As Tears Go By (8 page)

* * * *

Over
the following two weeks Braydon seemed to take the hint that she wasn’t
interested and left her alone. It wasn’t until one Friday morning that he leapt
right back into the forefront of her memory. There was an envelope on her desk
with Nikki’s scribble on the front.

Didn’t know what you wanted to do with this…

Becca
peeled the envelope open and found Braydon’s ID. Jeez, even his driver’s
license picture was pretty.
So not fair!

She
stashed the envelope in her purse to deal with later, which was where it stayed
for another week. Sure, she thought of him, but with every manifestation in her
mind, she banished his memory to the back of her head—over and over again.

The
following Wednesday while doing bills, she found the envelope. Frustrated that
this man’s presence was still haunting her, she copied his address onto a fresh
envelope, sealed it, and shoved it in with the rest of her bills.

Feeling
vindicated and free of the temptation he caused once and for all, she submerged
herself in typical routines hoping to reinstate some much-needed balance to her
life. She spent the following days organizing the house, purging things she no
longer used, and boxing up the items Kevin left behind, which was quite
irritating. How difficult was it to
move out
?

Becca
was running the vacuum while Hunter pounded away on the upright to the tune of
She’s
a Rainbow.
She hadn’t heard the knock at the door and was completely
unprepared when she heard a deep, muffled voice call her name.

“Becca?”

Frowning,
she shut off the vacuum and rushed to the hall, coming up short when she saw
Braydon’s face pressed against the glass, yellow roses at his hip.

What
the heck was he doing there? She undid the locks and yanked the door open.

He
smiled. “Hey.”

Her
brain wasn’t working nor were her eyes blinking. So taken off guard, when she
finally spoke her voice rushed out in a waspish tone she never used before.
“What the heck are you doing here?”

He
grinned, his invariable pleasantness grating on her. “I brought you flowers.”

“How do
you know where I live?”

“Your
address was on the envelope you used to mail my ID.”

She
shook her head. Who popped over to someone’s house without ever being invited?
The ID was meant to break their personal connection. “I was returning it to
you, not inviting you over!”

His
smile faded, but not as much as it should have. “What are you listening to? Is
that The Stones?”

She
quickly shoved him out the door with a forward motion and shut it behind them.
“You can’t come by like this, Braydon.”

He took
a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just…missed you.”

Frustrated,
she folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t even know me!”

“I want
to.”

She’d
gone from being thoroughly ignored by a husband of ten years to being stalked by
a gorgeous, stage-five clinger that couldn’t take a hint. “You have to leave.”
The piano abruptly cut off. “Now.”

“Is
someone here with you?”

“Braydon,
I’m not kidding. This is my home. I take my privacy very seriously. It’s
completely unprofessional for you to burst in here and start asking questions.”

His
brow knit and guilt for her harsh tone tickled her conscience. Unexpected
guests had a way of hijacking her son’s contented mood and she really didn’t
want this unplanned visit to ruin an otherwise peaceful Saturday. She also
didn’t have the time to explain all of that to Braydon. She didn’t want to be
nasty, but mean seemed the only thing that got through to him. Everything
wasn’t a joking matter.

Hurting
others was never easy for her, and when rejection showed in his crestfallen
eyes, she instinctively wanted to apologize. He dropped the flowers on the
steps of the porch. “You should probably put them in water.”

When he
turned away she winced, an apology for being so crass on her lips.

The
door opened. “Mom? I’m hungry.”

She
shut her eyes, as her solitude was irrevocably disturbed. There was no way
Hunter would miss Braydon’s presence. It had nothing to do with who her son was
as a person and everything to do with protecting him. Despite their history,
she didn’t know Braydon well enough to gage how he’d respond to her son.

Braydon
turned, as the reason for her reluctance was laid bare. “You have a son?”

She
never considered dating, because she never wanted Hunter to get attached to
someone that wouldn’t stick around. There were simply too many jerks out there
and her son was extremely sensitive, whether others realized it or not. It was
an easy sacrifice to make if it protected him.

She
twisted and faced Hunter. “Why don’t you have a banana, buddy? And when I come
inside in
two minutes
, I’ll make lunch.”

