Kat, like Alicia, did not appreciate real music. But unlike the girl, Kat expressed that with the sharpness of Cheryl’s tongue.
“This music sucks.” She said, folding her arms.
Serena rolled her eyes and switched it off. How did her parents deal with her? Or was this product of neglect? Before the silence grew unbearable, she filled it with small talk.
From Kat’s brief answers, as if she wanted to get this conversation over with, she learnt that her mother was a pet groomer and her father a software developer. Kat herself had a pet dog and pet plants.
She had never heard someone call a plant a pet before. Even in the village, the most passionate farmers referred to their crops as stocks.
“The village I came had stray dogs everywhere. They always came visiting my house through the back gate, and my mother always gave them our leftovers.”
“Aw!” Kat squealed.
The ice between them broke. They spent the whole trip exchanging adorable tales of their dogs, alongside fun trivia about their species. The knowledge Kat had about these canines made her the perfect vet.
“Wow, you know a lot about animals. You should become a vet in the future.” She complimented.
She drummed her fingers against her leg the way Alicia flapped her hands and said, “Cool.”
Kat looked out the window, “Sorry for being a bitch last time.”
“It’s—”
“But what you said was shitty.”
As if! Serena caught herself thinking, and calmed herself with her newfound life motto: listen. “How?”
“Autism is not nonsense, asshole. It’s who I am, and who Alicia is, well—I’m like 70% sure she’s autistic, we’ll see.”
“Oh, I see. I’m sorry. What makes you 70% sure? Alicia seems fine to me.” Even now, she still doubted all this autism stuff. Alicia, disabled? How could a mother believe that about her own child?
“Yeah, it’s called masking. We pretend to look fine, so people like you stop bitching about us being ourselves. Also, you don’t need to be brain-dead to be not fine. It just means we don’t need a maid to follow us around 24/7.”
“Right.” Her face grew hot as she recalled the million times she told Alicia to stop flapping her hands. She moved on before the shame evolved into self-loathing.
Upon question, Kat told the tale of her diagnosis. Catching it was the easy part, considering she spoke her first word at three years old. Handling it was the hard part. Her parents had to cycle through five asshole doctors, and go through countless fights over how to prepare her for primary school. That wasn’t even starting on the panic attacks her father had whenever she disappeared to inspect an interesting plant in the soil.
Things turned around when they got her a dog. Not even she could explain how a dog helped her talk. Her best guess was that she found giving him commands funny. Her parents noticed this, used the dog to bridge the gap between them, and the rest was history.
“Wow.” Serena was speechless. Whatever image she had left of Kat being the delinquent in the likes of Vinn flew out the window. Now, all she wanted was to meet the saints this girl had the fortune of calling her parents.
After parking the car, she got to. Kat led her to the house, but didn’t go in when her parents greeted them. She watered her plants first. The dog barked at her, baring teeth.
The dogs in the village were scarier than this little fry.
She stepped in with zero fear and shook Kat’s parents’ hands. They introduced themselves as Steph and Alex. Before she could introduce herself, Kat beat her to it. “This is Alicia’s mom. She gave me a ride back.”
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled. “Your house looks really nice.” She looked around, noticing the gigantic TV and the second floor. Cushy tech jobs were no joke.
They offered her a glass of water and chatted at the dining table. They congratulated her for getting Alicia back and thanked the girl for being a good friend. Serena did too with Kat, and she shared Alicia’s upcoming autism diagnosis.
They reacted as if she had got a promotion. “I hope it goes well. We’ll be happy to share what we have to help you, if you’d like!”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Oh no thanks—Well, actually… sure. I’d appreciate that.” They exchanged numbers. “Thank you.”
Thus, the sharing began. They exchanged stories about their daughters all night. For them, it was to exchange tips and tricks. For Serena, it was to clarify if Alicia’s oddities were indeed coming from autism.
One tip struck her: when Alicia’s having a meltdown, Do Not restrain her from stimming. Her face grew hot again as she recalled herself doing just that.
“We don’t know for sure,” they said. “Either way, they’re a part of who Alicia is.”
