CHAPTER SEVEN
Emmet
I wanted to get Jeremey the service dog right away, before the New Year’s Eve party. But I soon learned that service dogs were not easy to get.
I discovered there were different kinds of support dogs too, and they did different things. There were emotional support dogs, which weren’t as expensive but weren’t trained as well and weren’t allowed into public spaces the same way James’s dog had been. They worked with individuals, but they could just as easily work with any individual as the next one. They could be admitted to apartments that had “no pets” policies, but they couldn’t do much else. Therapy dogs couldn’t do that, and they also couldn’t be brought into public establishments, but they could work with multiple people at once, which was more what they were designed to do.
What we wanted for Jeremey was a service dog. They were covered by the ADA, and the owner had the right to bring them into public establishments. They could tolerate a wide variety of experiences and environments. Like emotional-support dogs, they could be brought into apartments with “no pets” policies, but they were specifically trained to assist one person and were often tailored to meet their unique needs. This meant they were expensive.
Very expensive.
They required more time and effort as well. We were going to need Dr. North’s help too, since a therapist would need to be involved in both the approval and the training, making sure the dog did what Jeremey needed it to do—but I soon learned, however, even if I had no financial issues, service dogs were still difficult to acquire. I found only one place in Iowa with service dogs, and they had a waitlist of six months. Also, they needed a deposit of five thousand dollars. I was glad I’d made the phone call with my dad because I couldn’t speak after that. I began humming and flapping, and my dad had to get on the phone and finish the conversation with the woman I’d been talking to.
I didn’t have five thousand dollars. I only had three thousand in my IRA account, and that was for retirement. And this five thousand dollars was only a deposit. They’d want more money later. Depending on the dog, I might need as much as twenty thousand dollars. It would be years before I could get a dog for Jeremey.
I hummed and rocked and flapped my hands, wishing I were at home in my apartment so I could go to my closet in my sensory sack.
“Hold on. Hold on.” My dad was off the phone now, and he sat in front of me, using his calm down, Emmet voice. “That was our first call, and the woman told me there are places we can go for scholarships and grants, and other people in and around the Midwest training dogs we can talk to. The grants are competitive, and the need for dogs is higher than the availability, but here’s where we might want to bring in our secret weapon. Because you know who is aces at writing grants and winning scholarships and bullying her way into getting what she wants for her kid.”
Mom. He meant my mom. I flapped with a different kind of agitation now. She’s going to get bossy, I signed.
“Probably so. Look, you take the good with the bad. Where do you want the bossy, son, helping your boyfriend get a service dog, or on the other side?”
I wanted bossy to help me without bossing me. Which wasn’t possible. And I really wanted Jeremey to get the dog.
I thought he would tell her what was going on, but he didn’t. He had me do it, which had to be in sign because I was worked up, so much so I made grunting noises like Darren while I told the story with my hands. I went to my apartment first to put on my Stitch T-shirt, which was my sign that what I wanted was especially important to me. I practiced what I wanted to say, writing it out and signing in front of a mirror, but even with rehearsal it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I was quite upset toward the end. I had tears as I signed with angry and sloppy fingers. I don’t know why Dad didn’t just tell her. I was too worked up. And any second she was going to interrupt and tell me what to do.
Mom didn’t do that, though. She listened quietly, and when I made barking noises—not like I was pretending to be a dog, they were part of my autism getting the better of me because my emotions were so over the top—she put her hand over her mouth. When I started crying, she started crying. I was a little upset, but I needed to finish, so I kept going until I was done, and then I signed, I’m done, and put my hands in my lap.
Mom sat there for a minute, not saying anything, keeping her hands over her face as tears leaked through her fingers. My dad stared at her, not crying, but he had one of those looks I can’t read. Mom nodded at him and patted his leg. Then she turned to me. She didn’t pat my leg, but she looked at me the way she did when I was ten and she promised she would take care of the teacher who had upset me and made me bang my head against the wall until I bled.
“Emmet, I will get Jeremey one of those dogs, as quickly as I can. And you will not spend one red cent, and neither will he, so don’t worry about it, not anymore. Okay?”
I was surprised by this, but this was the same intense face, and she’d made the bad teacher go away the last time I’d seen it. I trusted her. Okay, I signed. Then, because it was polite, I added, Thank you, Mom. I remembered who had brought her here and added, And Dad.
Mom started crying again, but Dad only winked at me and rubbed her back.
