Daniel and Jonah Part 9

Chapter 9
Copyright 2019

We eventually made our way to the nearest beach and Dan's eyes widened in surprise. Since it was after Labor Day it was nearly empty, only a few die-hard sunbathers and swimmers were there, and more than one wore a shirt or a hat to protect them from the sun. I couldn't help but smile when Dan did. 

"When's the last time you were by the ocean?"

"I don't remember," he admitted, looking out over the water as though he'd never seen it before. "I remember when I was a kid that I had a fascination for lighthouses, so mom would buy me one every year and I'd put them on my window sill. He looked down at the sand with a slight frown. "I guess I must have gotten tired of them at some point because I don't know where they all are now."

I grinned as I said, "Maybe they have a souvenir shop somewhere nearby and we can pick one up for you. Start a new collection. What do you think?"

His attention was drawn suddenly to the sky, which was clear and blue that day.

"What are those?" he exclaimed.

I shaded my eyes and looked up. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was so fascinated by.

"Those! Those silver birds! What are they?"

Finally, my eyes focused. "Seagulls."

"Seagulls?" he replied, his tone hushed, "Are you sure? Why are they silver?"

I frowned and focused on the birds catching the breeze beneath their wings. They seemed the same color as always to me, and I found myself wishing that I could see things the way Dan did.

"Maybe it's the way the sun is catching their wings," I guessed. I wondered if I had ever thought the birds were silver as a kid and their beauty just... faded away as I got older. I glanced back up at the birds who Dan was still following with his eyes, and wished again that I could see what he did. I was surprised at myself for feeling a little sad, and a little jealous. Luckily I caught myself in time and gave myself another mental head slap for allowing myself to think that way.

"So," I continued cheerfully, "let's plant this umbrella, set up camp and hit the water, what do you say?"

He seemed surprised to find himself still on the beach but helped me set up our little area with a vague smile.

"What are you thinking, Dan?" I asked, "I'd say, 'Penny for your thoughts,' but I have a feeling that yours are worth a lot more than a penny."

He suddenly looked away as though embarrassed and I could feel that invisible barrier starting to come up between us once again.

"Dan," I warned, "remember what I said I'd do if you shut me out again?"

He looked at me then, surprised, then he glanced around warily, "You'd do that in front of all these people?"

"No, I'd wait until we were back at the car, or even back home. If it's serious enough I'd even take you to the men's room right here. I'm serious though, Dan... I meant what I said. I'm not going to judge you. You can tell me anything and I won't laugh or judge. Do you believe me?"

"I believe you," he replied shyly, then after a short pause he took a deep breath and said quietly, "I sometimes wish I could fly. I dream of flying. In my dreams, I have angel wings, and I have my little, secluded house in the forest and I just fly around and look at everything. Feel the sun and the wind on my face and the breeze on my skin, catching my wings," he said as he looked back up at the seagulls, "and just... no one is around. Just me..." he stopped himself as though he thought he'd said too much and then I could see him tense up as he waited for me to laugh.

"That sounds really beautiful," I replied softly, then an idea hit me so hard that I would have been knocked over by it if it had been a solid thing. I did my best to contain my excitement as I asked, "Dan, are you afraid of heights?" I prayed that his answer would be 'No,' because I had a possible way to make that dream come true, minus the angel wings, of course, I reminded myself.

I nearly sighed in relief when he said no.

"I have a surprise for you then. Do you know when you're off next?"

"I'll have to check my schedule, but I know I'm off tomorrow and the next day."

"I mean, in about a week or two," I said, knowing that I'd need at least that much time to make my plans.

"Oh, I don't know that far in advance," he replied.

"If I gave you a date, could you ask for it off?" I suggested.

"I guess," he said uncertainly.

"Don't worry hon, let's have fun for now. I'm going to need a little time, ok? I have an idea but I want it to be a surprise for you. I think you'll love it," I grinned. "C'mon, last one in the water has to eat sushi," I joked.

Dan frowned slightly and said, "I like sushi."

With that information in hand, I took off like a shot and dove into the water which was a bit cold at first, but it was either jump into cold water or eat sushi, which was just not going to happen unless it was a life or death situation. I was more than happy to buy him a sushi dinner at a great nearby hibachi grill just before we headed home.

A few nights later I was invited over to Dan's house for dinner.

"It'll just be the two of us though if that's ok," he said uncertainly, "mom and dad are taking Freddie to the movies and then to McDonald's."

"That's fine," I agreed with a grin. I liked the idea of just having him to myself without Freddie's incessant chatter.

When I arrived Dan met me at the door and took my jacket. Hanging it up on the hook behind the door he led me to the kitchen table which had been set for the promised dinner.

"Have a seat," Dan said with a grin, "I'll get the food."

To my surprise, he came back carrying two plates... of sushi.

"I noticed that you didn't have any last time we were out, so I thought I'd surprise you," he said, handing me a pair of chopsticks before sitting down and anxiously waiting for me to take the first bite.

I knew that I couldn't say no and possibly hurt his feelings since he'd obviously made it by hand, so this being a life or death situation, in my opinion, I ate. I did pretty well and only gagged once which I explained was merely a reaction to the wasabi sauce. "Just a little too potent for me, sorry," I explained with a grin.

He chuckled and said, "Oh, I don't like that either, but I didn't know if you did, so I made it. Do you like dinner?"

"I love it," I fibbed as I gobbled the food as quickly as I could without actually tasting it. The thick coating of rice which he'd wrapped it in made that easy enough.

Dan was so pleased that I'd enjoyed it that he got up and refilled our plates.

With a sigh of resignation I smiled and thanked him, and... ate the sushi. It was worth it to see the happiness on his face.

(end chapter 9)

Daniel and Jonah Part 8

Chapter 8
Copyright 12/01/19



One July evening around six thirty he brought me to a lake I'd never heard of before in a neighboring town. It was definitely a place for people to go swimming, there was even a dock and a small pier for fishing, but there was no one else there. I looked at the sign and then my clock on my phone.

