600 Hours of Edward

fine.”
    “That’s good. Edward says he had a bad dream. I’m sure your son was never in danger.”
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Sure.”
    “What’s wrong with him?”
    My father smiles, as if to reassure her. “Edward has a severe case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. He has had it for a long time. What he did today is something new, I’ll admit, but hegenerally does what he has to do to control his condition. He’s on medication. He sees a therapist.”
    This shows what my father knows. The full story is that I’m obsessive-compulsive and that I have Asperger’s syndrome. Some people call that “high-functioning autism.” Dr. Buckley says it’s not my fault.
    “Is he dangerous?”
    “No. At least, he never has been. Edward’s compulsions generally lie in solitary things—the TV shows he watches, the projects he gets involved in, the things that stimulate his mind.”
    “I see. But you say that he’s never done this.”
    “No.”
    “Can you assure me that he never will again?”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t think he will, but I can’t promise that.”
    “OK. Would you please tell him to leave us alone? Will he do that?”
    “I will see to it.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I’m glad your son is OK.”
    “Thank you.”
    Donna Middleton leaves.
    – • –
    My father lays out the situation for me, which I already know. I am to stay away from Donna Middleton and Kyle. I have scared them, and I am not to bother them ever again.
    “Go home, Edward,” my father says.
    – • –
    There is so much to do back at the house. None of my data has been recorded. I start with the time I woke up. The fact is, I just don’t know. I was sitting in the 1997 Toyota Camry at 7:40, and so I estimate that my eyes opened at 7:39 and that I took a minute to dash out the door and get into the car. But I just don’t know for sure. I write down 7:39—the twenty-fourth time out of 292 days this year (because it’s a leap year), but the first time that I’ve put an asterisk next to the time. This signifies that the time is an estimate. I don’t like estimates. I prefer facts.
    I also grab the
Billings Herald-Gleaner
and record yesterday’s high and low temperatures—fifty-four and twenty-eight. The forecast today is as I expected; it’s warm, with a projected high of sixty-three. I will know for sure tomorrow.
    And my data is complete.
    – • –
    In the shower, I think about what a mess today already is. I’m relieved that Kyle is OK. I am scared of these dreams that I’m having. I wonder where they are coming from and why they are coming. It will be a long wait until Tuesday, when I can talk to Dr. Buckley about them. She is a very logical person. I hope she can explain what’s happening.
    I think about how it’s too late now for a bowl of corn flakes, which is going to throw off my system of food consumption completely. I think about my data. I think about how ugly the garage is and how I’m going to have to do something about that soon.
    Mostly, I think about Donna Middleton and how scared she was this morning. I was scared, but my fear was nothing like hers. I think about how if it hadn’t been for me, she would have been just fine, going about her work as an emergency departmentnurse at Billings Clinic. I think about my father and how disappointed he seemed. I think about how many times he has had to show up somewhere and get me out of some trouble. This is probably worse than the “Garth Brooks incident.”
    I slump down into the tub, pull my knees up to chin, and rest my head.
    – • –
    At Montana Personal Connect, I see it again:
    Inbox (1).
    I click the link.
    Hi Edward!
    Your SO funny. I liked your note very much. I would like to keep talking to you. You have a kind face too. I like youre eyes.
    Let’s do this OK? I will ask you five questions about yourself and then you write back with the answers and five questions about me.
    Here are some questions.
    1. Where were you born?
    2. Do you have any nicknames?
    3. What do you like to do on a date?
    4. Do you have any brothers or sisters?
    5. Would you help the roadrunner escape from the coyote or help the coyote catch the roadrunner?
    Write back!
    Joy
    This is a confounding woman. She has gotten no better at grammar, and I may have to prepare myself for the possibility that she never will. But she also asks really good, although random, questions.
    I will have to think about this for a while.
    – • –
    After dinner—a Banquet