We hugged also, and my mom called me her jujube many times, but eventually I went home and spent some time in my sensory sack.
When I came out, I still thought about the service dog a lot, but there wasn’t much I could do about it, so I did my best to focus on other things, such as the preparations for New Year’s Eve. We’d had parties before at The Roosevelt, and I knew how everything would go, the getting ready, so it was comforting to help. I showed up in the lounge, and Sally gave me a job. I was assigned to help prepare the snack food, which was a nice job because it was the same job Jeremey and David were already doing.
Jeremey smiled as he saw me come into the room. “Hi, Emmet. You’re later getting home than I thought you’d be.” He looked carefully at my eyes, and he put his concerned face on. “Is everything okay? Did something happen at your meeting?”
I knew he’d thought I had a work meeting when I was in fact talking about the service dog, but I didn’t want to tell him yet, in case it didn’t work. Though I realized now that I stood in front of him maybe I should talk to him about it before we got too serious. I rocked a moment, wondering if I should do it right now.
Jeremey put down the cup he was using to mix M&M’s into the popcorn and approached me. He didn’t touch me, but he came as close into my space as he could. As close as only Jeremey is allowed to get. “What’s wrong?”
I shut my eyes for a long second and drew in a slow breath, letting the smell of Jeremey fill my senses. I would know him by his scent alone in the middle of a crowd of strangers. I know the perfume of him over his sweat, over the pollution of rooms he’s walked through, of kitchens and cleansing agents and exhaust from cars. I know the color of Jeremey’s smell—a bluish green with brown and white flecks and bits of yellow, like an ocean wave coming into my shore. I know the shape and geometry of Jeremey’s smell, the weight of it. I have made computer programs to express how I feel about his smell, though I haven’t shown anyone, even him, because I’m not sure he’d understand. I don’t need him to understand, though. Not about the smell.
What I did need in this moment was for him not to worry, especially when there wasn’t anything to worry about. His scent had calmed me, reminded me he was here and he was okay, that I was okay, that we all were. And I thought, there’s no way Mom would get a dog tonight, so I could enjoy the party and find a way to tell Jeremey about it the next day, or whenever it felt right.
I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, my lips landing close to his, so I could feel the corner of his mouth under mine. I lingered there as I spoke, the scent of him rushing through me, making me wish we were alone because I would have had sex with him to show him I was okay. “I’m fine. I was emotional about something earlier, but it’s all settled now. Don’t worry. I’m happy to be here with you and David and everyone at the party.” I kissed him again, this time on the lips, and I added, “I love you.”
Jeremey leaned into me, putting a hand on my arm. He squeezed tight, a hard pressure so it didn’t tickle my skin. “I love you too, Emmet.”
Darren arrived at The Roosevelt as we were finishing setting up for the party.
Sally went to get him, but it took her a long time, and when they came back, she had an angry face I didn’t need any emotion flash cards to know what she was feeling. She smiled when she introduced Darren to everyone, but once this was done, she took Tammy’s arm and pulled her into the kitchen. This meant they wanted to have a private conversation, but there was a window in the door, and I could see them through it. Tammy was raising her arms and pointing at the wall toward the street and yelling, but Sally looked angry too, so I didn’t think Tammy was angry with her. Something was definitely going on, but I couldn’t tell what it was.
I wanted to ask Darren why they were so upset, as it was logical to assume he might know since he had been with Sally, but he was sitting on the couch watching a YouTube video and didn’t look as if he wanted to talk right now. He had asked me for the WiFi password before he came over, so he was already hooked up and plugged in with his headphones. Probably he was nervous in a new space and needed the comfort of his videos before he could be social.
I decided not to ask him about anything yet, but I did think I should focus on making him feel welcome. Jeremey was busy helping David hand out snacks, and I didn’t have a job assigned to me yet, so I assigned myself the job of keeping my friend company, because no one would know how to do it quite the way I could.
The first rule was you had to understand how much space he liked around him, especially when he was feeling uncertain about a new situation. No one else was sitting with him on the couch, but when I joined him, I made a point of sitting as far from him as I could get, and I didn’t make eye contact or do anything to draw attention to myself. If you think about it, the whole sitting-down thing was pretty much attention-drawing enough. For Darren, me sitting would be like an elephant landing, though I was careful to disturb the couch as little as possible.
