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During the plane ride, Charlie thought, "Am I going to be any good as a father to Suruli?" He had asked himself this question many times ever since the child got the diagnosis of 'developmental delay'. While he knew it wasn't as serious as other things, such as autism, a diagnosis Amita insisted on, it still made him wonder if he did anything wrong. Maybe they should have gotten more educational toys or restricted television with more rigidity? Or what if they'd gotten a nanny with more experience?

He found himself distancing a bit from the child, out of insecurity, and only disciplining when the behavior affected others. While admiring Amita's dedication, he thought she was becoming obsessed and looking at the boy through the wrong lens. What the boy needed, in his view, was plenty of speech therapy, love and patience, though he wanted Suruli to be ready for kindergarten.

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By noon eastern time the next day, after meeting with a high level agent from the National Security Agency, Charlie was in a submarine, working on a top secret project that would save many lives. The first officer welcomed him and gave him a brief tour of the mess hall, the area where the mathematician would be sleeping and the main control area. Charlie had top security clearance and so could see as much as he wanted of the submarine. After grabbing a quick lunch, he went to work.

Meanwhile, Amita conducted her first class of the day, eventually noticing Swati sitting in a back room. She discretely acknowledged him, while still focused on her lecture. After the class, he greeted her and told her about some changes he wanted. Amita took note of them. They talked until it was time for Amita's next class.

For lunch, she had leftovers, while working on the project for Swati in her small office. Soon, the nanny called.

"I've got good news," she told Amita.

"What?"

"Suruli said a phrase at speech therapy!"

"Really! What phrase?"

"Choo choo!"

"That's great."

"He's been saying it a lot."

"I'm so glad! He's finally making progress!"

"I'm happy for him."

Just then, a student peered through the doorway and Amita had to leave the phone conversation.

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Charlie did not call until three days later, during the evening. Alan and Hugh had their turns to talk to him, first.

"How's school?" Charlie asked Hugh.

"Same."

"Keep up the good work," Charlie said.

"How are you helping the cops?" Hugh asked.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you. It' s an ongoing investigation."

"Okay."

"Help out with Suruli when you can," Charlie said.

"I will. He actually said something!"

"What?"

"Choo choo."

"That's great!"

"Suruli won't eat dinner."

"What do you mean?"

"He'll make the sign for Dad, and then won't eat. Amita is worried. I'll pass you to her." Hugh passed the phone to Amita

"So Suruli won't eat?" Charlie asked.

"His routine has been disrupted," Amita said. "He associates eating dinner with you."

"So he doesn't eat at all?"

"He'll eat a little bit before bed," Amita said, "Charlie, this isn't normal. Most kids would just be a little sad."

"I'll be back before ya know it," Charlie tried to assure her, "and he'll be eating dinner."

"I wish I could believe that."

"I gotta go." Charlie looked at the long line of annoyed uniformed men glaring at him. "I'll contact you when I can."

"Fine," Amita said. The couple said their goodbyes and hung up.

Amita got Suruli, gave him some fruit, and proceeded with the bed time routine.

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Charlie surprised them all, one Saturday morning two months later. Amita, with Suruli in her arms went downstairs only to find Charlie in the kitchen, with bags under his eyes and a general haggard appearance.

"Hey! Remember me?" Charlie asked the little boy. "It's Daddy."

The child made the sign for dad.

Charlie said. "I'll go make us some breakfast." Charlie put Suruli in his play area.

Eventually, Hugh came down the stairs, and noticed Charlie.

"Hey dad!" Hugh smiled.

"Good morning!"

"When did you get home?"

"Very early this morning."

"Cool."

"Sit down. I'm making scrambled eggs."

"Okay."

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On Monday, Charlie returned to all the classes, which had be graciously covered by various colleagues. He told each class that he had done consulting work with the Miami police. Right after his pre lunch class, Larry came to see him in the classroom.

"Larry!" Chalrie smiled.

"Charlie! How was Miami?"

"Lots of work," Charlie said.

"Charlie, could we have lunch? I'd like to talk with you about something rather delicate."

"Sure." Charlie was very curious. "Let's go."

The two friends went to one of Cal Sci's cafeteria's, got their food and sat down.

"What did you want to talk about?" Charlie asked.

"Suruli."

"Amita didn't put you up to this did she?" Charlie asked suspiciously.

"No," Larry assured him. "It's based on my own observations."

"Really?"

