rocked their newborn baby in her arms. "He's everything," he whispered to her, earning a nod of agreement. The new parents looked at each other. "Thank you," Roger breathed. Samantha cocked her head, her voice still hoarse from screaming through labor. "For giving me a child. I know you were still on the fence about it, but you listened to me, and that means a lot." he continued. Her warm smile told him that she loved him to the moon and back. Roger snuggled close to his wife and child, closing his eyes happily and enjoying everything he had before him currently—his own renewed mental health, his financial status, his family, his friends.
And then a sudden thought made him snap his eyes open immediately: did he really deserve it?
X x X
It was a devastating doctor's visit. Roger and Samantha had become very concerned about their baby after his second birthday when he began walking less and less. Instead, he was resorting back to crawling on the floor like he had at six months old. He hadn't spoken any words yet. They were worried that perhaps he was degenerating due to a disease or some sort of weakness in his body—the parents didn't want their perfect little boy plagued by anything that might later cause him pain. The appointment was scheduled to start at nine-thirty in the morning.
They weren't released until three in the afternoon.
After hearing the parents' complaints and concerns, the doctor took him into deep examination. He watched the child play, watched him eat (or rather, refuse to eat), watched him cry, watched him react when taken away from his mother. The diagnosis was troubling. "Mr. and Mrs. Campbell," the doctor began slowly. He turned his gaze down onto the floor, where little Jonah Campbel was busy stacking colored blocks into one perfect single line. "I regret to inform you that your son has autism." Roger gasped. Samantha let the tears fall immediately as she clung to her husband's arm for support. "It honestly fits the activities he partakes in that you described. I saw it for myself." the man went on sadly. "He doesn't eat, he screams when separated from the people he's attached to, he consistently rocks himself side to side, he doesn't create any imaginative play, he doesn't babble…and then of course…there's the telltale sign…." he once again looked down at Jonah's perfect line of blocks. Samantha sobbed. Roger refused to let any tears fall yet—he had to be the strong one of the family. "How can we help him? How can we fix it?" he urged the man. But he received a shake of the head. "There's simply no cure for this disorder. I do know of a colleague that is conducting neurological studies over at the hospital, and I'm sure he'd love to give Jonah his best efforts. He'll teach you how to work with him. And not to mention, he will be able to conduct research to benefit children born with this years from now." the doctor tried. Samantha sobbed loudly, "I don't care about the children years from now! I want my baby to be normal!"
That broke Roger's walls. If even his wife saw how bleak everything looked, things weren't going to get better. No response could be given to the grieving mother. The trio sat in that small room in silence for a long while, all tearful eyes upon Jonah who didn't have a single clue that all these people were crying over him.
X x X
Just a few months later, Roger and Samantha were sleeping soundly in their bed together late one evening. It was quiet in the house, very peaceful. Night was one of Roger's favorite times because of how still everything was—there were no doctor's appointments, no paperwork, no arguing; all of that seemed to be put on hold. And it was a nice break. Roger allowed for every nerve his in skin to take in what it was feeling at the moment. He sighed at the softness of the sheets. Samantha's breathing was slow and steady. They rested back-to-back, sharing the comforter, which Roger loved. He was so close to drifting off, letting his body slip into that second stage of peace, when suddenly, the nightly tantrum started.
Usually, the parents took turns for who was going to get up with the baby. It wasn't Roger's turn that night, but he whispered to Samantha that he would go if she wanted to rest. Without a word in response, she slid out of bed and hurried out of the room. Roger hugged his pillow as he listened to the crying. No, not crying. Screaming. How could such a tiny little child make such a huge noise? It was a pattern—Jonah would always awaken at this time of the evening because it had been too long of separation from his mother. He couldn't help it. It was the autism. Every time that word crossed through Roger's mind, he cringed. His perfect son was already so damaged. Could he ever be fixed?
