DYLAN
Ihadn’texpectedReedto ask me for dinner immediately after blurting out that I’m autistic. The very few times I’ve tried telling people I tried to date, it resulted in bringing the conversation, and everything else, to a screeching halt and making everyone super uncomfortable. Reed’s reaction is perfect. Maybe it’s because he’s a doctor, although I’m often surprised at how little doctors know about autism.
I like Reed, and clearly, I’m attracted to him. I’m happy I was up front with him and even happier that it doesn’t seem to bother him.
“So,” he says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “What would you like to do for dinner? There are some amazing restaurants around here. Or we can stay here. Delivery is always a good option.”
It takes me a second to catch up with what he’s saying. “Staying here sounds good, if you don’t mind,” I say. I don’t want to overwhelm Reed with a whole load of info on autism, but restaurants can sometimes be loud enough that I like to use my earplugs, making conversation difficult.
Looking at my watch, I realize it’s after 6:00 p.m. How the hell have I been here for hours already and haven’t even noticed the time passing? I guess it’s true what they say about time flying when you’re having fun.
Reed pulls out his phone and opens his meal delivery app. We decide quickly on pizza and wings—easy peasy.
While Reed grabs drinks, I settle myself on the soft leather couch. I might have been more comfortable in one of the cozy-looking chairs, keeping a bit more distance between us. Truthfully though, I’m not sure I want distance between us. Plus, if we decide to watch a movie, sitting directly across from the big flat-screen on the wall is a solid idea. Or a good excuse.
When he comes back with my beer, I notice the hardwood floor peeking out from the edge of the cozy rug. “I bet that flooring’s original,” I say as he sits next to me, sending a nervous thrill through my body.
“It is,” he confirms. “One of the selling points of this place was that all the floors and beams are original. I love the feel of these older homes. The details make so much difference to the overall vibe of the place.”
I nod. “I agree. We preserve as much original detail as we can when we’re lucky enough to work on an older home like this one. I hate it when people tear out all the original stuff to put in trendier fixtures.”
We’re sitting so close together we’re almost touching, and my nerves start to kick up. Now that we’ve decided to get to know each other better, I realize I don’t know what that even means. Before I can get too much into my head, Reed takes a deep breath.
“So, this is a little awkward, but I want to be really honest with you, Dylan.” I’m not good at reading body language, but even I can tell Reed is nervous by the way he’s fidgeting and darting his gaze around the room, looking everywhere except at me.
“Okay.” I try to arrange my own expression to look open and friendly, but I get the feeling it makes me look a little deranged, so I try to forget about my face and concentrate on what Reed’s saying.
“So, um. I’m an addict.” For a second, the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Not because I’m horrified, just surprised.
“Oh,” I say. “You’ve recovered now though?” I don’t know much about addiction, and it feels like a dumb question, but it’s what pops into my head.
“Recovering,” he corrects. “I’ve been clean and healthy for a long time now. It was something that happened before I went to med school. But it’s not something that ever goes away, and I want to be as honest with you as you’ve been with me.”
I don’t reply right away, trying to process the information. I’m curious about what happened and how someone as confident and bright as Reed ended up with an addiction.
He takes another deep breath. “It was a really low point in my life. My parents kicked me out at seventeen because they couldn’t accept that I’m gay, and my childhood wasn’t exactly idyllic even before that. I didn’t really have much of a plan, other than I knew I wanted to be a doctor, but I didn’t know how I was going to make it happen, especially with no help from my folks. I was living in LA, couch surfing, not sure what I was going to do next. Things got worse when I was in a car accident. I was driving, and the airbags went off. I ended up with a few injuries, but the friend in the car with me was badly hurt.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” I say, but Reed seems like he’s in a rush to continue as fast as possible. Maybe it’s so he finishes before losing his nerve.
“That was around the time doctors were handing out opioid pain meds like they were candy, and the general public didn’t know how dangerous they were. So, I got sent home, or, well, to my friend’s house, with Vicodin to deal with the pain. And without going into all the gory details, one thing led to another, and I ended up a full-fledged addict.” He stops to take a breath, and I notice how shaky he is. I have the urge to reach out and hold his hand, which is strange because I don’t usually have thoughts like that.
“I was a mess for a while. I ended up homeless for a short time before I got help.”
“Oh… Oh wow, Reed,” I say, not sure how to react. His confession seems like a way bigger deal than mine.
He’s looking down at his hands in his lap, and I know I’m supposed to say something, I just don’t know what it is, and I start feeling panicky. Another one of the many weird ways I experience autism is that I struggle to express how I feel, especially if it’s in relation to another person. It’s not that I don’t have the feelings—I really,reallydo, and they’rebig.I feel so much empathy for what Reed has been through; I just don’t know how to show him. I can’t find the words or the physical gestures people expect in these situations. But then I remember what he said to me earlier.
“I’m… um, I’m happy you told me,” I say, unsure if this response works, but when his shoulders drop down from his ears, where he’d had them tightly clenched from stress, I feel better. The way he visibly relaxes shows me I was at least in the ballpark.
“Thank you for telling me,” I continue, feeling a little more confident. “If that means you trust me, that makes me happy.”
Chapter 12
REED
Mostpeoplereactpolitelywhen I tell them about my addiction, but often they immediately start pulling away. Dylan’s reaction throws me for a bit of a loop. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the information.
From what I can tell, Dylan is an incredible person. He’s accomplished a whole fuck of a lot, owning a successful business and a home, and has what seems to be a close relationship with a loving family. Sounds like a major fucking success as far as I’m concerned. And he’s built that life while operating in a society that doesn’t understand people who think differently or who process information in a different way.