"I came to visit one Saturday, when Alan invited me over. I noticed some odd behaviors in Suruli."

"Such as?"

"The way he lines up his cars, and hyperfocuses on his legos," Larry began. "Doesn't seem quite typical."

"Kids his age are eccentric," Charlie shrugged.

"He's not like other kids his age I've been around," Larry said. "They either interact with you, or withdraw out of shyness. Suruli just seemed preoccupied with his toys."

"So you're saying that Suruli's behavior can't be explained by age?"

"Charlie, I've known people with Asbergers or autism, and Suruli has some of those traits," Larry added.

"You think so?"

"Yes I do. His lack of interaction, his love of routine, the tantrums, and the lack of talking, which I understand is unusual at his age."

"What tantrums?"

"He had a tantrum, when there was a short circuit and the TV turned off.."

"We've taken him to a developmental pediatrician. He said that Suruli has as developmental delay."

"Get a second opinion."

"Amita made an appointment with another developmental pediatrician."

"That's a good move on her part," Larry said, then advised, "Observe your son. Do some more research."

"I sure will." Charlie was now a little more convinced.

The two men talked more and after lunch, Charlie meet with his advisee and then did his own research. He looked at the information with such different eyes to the point, where he went to see Amita to apologize. To his surprise, Swati was there, talking with her.

"Charlie," Amita smiled "You remember Swati. We're testing a few things."

"I'll talk to you later then."

"I've a got class soon. How about three?"

"Sure." Charlie returned to his office.

Charlie returned to Amita's office at three, and began, "I believe..."

"Believe what?"

"That Suruli has autism."

"Really? What made you change your mind?"

"Larry and I talked," Charlie said.

"And he convinced you?"

"He helped me see things in a different light."

"Welcome aboard," Amita smiled.

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At dinner, Charlie was subdued and didn't say much. He picked at his food, and looked at his younger son. Suruli had been a second chance for Charlie to do parenting from the beginning. With Hugh, he had missed so much. Charlie realized that some of his dreams of fatherhood might not come to fruition. So he grieved and worried.

"Will he be able to go to school with other kids? Live independently?" Charlie wondered, not knowing yet just how severe his son's autism would be. "What if he regresses?"

After dinner, Amita showed him some books that she had gotten on autism and Asbergers. Then, she put the boy to bed.

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Charlie found himself hit hard, when the second developmental pediatrician after three sessions of observations, and many pages of questions, diagnosed Suruli with borderline Pervasive Developmental Diagnosis-Not otherwise specified.

"Isn't that usually a temporary diagnosis?" Amita asked. To her, this was just a confirmation of what she had suspected.

"Children his age aren't exactly very good at social interaction to begin with, so it's harder to diagnose autism or Asbergers at this time."

"I see."

"I recommend speech therapy and occupational therapy. He'll need extra help in school."

"We'll make sure he gets it," Amita said.

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"I want a motorbike for my birthday," Hugh told Amita and Charlie over dinner, when the latter asked.

"No. It's too dangerous," Charlie said.

"I'd avoid the freeways," Hugh promised.

"How would you pay for the insurance?" Amita asked.

"Insurance?"

"In this state, every vehicle has to have insurance," Amita said.

"I could get a part time job."

"Absolutely not," Charlie said. "School comes first."

"What about a weekend job?"

"No. You need to have competitive grades," Charlie said.

"Besides, I think you're too young to get a license anyway," Amita added.

Hugh sighed. "It would use less gas than a car."

"Your life is worth much more than a few gallons of gas," Charlie told him.

Annoyed, Hugh asked to be excused from the table. Charlie gave the go ahead.

Suruli, for his part, refused to eat carrots, despite Amita's efforts.

Later, she struggled to get him to bath and then he tried to grab the book she was reading. With a sigh, she put in into his crib.

Then, she went to the master bedroom. They had turned Charlie's bedroom into Suruli's room, and then Alan and Margaret's room became theirs. Charlie was reading some book and was already in his boxers and tee shirt. Alan lived in the gargage-turned- guest house.

Amita, went to the bathroom to wash her hair and then came back. It was short now, so it didn't take too long.

"You used to be more involved," Amita complained. "And now you're distant with Suruli."

"Distant?"

"I don't see you carrying him, talking to him, or playing with him like before. Are you disappointed that he's autistic?"

"No!" Charlie replied emphatically. The truth was that he felt insecure, as a father.