Hunter
rubbed his ear on his shoulder and worked his jaw as he studied Braydon from
the corner of his eye. His wrist twisted as his fingers tightened. He was
stimming—self-stimulating—which usually meant he was experiencing anxiety,
fear, or anger, but it could also be his way of blocking out the distractions
overwhelming him. Most likely he was anxious since a man he’d never seen before
was standing on their porch.

Panicking
that Braydon might ask something hurtful, her entire being tensed in
preparation. If he crossed a line, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold it
together. It wouldn’t be the first time a stranger pointed and rudely asked
what was wrong with her son. Constant persecution and memories of Hunter’s
feelings getting hurt threw her into Momma Bear mode.

“Hunter,
go wait for me in the kitchen. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

“One
twenty.”

“Yes.”

The
door closed and she faced Braydon. His brow was drawn with confusion. “I didn’t
know you had children. I saw a picture in your office, but I just assumed it
was a nephew or relative.”

“Hunter’s
my only child.”

“How
old is he?”

Very
aware of the time ticking by, she quickly answered, “He’s eight and I need to
go be his mother right now.”

He took
a step forward. “Can we go out sometime? Does your ex take him on the weekends
or something?”

A
humorless laugh slipped out, because, of course, he only wanted that part of
her, not the part including her child. It was foolish of her to have led him to
believe one was separate from the other.
 

That
was exactly what she’d tried explaining to Nikki about men not wanting to date
a woman with a situation as complicated as hers. “That’s not going to work
either, Braydon. On the days I’m by myself I’m usually so whipped I can barely
hold my head up straight. I need that time to recuperate. I think you should
find someone else. I’m sorry.” She needed to go inside. No matter how logical
her words were, her heart grew heavy with sorrow and longing that there wasn’t more
she could offer. She really did like him, but her time was already pledged to
her son.

Regretfully,
she hung her head and said, “I have to go.”

Scooping
up the flowers, she shut the door behind her, pressing her back into the glass.
No one had brought her flowers…ever. It was a shame she couldn’t be happier
about them.

Chapter Four

Braydon
sipped his beer and stared at the bottles along the mirrored wall in front of
him. Becca had a son. A son who obviously had special needs. Funny, there was
no way he could have known that, but he kept beating himself up as though he
should have.

Recalling
every encounter, he made sure he hadn’t been a moron and somehow missed the
moment she mentioned having a child. Nope. She hadn’t mentioned it.

Of
course, that was probably because she’d never intended to see him again, and
when their paths crossed she’d done nothing but make it perfectly clear how
disinterested she was in pursuing a relationship. Her inexplicable reluctance
to date suddenly made sense.

Problem
was, Bray had done nothing but fantasize about the perfect woman who’d been in
his bed and left all too soon. Realizing now her life was far from perfect, he
also acknowledged he knew nothing about special needs kids.

His
sister in law, Sammy, sometimes taught students that needed a little extra
attention and Bray could recall a kid from grade school that had seizures, but
that was the extent of his knowledge on the subject. His ignorance made him
feel like even more of a jerk.

How
could he be so incredibly naïve in this day and age? Reaching in his pocket, he
pulled out his phone and connected to the bar’s Wi-Fi. Opening up the Internet,
he searched,
Special Needs Children,
which entered him into an
overwhelming world of blurbs and articles on everything from peanut allergies
to cerebral palsy. How was he supposed to know what each condition looked like?

He
typed in,
What
does special needs look like?
And came across images of everything from kids in wheelchairs to kids that
looked just like his nieces and nephews.

“Shit.”
This was getting him nowhere.

Tossing
a twenty on the counter, he finished his beer and left. When he got back to his
apartment he called his oldest brother. “Hey, Colin.”

“Hey,
Bray.
You coming home this weekend?
It’s been a
while.”

Braydon
collapsed on his couch. “I’ve been busy with a new deal our firm’s handling.
Probably won’t be home for a while still. How’re the kids?”

“Kids
are good. Sammy’s still not ready to try for another one yet. I’m okay with
that. You’ll never guess who is expecting though.”

Family
news was always a welcome distraction. “Who? Mallory can’t be pregnant again.”

“Not
Mallory.”

“Ash?”

“Nope,
Ashlynn’s not either.”

He
thought for a minute. “Do not say Kate.” His eldest sister already had five
kids. She should be done. “Oh my God, Shei-devil?”

“Wrong
again.” That was a little disappointing since Sheilagh and Alec had been
trying, but their situation was complicated.

