Ms. Liu tells me he’s struggling. On Monday, she called to encourage me to sign him up for this program called Butterfly Buddies. It sounds like Big Brothers, Big Sisters but specifically for kids on the autism spectrum. She thinks he’s lonely, and I know she’s right. It’s never been easy for him to connect with people, and inside he’s a mess of emotions he doesn’t know how to process.
These people work miracles, she said, and it took everything I had not to say, Oh, yeah? Can they give him his father back? Because that would be a true miracle. But none of this is her fault, so I didn’t, of course. I didn’t give her an answer either, because…well, the idea of sending Aidan off with a stranger gives me hives. What if he hates his buddy? What if they’re a kidnapper? What if they’re a weirdo, or they steal Aidan’s social security number?
My sisters would tell me I’m going to be carried away on a river of what-ifs.
Ms. Liu did assure me that there’s a strenuous vetting system. Maybe it’s time to take a chance. Aidan needs something, and as much as it kills me, I’m clearly not giving it to him.
I don’t regret bringing my son here, though. Glenn doesn’t even live in Charlotte anymore, and although his parents do, and they’re great, I wanted to be closer to my family. Being near my sisters is good for both of us, and I’ve arranged for Aidan to spend every other weekend with his paternal grandparents for a dose of normalcy. That’s all we need, really—a new normal. Once we find it, everything else will fall into place.
A hateful little voice in the back of my head asks, What if this is your new normal?
Thankfully, we get home without any more mishaps, and after we get the tree set up in its stand and go through our nightly routine, I sit at my laptop with a glass of wine, and I email Glenn for the first time in weeks. Not for my own sake. I don’t want him anymore, if I ever really did.
It’s an entreaty for him to be a father to his son, or at least someone to his son.
If I had a Christmas wish, that would be it, but I know deep in my heart that, like the dozens of other messages I’ve sent, it’ll go unanswered.
Also by A.R. Casella and Denise Grover Swank
Asheville Brewing
Any Luck at All
Better Luck Next Time
Getting Lucky
Bad Luck Club
Luck of the Draw
All the Luck You Need
(Available in the ARC/DGS newsletter
for a limited time)
Bad Luck Club
Love at First Hate
Jingle Bell Hell
October 2021
About the Author
A.R. CASELLA has the distinct pleasure of writing romcoms with Denise Grover Swank. The Bad Luck Club is their second co-written series; Asheville Brewing is the first. She lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, daughter, and two geriatric dogs. Her hobbies include herding her daughter toward less dangerous activities, stress baking, and marathon watching TV shows.
You can find out more at www.arcdgs.com.
About the Author
Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomad, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
You can find out more at denisegroverswank.com