Knitting Under the Influence (20 page)

V

D
uring the weeks following Halloween, Sari felt like she had a devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other. The devil looked and sounded a lot like Lucy, and it said, “Keep things going with the guy, have some fun, make him fall in love with you, and then shatter his heart and his life into a million pieces.” And the angel, who looked a little like Ellen, but was dressed for some reason in Kathleen's responsible clothes, said, “Don't do it, Sari. For your own sake.”

She knew the angel was right, but it was the devil who intrigued her. Sometimes, when she said goodbye to Jason at the end of a session, she'd meet his eyes and see the pleading there and wonder what it would be like to give in to it and go out with him and follow the whole tangle through to the end—and then crush him. And sometimes she'd wonder what it would be like to follow it through to the end and
not
crush him. And that's when she would give herself a good mental shake and listen to the angel and keep herself well out of it.

There was one day when Jason was wearing a blue shirt that lightened the color of his eyes until you just wanted to stare at them forever. At the end of the session, he asked Sari if she had time to have a drink with him, and she had to struggle to say no.

That night, she ran home and got down her high school yearbook and made herself study it.

The page devoted to the Resource Room, a page on which Charlie appeared three times—once with a chef's hat on and a big smile, because they had been making cookies in class that day and Charlie loved cookies more than anything else in the world—left her throat and eyes aching with tears that wouldn't come all the way out.

After that, the pictures—page after page after page—of Jason Smith on every sports team, a smirk of athletic superiority and social dominance always on his face, successfully rekindled her anger and her determination not to be swayed by a pair of blue eyes.

Back at the clinic, it was once again easy to tell him no when he asked her out and it stayed easy—no, she didn't want to have coffee, no, she wasn't interested in seeing a movie, no, she was rushing off after this session, no, she was busy, no, she had work to do, no, she had other plans …

At some point, he'd have to give up, she figured. But she also knew that the one blue-eyed day she had hesitated before saying no had given Jason Smith reason to think that maybe there was hope. He took her reluctance as a challenge, and, instead of giving up, he tried harder.

She couldn't have strung him along any better if she'd been trying.

She could guess what he thought—that it was their professional relationship that made her pull back, that she was worried she was breaking some kind of unwritten (or maybe even written) clinic law. He probably assumed things would have been different if they'd met at a party instead of as client and professional. He probably told himself stories of people who overcame an awkward business situation to find love and romance together. The thrill of the chase probably made it all the more interesting to him. He was that kind of guy.

And meanwhile there was Zack, who was improving almost daily; Zack with the crooked grin who would one day stare at Sari uncomprehendingly when she tried to teach him to say, “I want a cookie,” and who would two days later come walking up to her and point to the cookie jar and say, “Want cookie,” as if he had always said it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to utter a two-word sentence; Zack, who now crawled into her lap the second she picked out a book to show him, who grabbed her hand when she arrived at his house and pulled her outside where he would say, “Ball?” and then walk her over to the basketball court; Zack, who was calm almost all the time now, who hardly ever screamed anymore, who learned by leaps and bounds and with whom she found herself more in love every day.

With
him,
at least, her relationship was uncomplicated and satisfying.

6

casting off

I

T
he next week, Jason asked Sari if she could stay after Zack's session that coming Friday and have dinner at their house. “Denise wants to meet you, and she's free that evening.”

The problem with being as confused as Sari was about everything having to do with the Smith family was that she didn't even know anymore what her normal response would be to something like that. If any other father had said to her that she should stay for dinner to meet the child's mother whom she had never met before and who really should be given a chance to consult with her… would she feel obliged to say yes? Or would she have every right to say no?

When feelings of anger and desire and revenge and attraction
didn't
get in the way of a decision like that, then what would the decision be?

It was paralyzing, this confusion.

Jason misinterpreted her hesitation. Or, quite possibly, he interpreted it correctly. “You don't have to worry about being alone with me,” he said with a tight smile. “Denise and Maria and Zack will all be there. You won't even have to talk to me if you don't want to.”

“It's not that,” she said. “I was just trying to remember if I had plans that night.”

“Do you?”

“I don't think so.” She made up her mind. “I’ll stay.”

His face lit up, but all he said was, “Denise will be pleased.”

Denise was late. They waited for her from five-thirty until almost seven. She called four times to say she was just about out the door. After the fourth call, Jason offered Sari a drink. Sari declined—as she had the previous two times he'd offered—but he continued to have better luck with himself and filled his own glass for the third time.

So he was definitely a little drunk by the time Denise finally made her appearance at the house with a bang of the front door and an entrance into the living room that included a cheery, “Hello! Here I am!”

Sari rose to her feet, but Jason didn't get up, just raised his glass in a brief salute and said, “Welcome.”

