As Charlie tended to Suruli, Amita grieved and fretted in the shower.

"What if he regresses and gets full blown autism like that case I read about?" she mused with worry and leaned against the shower wall. "This isn't what I pictured motherhood to be. What about my career? Am I selfish to think about it?" Soon, she found her eyes filled with tears and she sobbed quietly, grieving for what might not be. "What am I going to do? Will I find a doctor who believes me?"

She composed herself, or made herself think she was composed soon after showering. She graded some quizzes from one of her astrophysics courses in the kitchen.

Charlie did his own grieving, though it wasn't as deep.

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The next evening, Amita and Charlie went to have dinner with Rose, who wanted to increase visitation. It was a Japanese restaurant with a sushi bar.

"I don't know why we agreed to this dinner," Charlie grumbled as he drove them to the restaurant.

"Let's see what she has in mind," Amita said. Now that she had her own child, she felt more understanding as to what Rose had gone through during her time in jail. Amita could never imagine only getting to see Suruli twice a month. "Try to listen for a change."

"I do listen!" Charlie got defensive.

"When it suits you." Amita looked out of the passenger window. She noticed the beginning of fine lines on her mouth and near her eyes. Then, she remembered the good percentage of baby fat that never went away.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"When you don't want to believe something, nothing - even the most compelling evidence - convinces you."

"We're here," Charlie said gruffly as he parked the car.

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The couple put on a front of being united as they joined Rose at a square wooden table. Soon, a waitress asked if they wanted anything to drink. Charlie ordered a beer while Amita and Rose each ordered a glass of wine.

Rose began. "So, I was thinking that maybe I could have extended visitation."

"How extended?" Charlie asked, not smiling.

"Instead of Friday, Saturday and Sunday on alternate weeks, I was hoping we could increase it to Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday on alternate weeks," Rose suggested, promising "I'll make sure he does his homework."

"I'll need to think about it," Charlie said.

"Fine. Take as long as you need," Rose said, happy that Charlie didn't say no outright. The waitress came with their drinks and soon, they all ordered sushi.

"So how's Sorooli?" Rose asked. "Sorry if I mispronounced that."

"Suruli," Amita corrected her. "It's Tamil, as are my parents. I wanted to honor my roots."

"He's fine," Charlie said.

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On Saturday, Robin, Don, and Maggie, who looked like her mother, came over to the house.

"Don't boast so much about Maggie's talking," Robin warned Don. "It seems to be sensitive subject for Amita."

"Sure." Don opened the door for his little girl.

Charlie, Hugh and Amita welcomed them. Alan, as usual, cooked. Suruli seemed to be building some sort of structure with the large legos.

Soon, Maggie joined him. The three and a half year old took some of the legos for herself and started to build something from her imagination. Finding the sight adorable, Robin took a picture.

After a while, Maggie showed off her talking doll to Suruli. "Look! Grandma Pam gave it to me." Suruli ignored her and continued to build his structure.

"Maybe he'll be an engineer when he grows up," Don suggested light heartedly. "He could be the one who actually designs the flying cars."

"That would be so cool!" Hugh said.

"How's school, little buddy?" Don asked the fourteen year old.

"Great. I got a B on a history test!" he announced proudly.

"That's great!" Don congratulated his nephew.

"Hugh's an excellent student," Charlie boasted.

As they talked, Maggie decided to add to Suruli's structure, but this upset the latter, who hit her. She screamed "He hitted me!" Don and Robin ran to comfort her.

"Suruli! That wasn't nice!" Charlie scolded him. "You're getting a time out!" He carried the boy to a corner and left him there.

"We're so sorry," Amita said to Don and Robin. "Suruli hasn't quite mastered playing with others." She wasn't ready to give them the diagnosis yet, but the incident illustrated to her the importance of getting therapy for Suruli. Charlie, on the other hand, thought of it as part of the terrible twos.

Amita decided to tell her mother, with whom she shared almost everything over the phone explaining to her what it meant. Amita wanted someone to talk to about Suruli. She felt like a single mother.

"Are you sure he's autistic?" her mother asked with some doubt.

"He's got the symptoms," Amita said. "I took him to a specialist, but he said it was just a developmental mother's intuition tells me otherwise."

"You've got to follow that," her mother agreed. "The son of a friend of mine is a very good doctor. He's been known to diagnose even the rarest of diseases."

"What's his specialty?"