"Dan," I began, "it looks like the place is closed. I don't think we're supposed to be here..."

"Don't worry about it," he replied with a smile, "Coach knows me and lets me come here after hours. He knows I don't go out too far."

I had no idea who Coach was but I was surprised at the man for allowing anyone to swim without a lifeguard present.

Dan must have seen the indecision in my green eyes because he explained, "I don't like large crowds, especially on the beach. People... kind of scare me, and... whenever I've tried to come here when it's busy I end up with a few of them harassing me. Coach has seen that, so he lets me come out when there isn't anyone else around," he pointed to a small house that was nearby, "that's where Coach lives. He can see and hear everything from his window and he keeps an eye out for me, but it's not necessary," he continued.

Removing his sneakers and socks he waded into the water. He walked out about ten feet before he began to disappear into the water little by little. He stopped when he was about neck deep, then turned and called me to join him. I could see why the Coach wasn't worried. From where Dan was, it was only a short swim to the floating dock. I knew that Daniel was 5'7", so I knew that the water couldn't be more than about ten or twelve feet deep in the dock area.

We spent a good portion of the early evening swimming, splashing, diving or jumping off of the dock, and there was a large slide that Dan loved to go down, trying to see how big of a splash he could make when he hit the water. We had, I admit, a wonderful time, and as the sun began to go down, lights came on, startling me. Dan just smiled and waved toward the house. The light flickered and then remained stable. I smiled as well. It was nice to know that Dan had friends who looked out for him. We horsed around in the water until the sunset at which point we went back to the beach to dry off.

My eyes widened when I saw Dan take off his wet shirt. He had several tattoos. I was surprised because he'd just never struck me as the tattoo type. He saw me looking and quickly began to put on a clean, dry shirt. I knew that if there had been more light I'd have seen him blush.

"No, Dan, don't cover them up yet, please? I'd love to see them," I said with a smile. "I love tattoos, I've just never gotten up the nerve to get one myself. I hear they're pretty painful," I admitted sheepishly.

He seemed indecisive at first but then put aside the tee shirt to let me look at the artwork on his arms and chest. He lifted the hem of his shorts so that I could see the one on his thigh. They were all larger than my hand and in full color.

"Didn't that hurt?" I asked, a little in awe.

"Nah, it's no worse than a little sunburn at first. And my guy takes really good care of me."

"Those are really great," I said admiringly as I examined them more closely. That's when I saw the scar on the bicep of his left arm. I squinted in the dim light to get a better view of it. It was obviously pretty old but it looked as though it had been painful when it had first happened. It looked to me as though it had been a burn. Concerned, I asked him about it.

As talkative and animated as he'd been a moment earlier, once again that iron wall was up between us, and he hurriedly put his shirt back on, not looking at me.

"Dan," I began.

He silently sat down on the beach and started to put on his socks and sneakers.

"Daniel," I said a little more sharply, "you have got to stop doing this."

Confused, he stopped tying his sneaker, looking between me and his sneakers as though he couldn't understand why tying his laces would upset me.

"That's not what I mean," I said sternly as I sat down on the sand beside him, "what I mean is that you have got to stop shutting me out. There's nothing you can tell me that will make me dislike you. We've been going out together for what now, four months? Have you ever seen me turn away from you? For any reason? What makes you think I'd do it now? I want you to trust me, Dan. I need you to trust me. It... hurts that there's still that reserve between us after all this time," I finally admitted.

Without looking at me Dan finally admitted, "I was about fourteen. I did something stupid. I'm embarrassed that I did it. It was a long time ago, but... it's a mark I'll never get rid of, and it'll always remind me..." he trailed off. He fell silent and finished tying his laces.

"Dan," I replied more gently, "whatever you did when you were a kid... it's over and done with. Whatever you did, you learned from it, and that's what counts. You keep hinting to me that you weren't the greatest person when you were younger. Neither was I. I honestly don't know anyone who was. Its part of what being a kid means, understand? We did stupid stuff. We learned. We grew, older and wiser. I'm not going to judge you for what you did as a child or hold anything from your past against you any more than I'd expect you to do it to me. Understand?"

Daniel shrugged, still not looking at me.

"Hey, next time you do that I'm going to swat you one, hear me?"  I said. I could hear the edge to my voice so I took a calming breath. Still frustrated, I stood up and paced as I waited for him to speak.

He was quiet for a minute or so as he finished tying his laces and stood up. He then looked at me from beneath his lashes.  "You've said that twice now. Would you really do it?" he asked quietly.

"Do wha..." I began just before understanding hit. "Swat you? For shrugging off my words? Yes. Shutting me out because you're afraid I'll leave you? Yes. Walking around during the winter with your jacket unzipped," I said significantly, "yes."

A small half smile graced his features as he ducked his head slightly so that he was no longer looking straight at me. Instead of a verbal response, he put his arms around my waist and pulled me into a hug, resting his head against my chest once more. This time I didn't ask since he'd initiated the touch. I put my arms around him and held him tight, swaying a bit as I did so.

It took some time but I finally convinced him to go to a public beach with me. I could understand his reticence, and I didn't push it, but I did let him know that I would be right beside him at all times so that if anyone tried to bother him, I'd be there to stop it.

He bit his lip as he thought about it and finally nodded, shrugging at the same time. "I burn," he finally said, "like a lobster. I don't even have to be out in the sun for very long. My sister and mother always tease me that I'm a vampire."

"We'll get you some high SPF sunscreen," I replied with a smile, "and you can wear a tee shirt, and even a wide-brimmed hat if you're worried."

"People will make fun of me for wearing the hat," he said dully.

"Not with me there, they won't. And if they do, I'll certainly speak up. So, is it a date?"

Daniel and Jonah Part 7

Chapter 7

We saw a lot of each other during the following months, and Dan was a lot more comfortable with me, smiling more, more open, and more animated than I'd seen previously. And we learned a lot about each other, which made me happy.

