600 Hours of Edward

be easier if there were some hard data about these things.
    – • –
    “Edward,” Kyle says to me. “Do you want to come over and play some
Guitar Hero
?”
    We have thrown all the snowballs we wish to throw. What had been a pristine blanket of snow on the front yard is now full of three sizes of footprints and tiny valleys where snow was scooped up.
    I don’t want to play
Guitar Hero
. I don’t want to go to Donna and Kyle’s house. Why, I cannot explain. I also do not want to be rude. Dr. Buckley says it is OK for me to not want to do some things but that I don’t have to “be abrupt” with people. She says one of the keys to getting along socially is being able to say no firmly and gracefully. I try this.
    “No, thank you, not today.”
    “Oh.” Kyle—and even Donna—looks a little sad. Saying no is hard. No wonder Dr. Buckley has spent so much time talking about it with me.
    “But I have a large DiGiorno supreme pizza,” I say. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
    “Can we, Mom?”
    “Sure,” Donna says. “Thank you, Edward. We’d be happy to.”
    We agree to meet back here in an hour. At the front door, I look back and watch Donna and Kyle cross the street, hand in hand.
    – • –
    “You don’t have a lot of stuff, Edward.” Kyle, changed out of his playing-in-the-snow clothes, is standing in the living room, looking around.
    He is not entirely correct, but it’s easy to see why he would think so. My furnishings are spare; when my father bought this house, he asked me how I would like to outfit it, and I asked for furniture from IKEA. For one thing, I like how modern it is—it is unadorned Swedish furniture. For another, IKEA furniture is all about utility. What Kyle sees as spare is actually furniture that allows me to make sure everything has its place. For yet another, IKEA furniture has to be assembled by the buyer, and I like putting things together. My father was not happy about the price—it costs a lot of money to have IKEA furniture shipped to Montana—but he let me have it.
    “Watch this, Kyle,” I say.
    I show him how the small entertainment center holding my TV and stereo system, against the south wall of the living room, has lots of tiny compartments and how I’ve filled them with movies and compact discs and other things. I show him the coffee table, with still more compartments, where I have stored pens and paper clips and rubber bands and batteries and other things I need.
    I take him into the computer room and show him the stackable storage containers, full of seasonal clothing and household items.
    “Wow. I guess you do have some stuff. Do you have a PlayStation Two?”
    “No.”
    “Do you have a Wii?”
    “No.”
    “How do you have fun?”
    Before today, that’s a question that would have flummoxed me.
    – • –
    After dinner, Kyle is in the computer room, playing the only game I have on my computer: blackjack. I had spent a few minutes explaining how it worked, how he didn’t want to exceed twentyone with his cards. I showed him how he could split two cards of the same number and double his bet.
    “But only do it with aces and eights,” I said.
    “Why?”
    “Because with anything else, you’re only building two bad hands. If you split two tens or two face cards, you’ve broken up a hand that will win most of the time. Same thing with two nines. With two sevens, often the best you can do is get two ties, and that’s only if you draw tens on each one. And so on. Do you understand?”
    “Not really.”
    “Just play. You’ll figure it out.”
    Back in the living room, Donna tells me something. “Mike’s going to be in court next week—Monday.”
    “Are you going to be there?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will you be OK?”
    “I don’t know. But I will be there, for every court appearance and for the trial.”
    “Does Kyle know what happened?”
    “Most of it. I couldn’t hide the bruises, you know. I haven’t told him about the choking.” There is not much bruising to hide now. If I didn’t know it had happened, I might not be able to see the damage at all.
    “Maybe that’s for the best.”
    “I think so,” she says. “Part of the reason I’m going to court is for Kyle. The main thing is that I want Mike to know that he’s not going to get the better of me. But it’s also a reminder to me that I’ve done poorly in choosing who I let near my son. I won’t make that mistake again.”
    Donna’s eyes have a faraway look, as