My autism makes me a highly sensitive person, but compared to Darren my autism is nothing. I’m high functioning, and Darren is not. His autism keeps him trapped inside himself, and it has his whole life. There are people who think this is a bad thing, that there’s something wrong with him and it needs to be fixed. Darren disagrees. He says the world needs to fix itself to accept him. He’s not depressed at all, except he wishes sometimes he could find someone to share his life with. He isn’t interested in body parts, but he is interested in romance. He flirts with people on Tumblr all the time, though it’s Darren flirting so people don’t always know they’re being flirted with. He also gets in a lot of arguments there. I don’t do Tumblr because there’s not enough math.
Darren wasn’t on Tumblr when I sat next to him. As I said, he was watching YouTube, which is what he usually does when other people are around, but also what he does when he’s nervous. I could see from my camera eyes he was watching an unboxing video of someone opening Star Wars toys. He had the iPad close to his face, both hands on each side, his headphones tight on his ears, the hood to his sweatshirt pulled in close. He was tuning out the room.
I knew he could still see me, though, so I signed to him.
Hello, Darren. This is Emmet. Welcome to The Roosevelt. Do you want me to visit with you, or would you like to sit alone right now?
He didn’t answer right away, but I waited, knowing it might take him a minute to respond. Eventually he did, in Darren sign. I would like to visit with you in half an hour. Would you mind sitting with me until then?
I was fine with this, but I had to think a moment, because I wondered if Sally or Tammy would give me a job if they saw me sitting there. I decided what would happen was people would bother us. I knew how to fix that, but first I had to answer Darren. I don’t mind. Please let me know when you want to speak with me. I’ll wait here until you’re ready.
Thank you. He went back to watching his video.
I pulled out my phone and typed a text to Jeremey.
Jeremey, this is Emmet. I am on the couch with Darren. We are visiting silently, but other people might bother us. Would you please bring me card stock and a marker so I can make us a do-not-disturb sign?
He answered right away. Yes, I’ll send David. Thanks for being a good host to Darren. I love you.
A big ball of happiness expanded inside me, and I hummed and rocked. I love you too.
David came over with the supplies, and he looked as if he was going to say something, so I put my hand on the side of my face, which was my special signal for don’t talk to me, and he said nothing, only handed me the stuff and left. He knew I didn’t mean to be rude, which is why signals are so nice. After considering a moment, I put the card stock in my lap and wrote out the sign.
DO NOT DISTURB. SILENT CONVERSATION IN PROCESS.
Then I tented the sign and put it on the couch between us and waited.
I didn’t mind waiting at all. I counted things, mostly, because I always find that soothing and relaxing, and sometimes the information comes in handy. There were fifteen people in the room and the adjoining kitchenette, for example. Eleven men and four women. Two staff, twelve residents, one guest. We had only eleven places to sit, though, which would be a problem. I texted Jeremey and told him this and suggested he tell Sally to find us some more chairs, though of course David didn’t need one since he brought his with him. I counted the ceiling tiles, though I already knew how many there were, but I also counted how many people were wearing blue, and how many people had shoes with laces, and how many people were watching television and how many were listening to the music. I hadn’t begun to run out of the kinds of things I normally count, let alone had a chance to think of new things, when I saw Darren sign at me.
I’m ready to talk to you.
I was glad to talk to him, but part of me was disappointed because I’d had fun counting. I’m glad you could come to our party. It will be fun to have you stay over at our apartment. Did staff take your things upstairs already?
Yes. They let me in, and I put my bag by the door in your foyer. I didn’t look past the living room and kitchen, but your place looks nice.
It’s a good apartment. Bob helped set it up so it would be perfect for the two of us. You should see my sensory closet.
Darren made a noise and rocked back and forth as he signed. You’re really lucky. The Roosevelt seems like a great place.
Do you want to meet other people? Some of them are nonverbal, but some would like to say hello. Stuart screams a lot, so you might not want to meet him right now.
Maybe in a bit. I’m still kind of upset. There was an incident when I was leaving Icarus.
I wondered if this incident was why Tammy was still in the kitchen making hand gestures at Sally. An incident with you?
Darren hesitated. Sort of. It’s complicated. I’d rather not talk about it.
Do you want to be by yourself in our apartment for a while? I could take you upstairs.
No. I want to be at the party. I’m trying to desensitize myself so I can participate.
This seemed reasonable. I’ve always admired this aspect of Darren’s personality. All right. I can continue to wait with you. Jeremey or David could join us too.
Darren made another noise, this one like a seal, and he rocked hard, flapping his hands before he signed. I don’t want them to feel awkward because of me.
