Claire LaZebnik - Knitting Under the Influence

“Jason Smith,” the father said, putting out his own hand in greeting.

The name and the face came together and she realized she knew him.

It was too late, though. She was already shaking his hand.

It hit him at the same moment, ‘“wait,” he said as their hands clasped. “That name. Sari Hill. Why does that sound so familiar?”

“High school,” Sari said. She withdrew her hand. “We went to high school together.”

“Oh, man,” he said with delight. “Of course! That's it! Sari Hill. I totally remember your name from attendance. Wow. What a weird coincidence.”

“Yeah.” She could have passed him a hundred times in the street and not recognized him, but, looking at him now, she thought he hadn't really changed all that much. He had been an athlete in high school, and he still looked fit but not beefy. His hair was still thick, but his face had gotten thinner, so the lines of his cheekbones and the slant of his jaw stood out more than they used to.

He was still just as handsome as he had been in the days when girls used to fall over themselves trying to sit near him in English class.

“So,” Sari said. Her voice came out unusually high. She cleared her throat with a little cough. “Excuse me. A lot's changed for you since high school, I guess. Tell me about your little boy.”

Jason looked down at his son, who held his hand patiently, staring at the opposite wall, oblivious to their attention.

“Zack's my pal,” Jason Smith said. “He's the greatest little guy in the world. Only-” He stopped. “You know.”

“Does he have any words?” According to the eval, he didn't talk yet, but it was good to go over the information again, in case the parents had left anything out. Plus it was easier to keep asking questions than to try to process the fact that Jason Smith- Jason fucking Smith -was standing in front of her.

“No. I mean, sometimes he'll surprise us by counting or making an animal sound or something, but no real words. He once recited part of the alphabet, but then he never did it again.”

He's very cute.

He smiled. “I agree.”

“He looks like you.”

“So they tell me.”

Sari cleared her throat again. “How's his frustration tolerance? Any tantrums when he can't make his needs known?”

“He cries a lot,” Jason said. “But he never throws anything or hits anyone or anything like that.”

“Any self-injurious behaviors?”

“God, no,” he said.

“Go sit down over there.” She gestured to a chair in the far corner of the room. “See if he'll stay here with me.” She took Zack's hand while Jason did as he was told. Zack didn't protest, just let her lead him to the corner where the toys were kept in a big cabinet. She spent the rest of the hour trying to see which ones interested him and what kind of candy he liked. They kept all sorts of treats and playthings in the clinic, positive reinforcement of good behaviors being the foundation of their behavioral approach.

Jason had been accurate: Zack didn't have any words that Sari could get out of him in that first session, and the slightest frustration-like having to wait while she took turns with a toy- made him open his mouth and wail. But he liked candy, and there were a couple of noise-making toys that seemed to fascinate him, and both those things were encouraging-it was the kids who didn't respond to anything who were hardest to teach. Zack didn't once strike out at her, no matter how frustrated he got, and that was a relief. She had plenty of bruises and scratches from kids who did more than cry when they were upset.

“So,” Jason Smith said when she beckoned to him to come talk to her at the end of the hour. “What do you think? Can this boy be saved?”

“He's really smart,” Sari said. “And sweet. He'll learn fast.”

His face lit up. “That's great,” he said. “You have no idea how great it is to hear that. It's been-” He stopped and then said, “How often can we see you?”

“I don't know yet,” Sari said. “It's complicated.”

“Ellen said that we should really push forward, not waste any time. She said some kids do as much as forty hours a week and that you can make the most progress when they're young. She said-”

“I know what Ellen says.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know there must be thousands of people who want your time and it's probably impossible to take care of us all. It's just… I want so much for him.”

“I understand,” Sari said. “And we'll do the best we can for you. But-” She looked down at her hands. “You should be aware that it might not be me who works with Zack. It might be another therapist. Just so you know.”

“I hope it's you,” Jason Smith said. “You seem so good at this. I think Zack likes you already. And we go back such a long way together, you and I.” She looked up again to find him smiling at her. “I won't hesitate to play the old friends card if there's a chance it might help.”

“I’ll talk to Ellen,” Sari said. “We'll figure it out and get back to you before the end of the day.”

As they said goodbye, Jason leaned forward and gave Sari a quick kiss on the cheek. Maybe, Sari thought, that was what you were supposed to do when you met someone from high school ten years later. “Sari Hill,” he said with a shake of his head. “An honest-to-God miracle worker. Who'd have thought?”

Sari watched him take his son's hand and walk out the door with one last wave. She sank into a chair and let her head fall back.

Even hand in hand with a small child, Jason Smith swaggered when he walked, just like he used to swagger a million years ago in high school-when he and his friends ridiculed and tortured Charlie on a daily basis.

Sari tried to remember the details, but it was all pretty foggy. Funny how hard it was to remember the most painful periods of your life really clearly. Maybe there was a reason for that- maybe that way you protected yourself from reliving them.

Jason Smith was one of a bunch of faces, a bunch of names. They all blurred. Had he ever led the charge against Charlie? Been one of the ones who called him retard and shoved him against the wall? Or was he one of the kids who just stood there and laughed while shit like that went down? Looking at his face-handsome as it was-had made Sari want to throw up, so she knew he'd done at least that.

Some things your gut remembered better than your brain.

Someone had pulled Charlie's pants down during recess, in front of a circle of cheering students. Had that been Jason? By the time a friend had found Sari to tell her, and she'd gone running to help him, it was too late. There was a teacher already there, but he hadn't seen anything, and in the end no one got in trouble because no one would say who did it. It could have been Jason. Or one of his rich asshole friends. It almost didn't matter. Whether you were the one who did the deed or just the one who stood by-applauding-and let it happen-what was the difference, really?

Sari hugged her arms across her chest and rocked, feeling cold and hot at the same time.

All the girls had crushes on him. You'd walk into the bathroom and see his name in a heart with someone else's, or two girls would be sitting perched on the edge of the sinks, talking and smoking, and you'd hear his name over and over again. Even Sari couldn't not look at him when he was in the same room. He was that handsome.

He had kissed her on the cheek just now, had said that they were old friends, and she was supposed to-

She was supposed to help his kid. Sari was supposed to help his kid just because Zack had a neurological disorder, and because that's what she did. She helped kids with autism learn to talk and behave and overcome the symptoms of their disorder. No matter who their parents were.