THE SCENT OF A WOMAN, THE MIND OF A CHIILD

THE SCENT OF A WOMAN, THE MIND OF A CHILD. BY MATTHEW LUCAS BECKETT. “Of course I want Chad, Ryan and Nathanial to come to my sixteenth Birthday Party,” screamed Melisa. “Why wouldn't I. They're my friends.” Her mother and I looked at one another, trying to think how to explain. Fortunately, our show returned at that moment and by the next commercial our daughter had calmed down but appeared not to want to talk about it anymore, so we dropped it for the evening. But,, of course, once our daughter was in bed, it was not something Sara and I could just drop, because we knew Melisa wouldn't drop it in the week that still remained before the party. “David,” said Sara. “I don't know what to do. I know she's been friends with them since she was five years old,, but. . .” she broke off hopelessly. “But she still looks at their relationship like she did when she was five, with her unusual form of mild autism, while they all three look at her as teenage boys look at attractive teenage girls, like I did at you when we were that age.” “Not that I don't still,” I quickly added. “I'm much too worried about our daughter to worry about that David,” Sara snapped. “Right, Sara,” I say, not knowing what else to say. “What are we going to do,though,?” asked Sara a bit more calmly. “She's not exactly a child any more, and we can't just say 'because we say so' and expect that to work on someone with her level intelligence. I mean, she is as sharp as a tack.” I laugh. “A tack doesn't even come close for a girl that was reading Tolkien in Kindergarten and doing Graduate Level Math by Second Grade. But you're right, without the treatment for her autism that the State will no longer pay for since The Supreme Court ruled that The Americans With Disabilities Act only applies to Federal Programs, and which we can't afford on our own, we can't have boys around her with no adult supervision, and I know she doesn't want us intruding on her big day.” However, no answers spring to mind, and we are both tired, so we table the matter for the night and go to bed. However, the next day Melisa has not dropped it, and since the invitations need to go out at least a few days in advance, the matter really must be resolved. “I want them at my Party,” she repeats. “Chad's my best friend, and the others are good friends too,” she says as we drive her to school. “Why do you want me to not have my friends to my big party?” “We'll discuss it tonight at dinner,” Sara finally said, earning a nod from Melisa and a sigh of relief from me. “That buys us a little time,” I said after we dropped off Melisa and headed for my office. However, by the time Sara dropped me off and headed for her own job, we still had not figured anything out. “So,”said Melisa that night as we sat down. “Are you going to tell me why I can't invite three of my closest friends to my biggest Birthday ever, or do I get to invite them?” I sigh. Sara and I have tried it every way we can think of, and we can't find a way to tell her know without having a talk we both know emotionally she is not ready for, despite her brilliant mind and quite developed body. I look at Sara, who returns my hopeless stare and then nods. “All right,” I finally say. “You can invite Chad, Ryan and Nathanial, but no other boys,” I finally said. She gave a joyous shout and leaped from her chair. “Yes. I'll go get the invitations ready right. . .” “Finish your dinner first, dear,” said Sara. Melisa sat back down and shoveled the food into her mouth until it was all gone, then dashed off to prepare and email her invitations. “One bright spot,” I said to Sara as we clean up the kitchen after finishing our own dinner. “There are really only two boys we need to worry about.” “How is that?” snapped Sara. “She's inviting three.” “Yes,” I admitted. “But I'm pretty sure that Ryan is gay. He's certainly never looked at her like Chad and Nathanial do.” Sara thought a moment, then nodded. “I think you're right, David, from other things as well as that. But Chad and Nathanial we'll have to find a way to watch closely.” I nodded, and then we started planning how we could surreptitiously do this. And now, the day of the party is at hand. Several of Melisa's female friends arrive first, then Chad, then some more girls, then Ryan, then three more girls, then Nathanial and then the last girls. I do not like the way that Chad and Nathanial look at Melisa, but I was right that Ryan looks at Chad and Nathanial more than any of the girls,whom he only seems to look at when he sees someone looking at him. Once everyone is in, I close and lock the font door and then, after a pointed look from Melisa, Sara and I go upstairs to give her some privacy. “Some privacy,” says Sara as we both keep our ears to the door, listening for anything amiss that could require quick action. Everything sounds normal at first, kids running around, laughing, playing typical party games, but then. . . “Let's play Spin The Bottle,” says Chad, and we hear a chorus of ascent. Sara and I groan. “Since it's her Party,” says Sara. “All of the other girls will make sure she gets it, thinking that that's doing her a favor, and she won't understand any of it.” “Our only hope,” I say. “Is that Ryan gets the other end.” “Nathanial, no, what are you doing,” we hear our daughter scream ten seconds later. “Apparently not,” says Sara, already at the door. Ten seconds later, we burst into the party room to find all of the other girls off to one side, as we expected, Chad and Ryan making out, ,which I at least had not expected, and Nathanial on top of Melisa, who is on the floor crying. Broken glass is everywhere. Sara and I both rush towards our daughter to pry Nathanial off of her, but before we can reach her, she screams. “I DON'T UNDERSTAND. What did I do wrong with the game, Nathanial? I didn't mean to cheat. I'm sorry. They never taught me this game in therapy, so I didn't know that I was supposed to move when the bottle started spinning. So stop punishing. . .” Nathanial silences her by forcing his lips onto hers, but right as they are about to make contact, Melisa sucks in a huge breath and holds it, a frequent response of hers to pain. Nathanial's lips, however, stay on her lips until I pry them off, and by then she has been holding her breath for more than a minute, and Melisa's skin is already starting to change color. Sara runs to call 911, and I start CPR, but it is too late, and at the hospital she is pronounced dead on arrival. Just before they seal her in the body bag, one last time I hold in my arms the daughter whose autism made her life not worth caring about, according to some on the political so called right.