In mid-June, he introduced me to some of his friends in the neighborhood, and they seemed very likable folks. I was touched and grateful that they were so kind to him without being condescending. They treated him just as they treated everyone else, including me. Especially Big John.

He was sitting out on his porch with a group of people who were all drinking and laughing. I recognized the house as the one that had been decorated to the teeth for Halloween. He was a large, exuberant guy that everyone called Johnny who practically roared a greeting as he embraced me and welcomed me to the family.

Johnny's daughter and son were with him and they were just like their father, smiling and welcoming. His son was practically a carbon copy of his father. There were several other people there who reacted in various ways. A couple of people were more reserved, which I could understand, but more were smiling welcomingly and immediately drew me into the conversation, eager to get to know me in person since they'd heard so much about me from Dan. Johnny's son, predictably named Johnny junior but whom everyone referred to as Little John, asked me if I'd like a drink and I accepted an ice cold beer gratefully as it was a hot night.

Dan had taken one as well and I frowned a little to myself. I knew he took medications and that drinking alcohol was on the list of things to avoid. I refrained from saying anything at that time. I wasn't going to embarrass him, but I was going to watch his alcohol intake. He didn't protest when I told Little John that Dan and I would love some water after the first beer. He showed no resentment toward me for making that decision and sat close by, sipping at the water and cracking the occasional joke which had the group laughing.

I was surprised that night when I dropped him off at home and tried to take him into my arms for a hug and he flinched a little. When he saw my hurt expression he quickly explained, "I get a little nervous when people touch me and I'm not expecting it, that's all," he said sheepishly, "one day at church I was helping an elderly lady and she just touched my hair and I... well, I kinda jumped. I didn't mean to scare her but she sort of scared me first, if you know what I mean."

He blushed a little at that confession and looked down at the ground.

I gave myself a mental head slap. I had read somewhere in the many articles regarding autism that for many of them their senses were heightened. Some preferred not to be touched at all, and others needed to be asked so that they could prepare for the sensation. Up until now, I'd kept that at the forefront of my memory for this very reason. I took a breath and offered him an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you first. That was entirely my fault. Is it alright if I hug you?" I asked, trying to be more considerate, even though it was a little late. 

With a grateful smile, Dan walked into my outstretched arms, snuggling in... fitting in as though he had always been meant to fill that spot.

Daniel and Jonah Part 6

Chapter 6

I was surprised when I rang the doorbell and a young boy with an unruly mop of hair opened the door, peeking out from behind it with a smile. I introduced myself just before I heard a woman's exasperated voice say, "Freddie, I told you to put a shirt on, now go upstairs and do what you were told."

The boy, who looked as though his hair hadn't seen a scissor in a couple of years, grinned at me and I could hear running footsteps. The woman opened the door the rest of the way with a welcoming smile, "Come on in, it's nice to finally meet you," the short, plump, salt and pepper haired woman said as she shook my hand and pulled me inside at the same time. I could see where Dan got his curly hair from.

I replied politely in kind although Dan hadn't told me overly much about his family. As I walked in I saw pictures on the walls of smiling children from infancy on up. I had to smile at the ones of Daniel as a toddler because he hadn't changed much. He still had a baby face and the same curly hair, although it had darkened from the platinum blonde which it had once been.

The youngest, Freddie, at this age looked just like Dan had at the age of ten, except for the color of his hair which was dark brown.

There were pictures of a little girl who could only be Dan's sister Amanda on the wall as well. She'd been an adorable little baby and toddler but she looked like a model in what I assumed were her latest pictures.

Dan saw me looking and explained, "I told you about my sister. She's not here. She moved away to Pennsylvania with her boyfriend last year."

Before I could reply the younger boy came back down the stairs, sounding like, as my own mother used to say about me and my brothers, a herd of elephants. He was still grinning and began talking to me, his words rapid fire and nearly impossible to understand for the most part.

"Fred, give the man a chance to settle in before you talk his ears off," his mother said, still sounding exasperated but I could also hear the tone of affection in her voice. "In case you didn't know, this is Freddie, Dan's little brother."

I couldn't help but look between the two a few times in confusion. I knew now that Dan was in his early 20s but this boy couldn't have been much older than twelve. 

His mother saw my reaction and chuckled, "Freddie is fourteen now. He was born when Dan was ten years old, he was our big surprise," she explained, giving the boy a hug before asking him to go into the kitchen and finish setting the table. The boy groaned but went to do as he'd been asked when he was pinned with 'the mother look', which this woman had seemingly mastered.

"My name is Angela, Angie for short," she introduced herself as she drew me toward the dinner table and closer to the wonderful scents in the air, "and this is his father, James, but everyone calls him Jim."

A tall 50ish man stood up from where he'd been sitting at the table playing a handheld video game and offered his hand, "Good to meet you, Jonah," he said. I could tell already that this was a man of few words.

"Well," Angie announced, "the food is ready whenever you all are. Put the game down, Jim."

It was such a motherly thing to say to a grown man that I nearly laughed. Reluctantly Dan's father put it aside and began to pile spaghetti onto my plate as the bread was offered to me.

Dinner that night was amazing. His mother had made garlic bread and salad, and the sauce was like nothing I'd ever had before. Dan was right. It was a treat. I had three helpings before I was finally too full to eat more.

Throughout dinner it had been difficult to have a conversation with anyone because Freddie was a little chatterbox, firing questions off and continuing to speak before getting a full answer, which I admitted to myself I found a little annoying although I kept a smile on my face. As quiet as Dan's father was, his youngest son made up for even though he'd been told several times by his mother to 'Hush up and eat, Fred.'

Despite the rapid and seemingly endless talk from his little brother, the kid managed to put away two plates full of spaghetti and bread nearly as quickly as he spoke. The boy finished off his food and quickly got up, preparing to leave the table.