She thanked them for the water, accepted a parenting book, and promised to keep in contact. As she walked out the door, she shared a quick word about her bakery. They promised to spread the word and place an order.
Next week came in the blink of an eye, and demanded Serena do something she hadn’t done since Alicia was in primary school; fetching her from school.
The girl waved Kat and Minty goodbye and ran to the car with flapping hands. She looked forward to the new phone and laptop more than the diagnosis itself.
The clinic was a needle in a haystack of offices. Even Dr Ling’s clinic was more eye-catching than theirs with its banner. True to its name, this private clinic only had one discernable feature: its logo plastered on the glass door.
They rang the doorbell, and the receptionist invited them in. He handed them some forms and surveys to fill out. Sitting beside them by the waiting area was a young boy driving a toy car across every surface he could reach. He rolled across the cushions without a care in the world, and when he bumped into them, his father dragged the boy away and apologised.
An Indian woman whom everyone would picture when asked to imagine a therapist came out from a room, and lured the boy into it with a new toy car to begin his session of… whatever it was they did here. If Alicia was autistic, must she come here weekly? She couldn’t afford that.
Another Indian woman, looking like the first woman’s sister, brought them into a similar room with a glass of water a minute later.
The biggest difference between this and Dr Ling’s office was the size (the couches could seat five people) and the framed paintings on the wall. Alicia kept her gaze on them the entire session, as if trying to interpret them.
The session started. For half an hour, the woman asked them questions, and they answered. At the end, she requested they return for three more sessions. One, a parent interview to understand Alicia’s childhood. Two, an assessment for Alicia. Three, a diagnosis session to go through the report.
Serena’s payment covered all three of these sessions, thank god.
What Alicia flapped hands all week for came next. The new phone and laptop. The girl dragged her to the shops, running up and down the aisles until she found her dream model.
Nothing she or the salesman said could change the girl’s mind. Alicia held them like diamonds, her eyes glowing with pure joy as she placed them on the counter. Her passionate explanation on the features of these devices outperformed every salesman in the store.
They got back in the car and drove off for lunch before heading home. Alicia had the perfect spot; right around the corner. A taco place in its off-peak hours. Only two other customers shared the restaurant with them.
“I came here with Kat before!” She announced.
The waiter handed them menus, and Serena skimmed through it. Her first reaction was a blank stare. Meh. “Are tacos really that delicious? Isn’t the salsa really spicy?”
“Yes, and no.”
“Ok…” Serena ordered Alicia’s recommendation: grilled chicken tacos.
Next came the complimentary nacho chips. They served it with salsa, which looked like ketchup with more texture, and guacomole, vomited up salad. She opted for salsa. Alicia did too, and prolonged the crunch of her bite as long as possible.
Her hands and feet flailed about, imitating a fireworks show. She stuffed the rest of that chip in her face.
Serena still had doubts, until she took a bite. Her eyes shot wide. Alicia wasn’t exaggerating. The spice, in the perfect sweet spot. The crisp, as crispy as prawn crackers. Oh, my god. It sent her leaning back in her chair.
“Wow! This tastes amazing! How did you find this place?”
“I did a lot of research to find it!”
Serena gave a thumbs up.
The tacos came next, holding the same taste alongside the umami of chicken and sourness of lime. Perfection. They wolfed down their food, then ordered extra, then wolfed that down, then ordered extra again…
Serena soon lost track of how much they spent. It came to bite her when she got the bill. It hurt, but it was worth it. They rubbed their stomachs like pregnant women, feeling a phantom weight kicking at their intestines.
With a slight waddle, they got back to their car and drove back home.
“Can I learn to cook tacos? Pleeease…” Alicia begged.
Serena chuckled, “I have to learn it first, before I can teach you.”
“We can learn it together!”
“Okay, sure.”
“And after that, we will eat tacos for dinner forever!”
“What about wonton noodles?”
“Forever!” Alicia repeated in mock outrage.
“Okay, okay… Forever.”
Once she reached home, the food coma hit Serena faster than the awe she felt from Alicia’s new devices. For the first time she could remember, she woke up feeling well-rested.
The diagnosis session came a month later, and the woman broke the news over a glass of water: Alicia is autistic.