The Taciturn Truth

Chapter 1

I had just put on my PJs and was laying awake in my twin bed. I stared at the textured ceiling and thought about my visit to the doctor's office earlier that day. The room was cool and fluorescently lit. I sat on the tall bench in the small office, lined with crinkly paper. The doctor had just taken my height and weight and then compared it with other six-year-olds; 37th percentile, not too big, not too small, or so I was told.

After the routine checkup, the doctor tried to ask me a couple questions, but I don't talk to strangers. It makes me feel uncomfortable and unsafe. He asked my parents the questions instead. Their responses seemed to be unsettling to him. He shifted uncomfortably in his swivel chair. His tall athletic build shook a little, and he looked nervous and unsure what to do with me. He studied me as if I was a specimen, rather a person.

He wrote a bunch of things down on his clipboard, and said to my mom and dad, "I fear Will is a high-functioning autistic."

My parents gasped when he said that, but I don't know why. The doctor talked a little more to my parents in private. I could tell that my mom was on the verge of crying while my dad wrapped a protective arm around her. My father looked somewhat sick, or nauseous even. They both looked deeply disturbed by what the doctor was saying to them. My mom ushered me out of the bright room into the vast hallway. Her tears were beginning to fall freely. We walked into the parking lot to our white Suburban. The sun was bright that summer day, and I was already sweating. I asked them what autistic meant the whole car ride home, but they just said another time. I realized that meditating on the word wasn't going to make me understand it, so I surrendered to my fatigue, closed my eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.