"Fred put your dishes in the washer, then you can go upstairs and play your video game," his mother announced, only to be met with another groan of protest and the beginning of what looked like tears.

"If you don't help, you can't play your game. Your choice," his mother said in a matter of fact tone, "and the longer you moan and complain the longer it'll be before you can play it."  Then she turned to Dan and myself and said, "Why don't the two of you go on into the living room and turn the TV on. I'll bring dessert and coffee in."

I was about to explain that I was stuffed when Dan said with an excited gleam in his eyes, "Mom found nonnie's recipe for cheesecake, believe me you'll have room for it." His words turned out to be very true. The cake itself was light and the fresh strawberries on top were sweet. I managed two slices before I once again was too full to put in anything else. The coffee was strong but good. I noticed that Dan drank iced tea, "I can't stand coffee," he explained briefly as he looked at his watch and checked the time. He was the only man I knew who still wore a wristwatch, and as I thought about it, I realized that I'd never seen him use a cell phone like most people.

I was only vaguely aware of it when his little brother, who had finished helping in the kitchen, thundered up the stairs to continue with his game with a plate and fork which I rightly assumed contained a piece of the cheesecake as his mother yelled up after him.

I leaned in to speak confidentially to Daniel and asked, "Does she always do that? Make Freddie do all the cleaning?"

Dan chuffed a laugh. "No, he hardly does anything. Mom's trying to get him used to helping around the house."

I could feel my eyebrows go up in surprise but then I had to grin. We'd had much the same problem in our house when I'd been growing up.

Dan turned to the correct channel just as the documentary was beginning. Even though I was a history buff, my interests centering mostly on World Wars I and II, I found it to be as enthralling as Dan did. I could understand his fascination with it, and the popcorn which his mother had made went almost uneaten as I was drawn into the events unfolding on the screen.

After the documentary was over, Dan and I sat for a long time, talking about what we'd seen and heard. I found out that it wasn't just the Civil War but history in general that Dan was interested in, and knew quite a lot about. Somehow the conversation turned to the Renaissance period, which he was also well versed in. 

I found it to be a wonderful experience, to have Dan open up to me about his interests and sharing his knowledge with me. I found myself loving him even more just for the animation in his voice, his exuberance while speaking, the sparkle in his grey-blue eyes.

"I'd like to go to another Renaissance fair," he said, "we went to one last summer and it was a lot of fun. I asked mom to make me a costume for next time, but she said she wasn't sure if we could afford the materials, or how we'd get there. My aunt drove us last time but we can't keep asking her to do that. Sometimes I wish we had our own car." Everything had been said in such a matter of fact manner that I nearly missed the last thing he said.

It was only then that I realized that there hadn't been a car in the driveway when I'd parked. I had just assumed that it had been in their freestanding garage or even out being serviced. It had never occurred to me that there could be anyone out there who didn't have one.

"How about if I bring you this year?" I asked.

Dan was suddenly quiet.

"What's wrong, Dan?" I asked, worried that I might have said something wrong, "we don't have to go if you don't want to."

"Mom and Freddie liked the fair last time too... would you be... willing to..." he stammered, looking very uncomfortable.

I realized then that Dan and his mother were very close, and that there were just some things he was hesitant to share with anyone else. I knew then that if I took Dan and his mother that I'd also have to take the Chatterbox, as I'd become to think of him with fondness, now that he wasn't in the same room talking a mile a second.

"Of course they can come along," I smiled, "there's plenty of room in my car for everyone. What about your dad?"

"I'm not sure if he'd have the day off from work or not. Or if he'd even want to go. The Renaissance is something that mom and I share, the music, the culture..."

Jonah smiled then, "Of course we can all go. I think it would be a lot of fun, and honestly, I can't wait to go with you. You can tell me about all of the things I don't know."

Dan smiled and then as though he'd been talking about it the entire time he asked, "Do you want to go to my room? I'd like to show you my library."

I chuckled as a thought came to me and Dan's smile disappeared somewhat as he said, "We don't have to," he added, sounding just a little upset.

At first I didn't understand the sudden change in his mood, then I realized that he might have thought that I was laughing at him, so I explained patiently, "Dan, there's an old cliche that I just thought of, that's what made me laugh, not anything pertaining to you personally."

"Cliche?"

"It's just an old thing, I'm not even sure where it came from, but when someone was trying to lure another person to their room for," I hesitated a moment because I wasn't sure how he'd take the meaning behind it, "well," I hedged, "for less than noble reasons, they would ask if the other person would like to go to their bedroom to 'see their etchings' or paintings or some other thing, just anything to get them to go into the bedroom with them. I know that's not why you asked me," I added hastily, seeing his face stiffen up somewhat, "it's just an old joke that I thought of. I'd love to see your library, if you still want to share it with me," I finished lamely. I wondered to myself if I'd already managed to mess things up with him. I knew that he wasn't one to trust easily and I didn't want to be the one to lose his.

His features relaxed somewhat and he led me upstairs and to the room on the left. 

"Wow, I've never seen wallpaper like that before," I grinned.

"Wallpaper?" Dan asked, confused.

I looked again and realized that it wasn't wallpaper at all. It was, for all intents and purposes, a library. Shelves had been custom built, and every shelf was full of books. As I looked around I noticed that there were books piled on the floor and by his bedside table as well. The space that wasn't taken up by his bed held an easel with his latest painting on it.

Self consciously he began to take the painting down.

"I'd love to see it, Dan. If you don't mind, that is."

He hesitated for several moments before slowly turning the canvas toward me so that I could see it.

There, suspended in the center of the canvas, was a figure that definitely looked like an angel, wings flared, using a golden tipped spear to fight a black dragon while streaks of sunlight pierced the clouds above as though lending the angel extra power to defeat the serpent. I leaned down a little to take a closer look. I turned toward Dan with a smile, "This is really good."

"You think so? I know it's kind of abstract..."

"Yeah, this is really good... the painting style reminds me a little of Monet."

