“I’m great, Case. I’m sorry I’ve been hard to track down. I’ve been a little, uh, preoccupied the last couple of months.”
“Mm-hm. Well, my friend, you’d better have a good excuse.” He huffs as if taking great offense. “What have you been keeping from me, Dr. Reed Morrow?” he asks in a disgruntled tone.
I enlighten him with the whole story. He’s as surprised as I was when I tell him Dylan is the same guy who sent the ER staff a big gift basket after his brother got hurt. I’d mentioned him back then because I thought he was so hot. But Case and I haven’t talked about him since.
When I get through the story of Friday morning and how Dylan was so angry even after we’d spent the night snuggled up together in bed, Case blows out a long breath.
“Wow, man, that is a lot. I’m no expert, but from what I understand, autism affects everyone differently, right?”
“Yeah, there are a few commonalities. I think most autistics experience some issues with communication, but overall, it’s pretty individual.”
“Right. Communication,” Case muses. “You were offering support for something that makes him really stressed and probably is embarrassing for him, right? And he wouldn’t let you. Refused to even talk about it at all?”
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I want to help him, you know? But what if he won’t, or can’t, accept help?”
“Well, it sounds to me like you may be getting a taste of your own medicine,” Case says. His words are harsh, but there’s no anger behind them. “Never letting anyone get close enough to care about you, pushing anyone away who even tries, not accepting it when people offer help? Don’t you think that sounds a lot like the way you’ve been living for the last, oh I don’t know, twenty-ish years?”
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “You know, Dylan’s the first person I’ve let really get close since you wormed your way into my life twenty-five years ago.”
Case snorts. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think that’s something to be proud of.”
“I know. But I’ve been thinking about that. Having Dylan treat me like this, shoving me back when I take a step too close to him, feels weirdly familiar. I think because I’ve recognized it as what I’ve been doing to your family for years.”
Case is quiet for a moment, and his voice sounds croaky when he speaks.
“Dude, does this mean you’re going to actually be part of our family now instead of making us beg and plead for little scraps of you?”
Suddenly, I’m struggling not to cry.
Case continues. “You know my parents love you as much as they love me, right? I mean, seriously—I hope we’re never in a scenario where they have to choose between us because I do not like my odds.”
We both chuckle. “I know, man. I love them too. It’s just… I think I’m shit at showing it and shit at accepting it.”
“You’ve got some thick walls built around you, Reed. I mean, I know why they’re there; it makes sense with your history. But that was a long time ago, and your walls are still standing up, keeping everyone out.”
Case has given me variations on this spiel several times over the years. But it feels like this is the first time I’ve ever really heard it and understood what he’s getting at.
“I think you have to decide to either let someone get behind the walls or take them down altogether. Because they’re so strong, no one’s ever going to break through to you from the outside.” Case snorts, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or embarrassed. “Fuck, man, that may be the sappiest thing that’s ever come out of my damn mouth. I feel like I need to brush my teeth,” he jokes.
“I know. I hear you, Case. I think I understand what you’re saying for the first time. Maybe I get it now,” I say quietly, and I can almost hear Case’s grin come through the phone.
“Thank god.” There’s laughter in his voice, but because I know him so well, I can hear the emotion underneath. “Hell, Reed, this guy really must be something if he managed to get you to have all these revelations so quick.”
“He really is.” I smile, thinking about Dylan. “It’s just scary, you know? What if I go after him, try to stop him from pushing me back, and he pushes me out anyway? I’m worried what I might do if I get a serious case of broken heart.”
“You mean, you’re worried about having a relapse?”
“Yeah. I haven’t let anyone have that kind of power over my emotions in more than twenty years. I know I’ve got so many years of sobriety, but I’ve also been careful not to let myself get hurt. I don’t know how I’ll handle it if everything goes off the rails.”
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Case is just about as direct as Dylan sometimes.
“I’m pretty sure I am… Yeah, I am… definitely.”
He chuckles. “So, tell him that. Tell him you’re worried about handing him this much power over you. He sounds like a pretty honest guy. If he’s not able to handle that, I think he’ll tell you. But give him a chance.”
“Yeah. You think?” I ask hesitantly.
“Reed, you’ve been playing it safe for so long. Unreasonably long now. You’re in your forties. I worry you’re going to spend the next forty years in the same spot. I mean, if that makes you happy, that’s fine, but I think you know you’re missing out.”