“Who
then?”

Colin
laughed. “Luke.”

“Wait,
what?” Luke was his older brother. He was married, sort of, but his spouse’s
name was Tristan. “How is that possible?”

“They’ve
been talking about it for a while. I hooked them up with a few agencies that
help place abandoned babies. It’s sort of a spur of the moment situation that
only crops up so often. But they should be getting approved any day now.”

“That’s
nuts! Are they ready to have a baby?”

“Tristan
definitely is. Luke’s more worried about being physically prepared. He’s
putting an addition on the back of the barn and Mom and Dad’s garage is full of
all sorts of crap they’ve been buying. I think he’ll be fine once he feels in
control.” Colin laughed. “Like any parent has control. It should be fun to
watch.”

“How
likely is it they’ll get a call?”

“Don’t
know. Guess it depends when their son or daughter’s born and how soon the
agency approves their application.”

Braydon
whistled, loving Colin’s positive attitude. “It’s like baby roulette.”

“I’m
happy for them. I think they’ll be great fathers.”

“Speaking
of kids, is Sammy around?”

“Yeah.
You wanna talk to her?”

“If you
don’t mind. I have a question for her about…a friend’s kid. Since she’s a
teacher and all…”

“Sure.
Hold on.
Samantha! Bray’s on the phone!”

Bray
chuckled. “Hey, Col.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember
when you used to be the quiet one?”

Colin
laughed. “A lot’s changed. Here she is.”

Braydon
waited as Colin handed over the phone and Sammy gave him instructions on making
sure Lula, their eldest, brushed her teeth properly.

“Hey,
Bray.”

“Hey,
beautiful. I got a question for you.”

“Shoot.
You just saved my butt from bath time with the hooligans. I’ll tell you
whatever you want.”

“I met
this woman.”

“Oooooh.”

He
rolled his eyes. “Settle yourself. Anyway, she has a son.”

“Really?
Interesting.”

“He’s…
Why is that interesting?”

“Oh,
come on, Bray. We all know how you cling to perfection. It’s fun when life
throws curveballs—especially to you.”

“Well,
God definitely pegged me in the head with one today.”

“It’s a
kid, Braydon, not a nuke.”

“I
know, but her situation’s a little different.”

“Different
how?”

“God, I
don’t want to say this wrong. I think her son’s…special?”

“Special
like you like him a lot or special like he has an IEP?”

“What
would a kid be doing with a bomb?”

“Not an
IED, you ass. An IE
P.
An Individualized Education Program.”

“Oh, he
probably has one of those. He looks somewhere between eight and ten.”

“What
disability is he living with?”

“That’s
why I’m calling. I don’t know.”

“Did
you ask?”

“I
can’t ask that!”

“Why
not? If you’re interested in this woman and this is her son, she’s aware he’s
different. If you like her, you better get comfortable with his
dissimilarities, Bray. If it makes you uncomfortable, back out now. Single moms
don’t have time for games. Single moms of children with special needs have
less.”

He
frowned. He wasn’t an asshole. “I’m not a jerk, Sammy.”

“I know
you’re not, but I also remember what it was to be your girlfriend. You can be
very self-involved and you weren’t always there when I needed you.”

Ouch.
“I was a kid, Sam. I’m thirty years old now.”

“And I
hope you’ve grown up, especially if you’re thinking about dating a woman with a
child. Take away the unique technicalities for a minute. Kids
are loving
little beings and they get attached. You need to
go into this fully aware of what you’re agreeing to.”

He
sighed. This was getting way more complicated than he anticipated. “I haven’t
done anything yet.” Not really. “But I like her. A lot. I just need to
understand her situation better.”

“Well,
what’s her son like?”

“He
looks normal.”

Sam
huffed. “Keep away from that term. No kid is one hundred percent normal. Lula
won’t stop eating her boogers, and one of Finn’s boys pooped in the lake this
summer and proceeded to use the turd as a battleship.”

Bray
laughed. “You mean a battle
shit
.”

“Whatever.
My point is, no parent likes that term, especially when their kid doesn’t fit
society’s definition. Describe what you saw and maybe I can help.”

“Well,
I only saw him for a minute. At first I didn’t notice anything out of the
ordinary, but then he started, like, twitching.”

“Like
tics or stimming?”