"Monet?"

I thought for a moment before replying, "Dabs of colors that create the subject of the painting, rather than just doing what I do, which is drawing a picture and then trying to shade it. Did you do all of this freehand?" I asked, turning once again to admire the angel on the canvas.

"Yes," he replied softly, "so, you really think it's good?"

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, believe me. I can't be the only one who has told you that," I replied, smiling.

"No," he replied uncertainly, "but I always think they're just saying that to be nice."

Looking around, I saw a stack of canvases against a wall. "May I see some more?"

"Ummm, maybe later, ok?" he replied uncertainly before a mischievous little smile appeared on his lips, "I brought you up here to show you my... etchings... remember?"

I blinked in surprise, which he seemed to find amusing if the twinkle in his grey-blue eyes was anything to go by. Finally, I grinned back, "Brat," I said fondly, "ok, let's see your library."

As he showed me book after book I found myself astounded, not only by the sheer number but by the incredible variety of subjects, fiction, nonfiction, autobiographies, biographies, many volumes on history, several bibles, science fiction, fantasy, quite a few very definitely antiques, first editions which I handled carefully. As I picked up one of his bibles, which I recognized as the book he'd been taking notes from just the other day, a piece of paper fell out.

I picked it up and read it with some difficulty because his printing was a bit on the messy side, but the message it conveyed went straight to my heart.

Life never lasts forever

As I go down times river

I am not afraid of the swordsmen in front of me

Ready to take me away forever more

Rather I fear the ropes and chains behind

"Dan," I said quietly, "this is... really beautiful."

He obviously hadn't noticed me reading the poem until I spoke because once he saw me with it his face turned red and he moved to take it away from me. I could see that his hand was shaking slightly and once again he wouldn't look directly at me.

"I'm sorry," he replied, the animation gone from his voice once again, "I never meant for anyone to see that."

Initially, I wanted to keep it from his hand and put it into my pocket, but I also knew that I didn't have the right to do so. I took his shaking hand and placed the paper carefully so that it wouldn't tear.

"Dan," I said quietly, "it really is a beautiful piece of poetry. It just fell out of the book."

He didn't reply but took the paper and folded it as small as he could and threw it into a drawer.

"I'm sorry," I began.

"It's my fault," he said, still blushing furiously. 

To change the subject I said, "I write a bit of poetry myself. I've never shared it with anyone either. If you'd like, I'll bring one of mine with me the next time we see each other. We can share that way, alright?"

He looked at me dubiously and I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I promise. I think that we can learn a lot about each other this way. What do you say?"

"I guess," he replied uncertainly, turning his gaze once again to the wood floor of his bedroom, "I'll have to find where I put them all."

Inwardly I sighed with relief, I'd been afraid once again that I might have scared him away.

Slowly and gently, so that I wouldn't startle him, I took him by the shoulders and turned him toward me, tilting my head down so that I could see his face better despite the fact that he was still looking down at the floor.

"Dan," I said gently, "Daniel... you never have to worry about me judging, laughing... I'm not a mean person, and I truly care for you. All I want is for you to be happy, and comfortable... especially with me. I promise that I'll never intentionally do anything to hurt or upset you, and if I do, I want you to feel free to tell me. OK?"

He quickly glanced up before turning his eyes down once more and I could feel his shoulders go up in a slight shrug.

"I mean it, hon," I continued quietly, "I hope that the more we get to know each other the more you can learn to trust me. I understand that you've had a difficult time in the past. I just want you to know that when I say that I'm here for you, I mean it. You can tell me anything. And when you feel comfortable enough with me to do that, I'll be here, alright?"

" 'K," he replied in a soft voice.

"Is it alright if I give you a hug, Dan?" I asked gently.

He glanced up again from beneath his fair lashes, this time with a shy smile, and nodded. I gathered him up and held him. My heart leapt with joy when I felt his arms go around my waist and he laid his head against my chest. He didn't seem to be in any rush to let go so I laid my cheek on the top of his head. His hair was so soft, and I could smell the scent of his shampoo. 

I don't know how long we stood there like that but we were startled by the sound of someone softly clearing their throat from the doorway. 

Dan let go quickly as though we'd been caught doing something more than just hugging, and he was blushing furiously once more as his mother smiled at us. I couldn't help but notice that she had the same, sweet smile as her son.

"I'm sorry to bother you guys, but Dan, it's after ten and you have to get up at 5 for work tomorrow," she said apologetically.

" 'K," he replied quietly, still blushing though the intensity of the color had faded somewhat.

Without another word, his mother turned and went back downstairs.

I was surprised when he took me by the hand and we followed in his mother's footsteps. Neither his parents or his little brother were in sight. We stopped at the door where he helped me put my jacket on, even going so far as to zip it up for me. 

When he finally looked at me, I saw another of his sweet smiles. "Goodnight, Jonah," he said quietly as he held out his hand for me to shake.

I grinned back at him and took his hand. "Goodnight, Daniel. Sweet dreams."

He opened the door for me and watched to make sure I made it to the car safely. He waited until he heard the engine start then with a final wave and a smile he closed the door. I drove away with a huge grin on my face, and a full feeling in my heart.

I knew definitely that this was the man for me, and I looked forward to the next time I would be able to see him.

Daniel and Jonah Part 5

Chapter 5

Monday came around and I waited to see if he would come in. There was no sign of him in the morning but he did arrive just a little before the lunch hour rush. He put his backpack and coat in his usual spot and came to the counter.

"Good afternoon, Dan!" I greeted him with a smile, "The usual?"

Quietly, he ordered a sandwich and soda, once again avoiding eye contact with me. I kept my smile on my face but it was a fight as my heart felt as though it had dropped into my stomach. Had he decided he didn't want to go out with me again?