"You sure act like it," Amita complained. "You and Suruli could be in the same room together and you don't even say a single word to him."

"I check up on him, see what he's doing."

"That's not the same. You don't sit down and join him, like I do."

"It's just that uh...he doesn't seem to like it," Charlie said lamely.

"He does, but you have to play by his rules, not yours," Amita said. "I now know how to play cars with him without there being a meltdown! Why? Because I actually spend time with him. I know he's not the son you wanted, but you've got him."

"I never said that!"

"Your actions do!"

"That's is not fair, Amita."

The two fought some more, until Charlie decided to go sleep in the living room.

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The next morning, Hugh noticed his father on the couch.

"Did you and Amtita fight?" Hugh asked.

"Uh?" Charlie said, not quite awake. "What time is it?"

"Seven forty five."

"Better get up then," Charlie mumbled.

"Why are you on the couch?" Hugh asked.

"My..snoring got really bad last night," Charlie said.

"Oh."

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For his fifteenth birthday party, which took place the Saturday before the actual event, Hugh invited a few friends from school. There was pizza, music, conversation, and even some dancing. Rose supervised the event, as did Amita and Charlie. They had decided that the party should take place in the Craftsman and that they would share the cost and the responsibility of chaperoning.

The loudness of the music made Suruli cry, so he was put in the Solarium, along with his play things. Alan kindly stayed in there with him, working on crosswords and Sudoku. Maggie, Don and Robin would join them for a birthday family dinner on the day of the actually event, as this was mostly a teenage party. It went quite well except when Charlie caught a couple of the guest huffing spray paint in the garage.

Hugh got a variety of presents, but the best one came from Amita and Charlie, who gave him a motor cycle simulation game, that came with two sets of handlebars.

"All the joy of motorcycle riding without the risks," Amita smiled.

"Thanks guys!" he told them. He then installed it on the computer, and there were races between him and various guests. Eventually, most of the guests left and it was just Hugh and three close friends, who went to his room.

One of them offered him a joint.

"Are you nuts! They'll smell it," Hugh said. "And I don't know about taking that stuff."

"Don't be a wuss."

"It's not your room we'd be smoking in," Hugh retorted.

"This was sure a cool party," the other friend said.

"Yeah," Hugh agreed.

"I got a copy of Playboy."

"Cool," the other friend said. "Show us."

The boys stared and gaped at the various pages of Playboy.

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The next day Suruli was lining up the many cars he had. Amita pushed Charlie to go the child's play area. Charlie tried to figure out the how of the lineup, and when he thought he did, he tried to help, but Suruli got upset, flapped his arms, and hit him.

"No!" Charlie scolded. "That's not nice!"

Suruli continued to be upset, and was on the border of melting down, when Amita came in from the dining room. She tried to distract him, but he wouldn't calm down.

"What happened?"

"I tried to help with his cars," Charlie said. "And he hit me."

"Ask him where the car goes," Amita advised. As if inspired, she gave Suruli, after he calmed down, a plank of wood so that he could see his cars go down. He loved it.

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Before everyone knew it, Suruli's first day of school came. At the IEP meeting, it was decided that Suruli would go to regular preschool three times a week, get an aide for an hour a day, and get additional speech therapy through the school district. Amita objected, as the district psychologist diagnosed him with a developmental delay, rather than with PDD-NOS. After some back and forth, some modifications were made and Amita signed off on it reluctantly, as the speech therapist as told her that IEPs were a way to get help, not diagnosis. She hoped that down the line, she could call for another IEP meeting and get more help, using Suruli's experiences in preschool.

Since it was his first day, Charlie, Amita and Alan came along with the nanny to take him. This disrupted his routine as he was used to having breakfast at home, and then watching Sesame Street for a while at the Nanny's apartment on weekdays, or on weekends, watching TV at home. Once they were in the classroom, Amita explained, "Sweetie, as I've been saying, you're going to school because you're a big boy and to learn."

Suruli, now three frowned and said, "Tee Vee!" The speech therapy was starting to pay off.

"Later. Now it's time for school," Amita told him gently, doing the sign for it.

"No!" Suruli protested. "Tee Vee!"

"It'll be fun," Alan said.

"TEE VEE! TEE VEE! TEE VEE," Suruli screamed and started to flap his arms. Amita tried to use the techniques she had read about to calm him, but to no avail.

Amita fretted, "Maybe it's too soon for school"

TBC