“Uh, I
don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

“A tic
could be Tourette’s, you know, when people have outbursts with curses, but
verbal tics are less common than physical tics. They’re sort of like tiny
flinches.”

“What’s
the other thing you said?”

“Stimming.
That’s different. Stimming’s a behavior that calms or is intended to calm. It’s
triggered. A lot of children with autism stim, but it usually
fades
as they get older and learn more self-control.”

“
What’s it look
like?”

“Depends.
We all stim.
It can be as simple as twirling hair or
biting nails. It’s just a form of self-comforting. When autistic people do it,
it can be anything from flapping their arms to punching themselves.”

“Punching
themselves?”

Sammy
sighed. “Yeah. It’s a complicated neurological disorder and no case is alike.
Did your girlfriend’s son flap?”

“Not
really. He sort of twitched and moved his jaw. His head rotated like he was
cracking his neck and his hands contorted. I don’t think he liked me.”

Sammy
laughed. “Sorry. No. If this boy’s autistic or is on that continuum, he hasn’t
formed an opinion about you yet. He’s still trying to digest what you are and
why you’re in his environment. A major reason they react differently to the
world is because their perception’s completely dissimilar from ours. Their
processing’s out of synch. While we see a man standing in front of us, a child
with autism sees the buttons on his shirt glistening in the sun. He could be
distracted by the scent of his cologne or the sound of the wind in the trees.
Every new situation’s overwhelming. Plop a stranger in the midst of an
otherwise ordinary day and their brains go on overload.”

He
was on overload. Everything
Sammy explained was probably why Becca was so pissed he’d swung by unannounced.
Shit. “How do I know if her son’s autistic?”

“The
laziness stops now if you intend to continue with this woman, Braydon. Go to a
computer and type in autism. You’ll figure it out.”

“Why
are you being nasty?”

Sam
huffed. “I’m not. I just don’t want to see you hurt this woman or her child.”

He
deflated. In a low voice he asked, “Was I really that terrible of a boyfriend?”

She
sighed. “No, you weren’t. But you always seemed to be the last to know what was
actually going on with
me.
What are their names?”

“Her
name’s Becca and I think her son’s name is Hunter or it could be Buddy.”

“Okay,
well let me put it to you this way. If you date her, it can’t be
The Braydon
Show
. It’s probably never
The Becca Show
. Her life is that child.
Every minute of her day’s tuned to
his
channel. So you either have to be
willing to sit through a lot of uncomfortable episodes or go back to the
premium channels you’re used to.”

“Okay.”

“You
can’t go running off for boat rides and expect them just to pack a lunch and
join you without a—”

“I get
it, Sam. You can stop pointing out all my flaws now.”

She was
silent for a second. “You know I love you.”

“I
know. I love you too. I just…I’m tired of not being good enough.”

“You
are
good enough, Braydon. You just have to commit to always putting your best side
forward and don’t give up when things don’t go as
perfectly
as you
expected. Get rid of your unrealistic expectations and you might actually fall
in messy love. Trust me. It’s way better than fake picture-perfect love.”

“Thanks.
I’m gonna go look online.” Haunting insecurities from his past had him
hesitating. “Do you think I should forget about her?”

“If you
can’t handle it, then yeah, that’s probably best. But my money’s on you,
Braydon. There isn’t much you can’t handle. Put all that optimistic charm to
use and you may actually be just what this woman needs.”

“I’ll
let you know what happens. Thanks for talking to me.”

“Anytime.
And when are you coming home? We miss you.”

“Maybe
sometime next month. I miss you guys too. Tell everyone I said hi.”

When Bray
got off the phone he went to his office and powered up his laptop. An hour
later he was totally overwhelmed. Concerning autism, finite answers didn’t seem
to exist.

He
wound up perusing YouTube and watching documentaries. Then he came across home
videos of families living with autism. Shock wasn’t an adequate term for what
he was feeling.

What
looked like a normal temper tantrum, the kind that earned him and his brothers
a swift kick in the ass as kids, became so much more. The longer he watched,
the more he identified the internal struggle each child worked through.

Some
kids got so frustrated their faces flushed beet red, their little bodies
tensed, and their parents had to restrain them. He couldn’t imagine Becca
dealing with such combative behavior. Then he recalled the bruises on her and
everything started to make sense.