Just then he shyly slid a piece of paper across the counter. He seemed reluctant to release it at first but finally let it go. He was blushing and his breathing was a bit shallow. I was glad that the first of the afternoon customers hadn't arrived yet because I didn't think I could have kept that smile plastered on for much longer. I picked up the paper, fully expecting it to be one of those, 'I like you, but...' letters. Instead, it contained a list of the days and hours that he'd been scheduled for the week. I slowly let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Before I could say anything, the bell at the door rang and several people came in. I gave Dan's order to one of my assistants and leaned toward him with a genuine smile. "I'll bring your food to you when it's ready Dan."

He nodded and went to sit down while I greeted the newcomers and took their orders. I don't think I've ever worked so fast in my life, but I managed to take the orders while my assistants worked hard to accurately fill every one as quickly as possible. Gesturing to Abby, who had finished her last customer and was taking a short breather, to take over the register for a moment, I took Dan's food over to him, as promised. Although it had been a little longer wait than I'd anticipated he had sat patiently, reading yet another book and furiously taking notes as he read.

"Here you go, Daniel," I announced softly so as not to startle him. Despite my care, he did jump a little. With a blush, he closed the notebook and hid the book he'd been reading beneath the table.

I sat down across the table from him and jokingly asked him, "Reading the Kama Sutra?"

His expression was completely blank, but despite the short time in which I'd actually known him, I was beginning to be able to read him a little easier. Right now I interpreted his lack of expression to mean that he had no clue what I was talking about, so I tried a different tactic.

"You know what I used to do when I was a kid still in grammar school? I'd hide a comic book or some other thin book inside my texts, and I'd read those instead of the assignment we'd been given," I chuckled.

For some reason, his expression turned stony and he once again refused eye contact with me. I quickly apologized if I'd offended him.

"In high school, in the special ed class I was stuck in, we were given first-grade stuff to read, like we were stupid or something," he replied with an edge to his voice. "it finally got to the point where we all just refused to do the work any more. We wanted to learn at grade level, but they wouldn't let us. They didn't think we were capable."

He stopped there as he calmed himself and gathered his thoughts, and then continued after a short pause, "We'd have given anything to be working at our grade level and not treated like imbeciles. There was only one teacher in high school who tried, but by then it was too late to learn anything. She made sure that I was put in mainstream classes because she believed that I was capable of learning so much more. She's the only teacher I ever liked."

"So the thought of me ignoring my studies to fool around rather than learn upsets you," I guessed in a quiet voice.

He nodded once, abruptly.

"I'm sorry, Dan. I had no idea." Once again I could feel the heat of shame climb from my shirt collar and into my cheeks. It was amazing what I'd taken for granted when kids like Dan had been treated badly and thought so little of by the people who were supposed to be teaching them.

"Dan?" I began gently, "I don't want to pry, but didn't your parents say anything to them?"

"I never told them," he replied quietly, his hands clenched on the table top.

I was silent for several moments, taking it all in. Were all autistic children taught below their grade level? Would there be something about it on the internet? It just floored me that someone so intelligent could have been thought of, or treated as anything other than a bright human being.

"I was in the BDLC class, even though every teacher I had said that I didn't have a behavioral problem, because they didn't have the facilities to deal with an autistic person. My mother tried to get me into a school especially for kids like me, but the state refused to pay for it and we're... well... we're not exactly rich and my parents couldn't afford to send me there, so I got stuck where I was," he paused again and a definite expression of anger crossed his features.

"I don't want to dredge up bad memories, Dan, but what does BDLC stand for?"

"Behavior Disorder Learning Center," he explained quietly. When I didn't reply he continued.

"One of my aunts told my mother that she should send me away and put me in some kind of home," his voice was tight once again, "she had no idea that I was nearby and could hear every word. I was really young at the time but old enough to understand what she meant. I just stood there. I thought I was going to cry. I was just about to go into my bedroom when my mother told her off. She told my aunt to deal with her own five little terrors before she passed judgment on me, and then said sure, she'd send me off to that place, as long as the family could find a house and jobs nearby, and provided that I was allowed to come home every night. This was kind of early on when no one was really sure what was going on with me. My mother brought me to doctor after doctor. She knew something was off but had no idea what."

"One doctor said I was psychotic. I was five at that time," he paused here and took another deep breath before speaking again but I could see that he was trembling. I put my warm hands over his clenched ones and squeezed them lightly. 

"When I was about seven, another doctor that mom brought me to said that I was just a spoiled brat and mom should stick me in the corner when I acted out," here he stopped a moment and chuffed a laugh, "mom asked me to go into the waiting room while she spoke to the nice doctor, but I could hear through the door when she told the woman off. I wish I could remember what exactly she said, but the woman was speechless by the time we left. I can remember that incident because mom is allergic to peaches."

I looked, confused, at Daniel until he realized he'd lost me and explained.

"She'd eaten something that contained peach the night before and was covered in hives. By the time we left, the hives were bright red she was so mad."

"One doctor even asked mom if she'd be upset if she told her that there was nothing wrong with me. I can remember it like it was yesterday. She stood and gathered me up and started for the door, then she turned around and said, 'Miss Sorensen, you notice I didn't bother to try to call you doctor, you don't deserve the title.' I don't really remember what she said after that because the words were too big for me to get, you know? And she spelled some of them out," he laughed again at the memory, "yep, she was pretty good at leaving people with their mouths hanging open."

I grinned at the pictures he painted for me. I hadn't met the lady of the house yet, but I was of mixed feelings about it. On one hand, she sounded like a lioness, and on the other, she sounded like something of a nut, and I worried which one I'd run into when I finally did meet her.

"When were you finally diagnosed, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I was about eleven, and mom brought me to another place. She had already sent in this huge envelope full of papers for the doctor and she had another folder full of more papers. Stuff from my teachers and things like that. I was worried that they'd said I was just a bad kid, you know?  I was afraid that he'd read the stuff from them and decide that he didn't like me too. I was a little scared because he wouldn't let her come into the office with me but the guy was ok. We talked a lot, and we played some board games. Then after about an hour, he asked me to go to the waiting room and ask my mother to go in. That's when he finally told her that based on all the paperwork and his interview with me that I had Asperger's Syndrome."