“I’m so sorry I kept you guys waiting,” Denise said.

“No, it was good,” he said. “Gave me time to work on my show pitch. Want to hear it?”

She was still smiling brightly. “Jason—”

“No, no, it's great. Listen. An attractive young therapist moves in with an autistic kid and his family, and hilarity ensues. I mean it just
ensues.”

“Ha,” Denise said. “I’ll suggest it to the network.” She strode forward to greet Sari. “Sari Hill. I can't tell you how excited I am to finally meet you. Zack has
blossomed
since you started working with him. It's beyond incredible.” She took Sari's hand and squeezed it warmly. “I can't ever thank you enough. There
are
no words.”

She had long blond hair, a perfectly toned body, and cheekbones you could trip over. She was dressed in a sleeveless silk top and a pair of carefully tailored black pants that showed off her tight ass and toned legs.

“So,” she said as she released Sari's hand and looked around.

“Where is my little Zacky, anyway?”

“That's a kind of chicken,” Jason said. He hadn't gotten up from the chair he'd been sitting on when she arrived—had, in fact, slumped even deeper into it.

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Zacky Farms. They make chickens. He's with Maria having dinner in the kitchen.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll go say hi in a sec. Do I get a glass of wine, too?”

“The bottle's over there,” he said, indicating the wet bar.

“Lovely,” she said. Sari couldn't tell if she were being sarcastic or not. “Sari, would you join me in a glass of wine?”

“No, thanks.”

“What about dinner?” Denise walked over to the wet bar, slid a glass out of the hanging rack, and poured wine with the ease of someone who knew where everything was. “I’m starving. What's the plan?”

“Ah,” Jason said. “Here's the thing about dinner. We were waiting for you to order. You were late. Therefore, we have not yet ordered.”

“Have you at least offered our guest something to eat while she's been waiting?”

“No, because you kept saying you'd be here any minute.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Denise said, swiveling back to Sari.

“You must be starved. I am so sorry. I had just assumed you'd go ahead and start eating without me. If I had known—”

“I’m fine,” Sari said. “Really. I was sharing Zack's M&M’s with him all afternoon and almost made myself sick on them. Job hazard, you know.”

“ ‘Job hazard’?” Denise repeated, raising the wineglass to her lips.

“She uses candy as a reward,” Jason said. “Which you would know if you had ever come to see her work with him.”

“It's not that I’m always shoving candy at him,” Sari said to Denise. “I don't want you to think that he's like a dog, getting a treat with every trick or anything like that. Most things he does, the reinforcement comes naturally, like if he wants to go outside and he says, ‘out,’ and then I take him outside. But the M&M’s come in handy for a lot of games and working on color names and stuff like that. Everyone likes candy!” She was talking too much, the way she always did when she got nervous.

“I see,” Denise said politely.

Sari felt like an idiot.

“Here, Denise,” Jason said. “Let me put it in terms you'll understand. Say your assistant does a really good job of lying for you when you don't want to talk to someone on the phone. You don't scream at him for five whole minutes and he gets the idea that he's been a good boy and should do lots more lying in the future. That's called positive reinforcement.”

“Jason's going to give you the wrong impression of me,” Denise said to Sari with a good-natured laugh. “I’m actually a pretty decent boss.”

“Oh, of course,” Sari said. Then: “I’m really so glad we're getting a chance to meet and talk about Zack's progress.”

“Are you kidding?” Denise said. “I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I’ve been dying to learn more about how you do what you do.”

“Sure, you have,” Jason said. “That explains your constant presence at Zack's sessions.”

Denise pivoted on her heel so she was facing him. “I
work
in the afternoons.” She smiled at him. “So you don't have to, I might add.”

“You might and you did,” he said. “So what should we order for dinner? I seem to be already eating shit, but I’m open to a change of menu.”

Denise turned back to Sari and took her arm. She lowered her voice. “I’m sure you realize that Jason's just trying to be funny. Sometimes drinking affects his judgment a little bit, and he's not always aware of how he sounds.” Then, in her normal voice: “I just want you to know that we couldn't be more dedicated to pulling together as a team to make things right for Zack. That's priority number one for both of us.”

“Oh, of course,” Sari said. “And I want—” She was interrupted by a few bars of “Fur Elise.”

“Excuse me one moment,” Denise said, dropping Sari's arm so she could slip a tiny cell phone out of the slim Prada handbag she had left on the bar. She put it to her ear as she took another sip of wine. “Denise Cotton,” she said.

Sari drifted a few steps back.

From the depths of his chair, Jason said, “She went back to her maiden name. For a few glorious years she was actually Denise Smith.”

Sari didn't say anything to that.