They won’t feel awkward. Remember. These are my special friends. They’re the Blues Brothers.
Darren’s mouth moved slightly, a subtle flicker of his lips. This, for Darren, was a smile. They’re The Roosevelt Blues Brothers. The best kind.
Yes. And we want to be with you. Even if you’re not at your best. We understand.
He hesitated a long time, then made the sign for yes. Okay. If you think they don’t mind. I can use my iPad to talk. I think I’m ready for that, with The Roosevelt Blues Brothers.
I texted Jeremey, and he brought David over. David hadn’t ever met Darren, I realized. We needed to introduce them.
I knew how to do introductions. I have several flash cards that help me practice them. I had them memorized, so I visualized them and tried to think of which one would be best to use right now with David and Darren.
“David and Darren,” I began, once I’d selected an introduction card from my brain, “please allow me to introduce you to one another. Darren.” I laid my hand flat and made it point to David though I’d just said Darren’s name. This is because when I said Darren, it was to get his attention, and now I was going to tell him about David. “This is David Loris. He is the son of Bob Loris, who owns The Roosevelt. He is one of my best friends, and he is a Roosevelt Blues Brother.” I hadn’t ever called us Roosevelt Blues Brothers before, but I liked the way Darren had phrased that. I was going to use it from now on. I switched my hands and pointed to Darren instead. “David. This is Darren Kennedy. He is also my friend, who I know from when I lived in Iowa City. He lives in Icarus House and is visiting us this evening for the party. He isn’t a Blues Brother, but he could be one. He should be.”
David raised his good hand in an awkward salute as he smiled at Darren. “Pleasure to meet you, Darren.”
Darren didn’t look at David, but he lifted his iPad as it spoke for him. “It is nice to meet you, David. Thank you for having me at your party.” He pulled the iPad down, rocking and humming as he poked at the screen. I waited because I knew he had something more to say, and soon enough, he raised the iPad. “I would like to be a Blues Brother. How do I apply for the job?”
I laughed and rocked, smiling at Darren’s joke. He’s a pretty funny guy. I’ve always enjoyed his sense of humor. David and Jeremey weren’t laughing, though, and Jeremey appeared thoughtful. “I think we should consider Darren a Blues Brother, for sure.”
Darren made another noise and shook his head. He signed at me, apparently tired of typing. I translated for him. “He says he has to be in a video first, to be a Blues Brother.” He wasn’t joking anymore, either, I didn’t think. I signed back at him. I don’t think you have to be in a video to be a Blues Brother.
David grinned. “I’m always down for another video. Been wanting to make one, actually. The question is, what song? It’s going to be tough to top ‘Happy.’”
Darren poked at his iPad. He rocked a lot, and he hissed through his teeth, which I knew was a noise he made when he got especially excited. He still made the noise when he held the iPad up to speak for him. “I will do research and find a good song and send it to Emmet to play for you. If you like it, I will help you make a new video. I’m good at tech.”
“Oh yeah?” David leaned forward in his chair, as much as he could. “Say, how good are you? I see you have an iPad that helps you talk. I want to be able to do more on the computer, and my dad says he’ll get me whatever system I want, but I’m overwhelmed with what to get. Do you know enough about that kind of thing to guide me through my accessibility options? Hardware and software, I’m talking.”
Darren made a loud, excited sound, and he grinned at the top of the iPad as he typed. “Yes. I will be happy to help a Blues Brother out, anytime.”
“Sweet. God, thanks, man. You think maybe you’d have time tomorrow? Unless I’m being pushy.”
“I would like to help tomorrow. But it all depends on when I go back to Icarus.” He typed some more. “If you get bored at the party, I would rather play with your computer than be in a room with strangers, to be honest. Say the word and we can go right now.”
David perked up, then glanced at Jeremey and Emmet. “You guys mind?”
Jeremey looked at me, and I knew he wanted me to make the decision because he doesn’t like decisions. I considered the question carefully. I wanted Darren to fit in with my friends, and I wanted David to get help with his computer. But I wanted to spend time with all of us at the party too. I decided there wasn’t any reason we couldn’t do both.
“Let’s all go to David’s room for a little while, but we have to finish in time for train dominoes.”
“It’s a deal.” David backed his chair up, grinning. “Jeremey, steal us some popcorn on the way out, will you? Hell, load my tray up with all the goodies you want. Party’s in my room, boys.”