The light switch finally turned on in my head. "Which falls under the autism spectrum," I said, mostly to myself, hoping that I'd read and understood the sites I'd scrolled through.

"I guess so. My sister is on the spectrum but she always got mad when mom would make her go to therapy and she wouldn't cooperate, so she got to stop going. My little brother is autistic as well." He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh, "When I'd go to therapy, I'd say stuff, mostly to shock them to get a reaction, but instead of them saying they couldn't help me in therapy they made me go more often. So I guess I kind of bit myself in the butt there."

"I was in speech therapy, and this therapy and that therapy... back then I hated it but I guess it helped some, now that I think about it."

"Hey, Jonah?" Abby called from the counter, "I'm really sorry but... we could kind of use your help up here?"

Dan and I both looked up to see a harried looking Abby and my other assistants working at a feverish pace to fill the orders. I knew they could handle it but I also knew that I was there to work, not sit and chat with Dan, as much as I wanted to.

"Be right there!" I called before turning to Daniel with a sheepish grin, "Gotta get back to work my friend, when do you get out tonight?"

"I'm off today," he replied, "I just came in to give you my schedule. Thanks for taking it and not throwing it away."

It touched me that he'd gone out of his way just to give me his schedule. "Hang tight then. When the rush is over we can talk more, alright?"

He half shrugged his shoulder and in that quiet voice replied, "You'd better get back to work. I don't want you to get into trouble."

I grinned at him and made a beeline back to the counter where I helped the crew take and fill orders. It was hectic for a couple of hours, nothing out of the ordinary but I found myself slightly resenting all of these people for keeping me away from my Daniel. I smiled and greeted everyone as usual, but I felt something that I would describe as withdrawal at being taken away from him.  I've never actually gone through any sort of withdrawal but I've heard stories, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach echoed those feelings I'd been told about.

When the rush was finally over at three I took a deep breath and let it out, something all of us were doing it seemed. I looked into the corner where my Daniel had been sitting only to find him gone. Once again, my heart sank into my stomach region. I wondered if he'd be back, then I remembered that he'd given me his schedule. 

After we cleaned the area, Abby and Mick went around the front of the counter where some of the tables were and sank down onto the chairs, looking as though they were half asleep already. Luckily the rest of the day would be relatively calm, and even the going home crowd wouldn't be as bad as lunch time.

Gerry had headed to the back where a couch and two comfy chairs were situated. He curled up on the couch, much to Mikah's displeasure since 'everyone knew' that was her spot. But being the smallest and most resourceful of the bunch, she jumped up and landed in the space left by his bent knees, put her legs up on him and closed her eyes. Gerry never moved a muscle. 

Cheree and Enzio gladly sank down into the overstuffed chairs that flanked the couch, and put their heads back, our premade lunches were momentarily forgotten in the refrigerator.

I turned the open sign to closed and locked the door so that the lot of us could rest and eat before the 'going home' crowd came in for their last minute cups of coffee. As a general rule, the stores in my little plaza all closed at six, though some of us would stay open a little later for special occasions, but I had no intention of staying open late this evening, for any reason.  

In somewhat messy print he had written not only his schedule but his full name, which I'd never known, his address and his telephone number. I had a hard time keeping my heart, which had sunk just moments before, from leaping with joy right out of my chest. Although I was just as tired as the rest of them, and my stomach was growling loudly, I went upstairs to my office and called the number.

A pleasant female voice answered the phone.

"Mrs. Johnson?"

"Speaking," came the cheerful sounding response.

"Hi, my name is Jonah. Jonah McIntyre. I'm a friend of Daniel's. Is he home by any chance?"

The silence that followed made me wonder if we'd somehow gotten disconnected, until I heard her pleasant, soft voice say, "Hold on, please." I knew that she put her hand over the phone but I could still hear her call, "Danny! Dan! Phone call!" There was a short pause before I heard my name mentioned. It was only seconds later when Daniel apparently took the phone from his mother's hand. I could hear him say, "Stop smiling at me like that." 

By the disgruntled tone of his voice, I could tell exactly what look she was giving him. It was a good thing we weren't in the same room or else I knew I'd start laughing. It was several more moments before he actually answered the phone. I could hear a door shut and the springs of his bed as he settled down onto it.

"Hi Jonah," he finally said, "how was the lunch rush?"

"Like a chicken coop at feeding time," I joked.

There was silence at his end and I wondered if he'd ever seen a chicken coop let alone a chicken that didn't come wrapped in plastic.

"Ever see someone feeding the birds and they all come flocking around trying to get a bit?" I asked.

"Yeah," he finally replied, "me and mom used to like to feed the ducks at the park until the seagulls started flying at them and stealing the bread."

"Well then, the lunch rush was like trying to feed a flock of seagulls." I laughed.

"Seagulls attacked me, mom, and my sister one day when we were walking to the mall. We had a bag of cheese puffs," he replied seriously, "mom put her jacket over our heads and threw the bag somewhere behind us and we ran the rest of the way to the mall. Mom was afraid that we were going to get hurt it was so bad."

I wasn't sure because of the lack of tonality in his voice, but I thought I could hear a hint of a rebuke in there.  This conversation wasn't going the way I'd imagined it at all.

"Well," I rallied, "it was hectic but we made it. So, what did you do after you left the store today?"

"I worked on a painting," he replied quietly.

"You paint? That's great, Dan." I said with a smile, "I do a little sketching but I'm terrible with color so my stuff is usually all done in pencil. What do you like to paint?"

"Whatever's on my mind."

"What was on your mind today? Can I ask?"

"Just stuff."

"Do you think I can see some of your paintings someday?"

Once again there was a brief silence before he answered, "I'm not very good. My paintings are kind of abstract. I don't think a lot of people would get it. I'm pretty sure no one would like them."