“Oh,
damn,”
Denise said. She flipped her phone shut and slid it back into her purse. “You won't believe this. I drove all the way here just to get to spend a few minutes with you, Sari, and I told everyone who works for me that I couldn't be bothered for anything short of an emergency. So of course one came up. There's been a total breakdown on one of the sets—it's a complete mess and they need me there to straighten it out.” She took a sip of wine and set the glass back on the counter. “I can't believe how frustrating this is! To finally get to meet you and then not have time to talk about Zack.”

“It's nice to put a face to the name at least,” Sari said.

Denise shone a brilliant smile in her direction.
“Exactly
what I was thinking. And I know we'll get together again soon.” She slung her purse on her shoulder. “I hope you don't mind, but I feel like I have to hug you. You're just so wonderful.” She put her arms around Sari and kissed her lightly on each cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. And we're going to reschedule this ASAP.”

“Great,” Sari said, and Denise squeezed her hard again before releasing her.

“Goodbye, Jason,” she said and turned to go.

“Hold on.” He rose to his feet for the first time since her arrival. “You're going to at least say hi to Zack before you leave, aren't you?”

She glanced at her watch and then said, “Better not. I don't want to upset him by saying hi and then having to leave right away.”

“You haven't seen him in days.”

“And I miss him,” she said. “More than you can possibly imagine.”

“It's hard to imagine you miss him at all when you won't bother walking into the next room to see him.”

“You're not getting it,” she said. “It's hard for both of us if I see him and then have to immediately walk out on him again.”

“So don't walk out.”

“I wish it were that simple. Do you think it's easy for me to have to drop in on my own child? But I’ve got to support him—and all this—” She gestured at the house around them. “Believe me, I would love the luxury of being able to sit around the house all day with my kid—”

“You would hate it,” Jason said. “You never wanted that.”

“I’ve wanted it,” she said. “But I’m not the type to sit around whining for something that's not going to happen.”

“What type
are
you?” he said.

“The type who understands that we need a lot of money to help Zack.” She gestured in Sari's direction. “How long do you think we could hire people like Sari—wonderful, talented people like Sari—if I stopped working? How about Maria and all the freedom she gives you? You ready to give that up, Jason?”

“I’m not asking you to quit your fucking job,” Jason said. He stood there in the middle of the room, his body tense but still. “I just thought you might want to say hi to your son.”

“If I had more time, there's nothing in the world I’d rather do.” She turned to go.

“You never have more time,” he said from behind her back.

She twisted to look at him over her shoulder. “I do what I do because I know it's the best way for me to help Zack.”

“Come on,” he said. “When were you ever going to make any other choice?”

“I’ve never had the chance to find out,” she said. “I’ve always had to support this family since you never could.”

“Ah,” said Jason. “Back to that one.”

Denise turned to Sari. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We're still working things out.”

“It's okay,” Sari said. “I know how hard it can be—”

“I’m sure you do,” Denise said. “Please excuse me now, Sari. I’ll be looking forward to the next time we get together.” She left the room, and, a second later, the front door slammed.

There was a moment of silence, and then Jason forced a little painful laugh. “There she goes,” he said. “The former Mrs. Jason Smith.”

“It's tough on a marriage.” Sari was well aware how lame she sounded. “Having a kid with special needs.”

“Oh, we were doomed long before Zack came along,” Jason said. “I’ve been almost as much of a disappointment to Denise as I’ve been to my father. They've had some fine conversations about what a failure I am.” Sari didn't know what to say to this. After another moment, Jason said, “Of course, she's right about most of it. She does have to support us. And therapy doesn't come cheap.”

“She still should have said hi to Zack,” Sari said.

Jason's head snapped up. “Really?” he said eagerly.

“Of course.” She searched for the right way to put it. “I mean, even if it was frustrating for both of them to say hi and bye quickly—even so, she should have
wanted
to so badly she couldn't help herself. I think—” She stopped, realizing she was getting into territory that was none of her business.

“I watch
you
with him sometimes,” Jason said when she didn't go on. “When you're in the backyard, I’ll look out the window, see you with him, and it's hard to
stop
watching. You're always so in the moment with him. Laughing and playing, like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than with my kid. I was always waiting for Denise to look like that when she was with him. I never saw it. I thought maybe it was because of who Zack is, because he never responded to her the way she wanted him to, but I think it's because of who
she
is. I’m not convinced it would have been any different if he'd been normal.”

There was a pause. “So you've been spying on me,” Sari said.

He smiled. “Observing you for purely clinical reasons,” he said. “Nothing stalkerish about it. I swear.”

“So I should hold off on the restraining order?”

“At least let me do something to earn it.”

Another pause, and then Sari said, “I should go.”