"He's a general doctor."

"Oh."

"Would you like me to set up appointment? You could come when Cal Sci is on Christmas Break in December. It would also be a good chance for a visit."

"I don't think Suruli would hold up for so long in an airplane," Amita said diplomatically.

"You don't have to do a direct flight."

"It's okay, mom. I think I'll wait on that."

"I'll send you some materials about him in my next email," Amita's mom said. "Give Suruli my love! Tell Hugh that I said hi."

"I will."

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Amita and Charlie, in between classes, took Suruli to his first speech therapy session.

The speech therapist, named Bob, introduced himself to Amita and Suruli, who seemed focused on a toy.

Amita and Charlie wanted to be there during the session, but the speech therapist told them, "I need to be one on one with Suruli. Your being in the session could distract him."

"Okay." Amita reluctantly agreed. "He likes anything with wheels or mechanical. Don't bother with stuffed animals."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bob said and took the boy. Amita sat down in the waiting room, reading a book on autism she obtained from the Cal Sci library, while Charlie worked on a math related article. Eventually, Bob and Suruli came out.

"How'd it go?"

"I tried to get him to say some consonant sounds," Bob began. "He said one."

"Which one?"

"MM: the sound made for 'm'."

"That's a start," Charlie said, feeling hopeful

Amita asked, "Is there anything we could be doing at home?"

"Reading to him and showing him how to sign."

"How to sign?"

"Young children learn signing much faster than talking. There are lots of books out there on showing kids how to sign."

"We'll do that," Amita said.

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That night at dinner, Hugh asked, "Can I go to a party on Saturday?"

"Whose party is it?" Amita asked.

"Friend of a friend. It's for his birthday."

"No. You know the rules. You can't go to parties unless I know the parent in charge," Amita said.

"No fair!"

"Life is not always fair," Amita told him, as she struggled to feed a reluctant Suruli his dinner. He would only eat the steamed carrots, and the meatloaf, but not the mashed potatoes.

After a few sullen moments, Hugh said, "I got homework to finish. Can I be excused from the table?"

"Go ahead," Charlie said. "I'll check your math homework when you're done."

"Okay."

"How did the speech therapy go?" Alan asked.

"He said the sound for 'm'," Charlie said brightly.

"He needs more than speech therapy," Amita said. "I want to put him in occupational therapy."

"Amita, he's not even three!" Charlie protested. "And the developmental pediatrician didn't recommend that."

"I made an appointment with another developmental pediatrician," Amita said. "It's in a few months, but I put us on the cancellation list."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Amita, why do you keep insisting that our son has autism?"

"I've been doing research," Amita replied. "Have you read the materials I've given you?"

"Some of it," Charlie said. "I'm still not convinced."

"He's got trouble with communication, he has strange play, and doesn't interact well with others." Amita listed using her fingers.

"That all can be explained by the developmental delay," Charlie argued. "It's hard to interact with others if you can't communicate."

"Charlie, our son needs help!"

"And he's getting it."

"He needs more help," Amita argued. "Why can't you see that?"

Furious at what she was implying, Charlie got up and left the dining room in a huff.

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Hugh, that Saturday, had some friends over, and they hung out in his room for one purpose: to watch forbidden movies. One of his friends, Josh brought movies and his laptop.

"What have ya got?" Hugh asked Josh.

"I've got , Hell House 2, Aztec Mummy 7 and, Demons 4."

The five boys voted and Hell House 2 won by one vote.

Unfortunately for them, Amita made a surprise visit to Hugh's room. "What's going on? What are you watching?" She had heard the sounds of a movie being played and then a laptop being closed.

"Nothing," Hugh lied.

"What's behind your back?" Amita demanded of Josh. Reluctantly, Josh showed it to her.

"Open it."

He did so, and she saw a paused movie, during a time when one of the main characters was running around.

She took it from him, ejected the DVD, and saw the title. "You all are too young to watch this! I want you all to call your parents and tell them to pick you up. This party is over. Hugh: You and I are going to talk."

When all of them left, Amita and Charlie lectured Hugh.

"Don't you realize that could mess up your mind?" Amita demanded. "And you lied to us! You said that you and your friends were going to play board games!"

"You're grounded!" Charlie added. "And there'll be no TV or internet for a week."

"Yes, Dad." With that Hugh got up, said goodnight, and went to his room to sulk.

TBC