"Dan, have you ever heard the song, 'If You Wanna Sing Out, Sing Out?' "

"I can't sing. My brother says I sound like a dying moose."

I caught myself before I could allow the laughter that welled up inside of me out.  "I don't sing well either," I admitted, "what I mean is, the song is basically about doing your own thing and not worrying about what other people think." I sang a couple of bars, knowing that my voice sounded uncertain as I tried to remember the words, not to mention that I was self-conscious as well.

"You don't sing that bad," he replied. I could hear the confusion in his voice. I was becoming very good at hearing and interpreting the various tones that did come out on occasion.

"Well, I'll never win any talent shows," I joked, "but I can manage a little bit now and then. The point is, I like to sing, at least when I'm alone," I added with a laugh, "so if you like to paint, then paint. Paint what you think. Paint what you feel, and don't worry what other people think, got it?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"So... can I ask what you painted today?"

"The Archangel Michael."

"Sounds impressive! What else have you painted?" I took a moment to smile and nod my thanks to Abby who had brought me a sandwich and a cup of coffee.

Dan went on to describe some of his paintings, his voice becoming slightly uncertain the more he spoke. 

"Now you've really got me curious," I replied, "someday, maybe soon, you'll let me see some of them? Please? The one of St. Peter sounds fascinating." 

If it were possible to hear a shrug over the phone I'm sure I would have heard Dan doing it just then. 

"Whenever you're ready to share, ok?"

He replied in the affirmative and then went silent again.

"Anyway, Dan, the reason I called is because we both have Sunday off, and I thought we could go see a movie... your treat, I promise. Anything particular in mind?"

"There's a documentary on the Battle of Gettysburg that I was going to watch on Sunday, do you mind if we do that, then we can go and see a movie another night?"

"That sounds perfect, I didn't know you were into history," I replied, it sounded as though it would be a great night.

"My father studied archaeology in college and I always had a fascination with history. I never went on any digs but my father used to take me to the dinosaur museum when I was a kid. He'd also take me to the airplane museum and I'd see all the old planes there."

"It's a date then. I'll bring the popcorn," I joked.

As I was beginning to find out, Dan was a very literal person and he replied, "We have popcorn here. And soda. Like my mother says, 'Just bring yourself. That'll be plenty.'"

I couldn't help but to chuckle, despite his earlier stories his mother sounded like very down to earth person and I liked that. Suddenly his voice was muffled and I thought perhaps the connection had gone bad. 

"Dan. Dan?" I asked, "Are you still there?"

His voice returned to normal and he said, "Mom asked me to ask you to come to dinner on Sunday. Are you ok with that?"

He sounded a little bit nervous so I assured him immediately that I'd love to go. He told me the time and gave me his address once again. "Do you like spaghetti?" he asked, "If you don't mom said she'd make something different. We're going to use my grandma's sauce. She visited and dropped off a big jar of it. It's homemade and it's a real treat for us."

"Can't wait," I replied with a grin, "see you then."

Daniel and Jonah Part 4

As soon as I arrived home I threw my jacket on the back of a chair and sped toward my computer where I typed in 'Autism'. There were so many sites I had no idea of where to start first. Finding a guaranteed safe site I began to read. 

The more I read, the more guilty I felt. I could feel the sensation crawling up my neck to my ears and into my cheeks. If it had been humanly possible for a man to catch fire that way, I would have gone up in flame. 

As I read on I realized that I had known kids who had fit the description in the article. I hadn't had a word to apply to them before, other than Space Cadet, but the fact was that I may have known at least a couple of kids with autism. While I hadn't treated them badly myself, I had never stopped anyone else from doing it, and now I felt like a complete heel.  If that was how my Daniel had been treated, then I could see why he was so shy. I could feel the guilt settle in my stomach. 

I'd been brought up in a strict religious household and still attended church now and again, though mostly to please my parents than anything else, and I found myself offering up a quick but heartfelt prayer for forgiveness.

Memories flooded back as I listened once again as the kids called these others who just didn't seem to fit in anywhere, the quiet ones, the shy ones, the socially awkward ones terrible names, tripped them up in the hallway between classes, slapped gum in their hair or painted their chairs with ink, causing them to ruin their clothes. I'd always looked away whenever I'd seen one of these poor kids walking around with a giant ink stain on the backs of their pants or skirts, knowing that they were most likely feeling mortified but were unable to do anything about it either until their parents could come with clean clothes or the day ended and they could go home.

I could only count on one hand how many of the 'misfit' kids I'd run across in my lifetime, but I felt ashamed that I'd never done anything before to help them. To be honest, like so many of the others, I think I'd been afraid that if I'd spoken up I would have ended up being a target myself, a pretty poor reason I could see in hindsight.

I hadn't been a popular kid, nor had I been a spaz or a nerd... I felt the heat of shame flush my face again when I thought of those words... even now, using those labels came automatically. I'd just been one of the average guys. Average looks. A little taller, and a hair better built than some due to working at my uncles' welding shop but nothing like the football players or wrestlers at school. Not handsome or athletic enough to be considered one of the popular guys, slightly better than average grades, but not enough for anyone to label me a nerd... an incredibly intelligent person, I corrected myself.  And I had friends. Just a handful but I'd always believed it was quality rather than quantity, and my friends were the best guys I knew.

I sat back and sighed. Had he had friends while in school? Or had people made fun of him and been cruel to him? He'd admitted that he'd had issues. I wondered what they were and if there were any way I could help him at this late date. I made a promise to myself to do everything I could for him. 

The more I read, the more I thought about my Daniel. I stopped for a moment to laugh at myself, already thinking of him as mine when I barely knew anything about him or visa versa, but then the guilt was back in force. How many people, I wondered, had simply dismissed him, ignored him when he was in distress. It said right in the article that I was reading that autistic children were often easy prey for bullies who didn't know and most likely wouldn't care if they had known. I made a promise to myself that no one would ever hurt him again as long as I was around.