It was taking quite a while to settle Jonah back down again. Roger heard Samantha trying to sing a lullaby to him, but all the baby did was shriek. Several minutes ticked by. Suddenly, the bedroom door opened again and Samantha entered, but Jonah was nowhere in sight. In fact, he was still screaming back in his nursery as if nobody had even gone in to help in the first place. Roger sat up when Samantha turned a bright light on. "Is everything alright?" he asked, rubbing his eyes against the harshness. Something heavy and hard slammed on the mattress. Roger squinted. A suitcase. His jaw fell as he saw Samantha angrily throwing her clothes and belongings inside haphazardly, as if she had one goal to reach that had no prize for neatness—to get out as fast as she could. Roger grabbed her wrist nervously. "W-What are you—"
"Let go of me!" she shouted. Roger didn't know what to do. No one had yelled at him like that since his time in the asylum…after the island…. "Samantha, what are you doing? Samantha, talk to me! Explain what's going—"
"I'll tell you what's going on. I can't do this anymore. I can't…I can't listen to him scream all day and all night and know that there's nothing I can do to help him! I can't go sit in another hospital room and wait to hear that my child is never going to be what I expected! I can't watch him line up his god forsaken rubber ducks in perfect rows, then knock them down, then rebuild them over and over and over again for hours at a time! It's driving me crazy! I can't do it! I can't do it!"
She flung her suitcase off the bed as she swung a coat around her pajamas. Roger leapt from the covers. "Samantha!" he cried, blocking the door. "Stop this! You're just overtired! Just…just let me go see what he wants! I'll call out of work tomorrow so I can take him to the doctor, I'll even go on extended leave if that's what you'd like! I'll help you, just let me help you do this!" he shouted, feeling tears start to burn when she kept shaking her head and pushing past him. "Let me go!" she shouted. Roger tried to grab her but she ran to the front door. "Samantha, please don't—"
"I'm not coming back, Roger! I-I…I want a divorce!"
Nothing hit him harder. How could she say that? Had their relationship really suffered that much? "Samantha…you're tired. You don't know what you're saying. Just…just come here, let me hold you—"
"I already told you, I'm not coming back! I've been…I've been thinking about this for a very long time, Roger."
"…H-How long…?"
"Since Jonah was six months old. Before we even knew he had…this. Roger, I didn't want a baby. I didn't want one and you kept saying that all you thought of when you were a kid and sitting alone in that asylum was how you wished you had family that would come rescue you. I…I felt bad for you! So I gave in. And look at what I got! This isn't a common condition! This isn't easy! Maybe if I hadn't married someone with a medical history of insanity…then maybe the baby would've been normal!"
Roger was floored. Everything she'd just said…it hurt him worse than spears. "Me?" he whispered in disbelief. "This is because of me?"
"Yes! The doctor said it's a neurological disorder, and mental disorder; that's what you had! You…you passed it on. And I didn't even want this child to begin with…. Roger, I want a divorce. I'm done with this. I don't love you, and I can't spend another day with…with…him!" she shouted, tears streaming down her face. Roger was at a complete loss for words. Nothing was going to change her mind about this. Nothing.
Samantha heaved a big tearful sigh, grabbed her suitcase, and stepped out the front door. "I'm going to my parents' house. Tell the lawyer to bring the divorce papers there." she said. The door slammed shut. Roger couldn't move. He couldn't think. He couldn't even breathe. What had just happened? Please, please let this be a dream. Let this be over at daybreak. But he knew it wouldn't be. The shrieking sobs of Jonah brought him back to his reality; he was alone. Heart aching worse than it ever had before, Roger ran towards the nursery. He snatched the wailing baby out of his cradle and hugged him tightly. The endless sobbing commenced. He crumpled onto the floor, clinging to Jonah, rocking him back and forth, bawling as if he too were a child. Jonah eventually stopped his tantrum at the sensation of being swayed back and forth—it was his favorite thing used to calm down. The small boy sucked on his thumb. He reached up with his other hand and flexed it towards the crib. Never any words, just motions. Roger shakily stood up, still sobbing endlessly, and placed his baby in the cradle. Little Jonah let his eyes fall closed like nothing even happened. He didn't know he'd never see his mother again. He didn't know that his father was crying because he was so brokenhearted. All he could perceive was the soft blanket tucked over him, the stuffed rabbit he cherished, and his little thumb stuck comfortingly in his mouth. For a brief moment, Roger wished he could be in this numb little world.
The dark-haired man reached down into the crib to touch the boy's soft cheek with his index finger. "It's just you and me now," he whispered tearfully. A cry of despair caught in his throat, but he didn't let it out. "I'm never going to leave you behind." Roger stood there for several hours, just watching little Jonah sleep without a care in the world. Eventually, his body became so weak with fatigue that he laid down on the floor, and slept the entire night against the carpet of the nursery.
