Chapter 62 #2
Dr. Avery continues. “Temple Grandin is a well-known person who has autism. She also has a very different way of thinking which is unusual because she is primarily a visual thinker. She has often said that she ‘thinks in pictures.’ Not all autistic people are visual thinkers like her—some think more in patterns or in words. But what we do know is that people with autism definitely do have differences in the way they think and process thoughts. This can give them particular strengths or advantages. For example, some great mathematicians attribute their extraordinary numerical skills to the way their brain thinks in patterns.”
After the appointment ends, I step out of the clinic and into the daylight, Avelina by my side. Talking to Dr. Avery has set my mind at ease, plus she has suggested CBT and other strategies that may help me deal with any worries I have.
I’ve spent years wondering why my head flicks to grayscale.
I thought maybe I was going blind, or crazy, or worse.
But now? It almost feels like my brain is protecting me, trimming the edges so I can still move through the chaos without drowning.
Stripped of color, I pay attention to patterns, lines, and movement. The world reduces to what matters most.
I whisper it under my breath, testing how it feels: “Not broken.”
And Avelina looks across at me. I couldn’t have done any of this without her at my side, and she gives me her most beautiful smile—the one that tells me that all is well with the world.
Later, I’m alone in the office when Sofia scampers in, a juice box in her small hand. She stands in front of me, bouncing on her toes as if she has an announcement to make.
She tilts her small head to one side. “You’re very pretty, Viktor.”
I think she means handsome, but I’ll take it, and my chest puffs out a little. “Thanks, Sofia,” I say, having absolutely no idea that my pint-sized bestie is about to destroy me.
She grabs a cushion and the stuffed rhino and plops herself right down in front of me like she’s here to conduct official business.
Her pink skirt poofs out around her, and her extremely fierce expression makes her look like she’s some kind of glittery mob boss.
A boss who smells faintly of apple juice and crayons…
Sofia leans closer, eyes wide and serious. “Viktor,” she whispers, like we’re plotting a heist. “You need to marry Mama.”
I start coughing. Like I might be about to choke. My lungs forget how to work. “Uh…” I cough into my fist. “What?”
She nods solemnly, like I’m the slowest adult alive. “Marry her,” she repeats, “and then we can all live together, you’ll be my daddy, we’ll have pancakes every Sunday, and you and me will be besties forever.”
I swear my heart actually trips over itself. This kid is lethal without even knowing it. Of all the ambushes I might have to face in my life, a seven-year-old talking about a marriage proposal to her mom was definitely not on the list.
“And Mama likes you. She smiles lots when you’re around. Even when you’re grumpy. And you’re grumpy a lot. Not with us. But you are grumpy with your men.”
I wince.
She pats the floor beside her, so I sit down on the floor awkwardly. She offers me a drink from her juice box.
“Uh, I’m okay, thanks,” I mumble. I take a deep breath. “Your mama is my…soulmate.”
Her cute nose crinkles. “What’s a soulmate?”
I look toward the window and think hard about her question. “It’s when…someone’s heartbeat sounds right inside your chest. When their laugh fixes the cracks you didn’t know you had. When you’d walk through fire just to make sure they never cry alone.”
She listens carefully, her small face serious.
“A soulmate,” I continue, my voice softer now, “is someone who feels like home. Even when the whole world goes dark, they’re the light you keep walking toward.”
Sofia nods solemnly. “Then Mama’s lucky.”
My throat tightens. “No, little bird,” I whisper. “I’m the lucky one.”
Then Sofia leans forward until her little nose almost bumps mine. “So, will you marry Mama?”
My throat goes tight.
Really tight.
Because it’s actually something I’ve been thinking about. A lot. I picture Avelina laughing, that beautiful sunshine smile of hers, her soft hair falling into her face, and the way she looks at her kids like they’re her whole world.
“Mama loves you. I love you too.”
My chest feels too tight. I want to ask Avelina to marry me. More than anything. But what if I mess everything up? What if my…differences make marriage difficult and life harder for Avelina and the kids?
“I…” My throat goes dry. I bend my head so we’re eye level. Because this is important. “Sofia, you know that sometimes I do things like you… I don’t like loud noises. Or too many changes. I get…stuck. What if that makes me no good as a husband? And no good as a dad?”
Sofia frowns. “You make me feel safe,” she declares in her solemn, little voice.
“And you make Mama smile like she just got a million hugs.” She spreads her tiny arms wide to demonstrate.
“And like she just saw a huge mountain of ice cream. Ice cream with strawberry sauce and sprinkles.” She nods.
“And that’s all that matters. Because Mama always says being different doesn’t mean you’re broken. ”
My heart stops. Just… stops. The room tilts a little. And something breaks open inside me.
“I…” I clear my throat. “Asking someone to marry me is a very big question. But…it’s one I’d like to ask your mama. But you might just have to give me a little time. And it’ll be our secret for now.”
She clasps her tiny hands together in glee. “Okay, a secret.” And then she gives me a nose boop before scampering out of the office.
The blinds in the office are half closed against the late afternoon sun. Matvey is perched on the windowsill. Nikolai is flicking through a file. And Grigory sits behind the desk, texting his sister.
No one speaks.
I line up the three coasters on the edge of the desk until they’re parallel. Grigory lets me do this. He always has.
He clears his throat. “You sent a message,” he finally prompts, setting his phone down. “You want to talk?”
I hate that word. Talk. I prefer action to words. But Sofia’s book is still where we left it, and the world hasn’t imploded yet, so I have to try to do this…
I clear my throat. “I told Sofia,” I say. “In front of you all.”
“We were there,” Matvey says.
“But you three didn’t…say anything. It was over a week ago, and you still haven’t reacted.”
“Did you want us to throw confetti?” Nikolai asks, deadpan.
“What do you need from us, Vik?” Grigory asks.
The question lands like a weight on top of me.
I look at the coasters to keep my voice from catching. “When we were younger,” I say slowly, “did you know that I wasn’t like you? You know, because of the way I needed things to be a certain way.”
Matvey snorts. “You mean how you alphabetized the crates and stabbed me when we were fifteen because I tried to move a box from B to C?”
“It was a system, Matvey. You were fucking it up.”
“I’m agreeing with you,” he says.
Grigory meets my gaze for a split second. “We knew.”
Nikolai nods. “Maybe not the exact word, but yeah, we knew.”
I make myself look each of them in the eye. “And you don’t mind?”
“Mind what?” Grigory asks.
“That I have…autism.”
Matvey’s expression softens. “Vik, we’ve known you’re you the whole damn time.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Then here’s your answer,” Grigory says, planting his hands on the desk. “No. We don’t mind. We mind when you’re in pain and don’t tell us. We mind when you struggle and don’t let us help.”
Nikolai grunts. “Or when you reorganize the kitchen knives, then watch us whenever we go near them like we might be setting a bomb off.”
“They need to point the same way,” I say in defense of myself.
“Yeah, we learned that eventually,” Nikolai replies.
Matvey comes around the desk. “We were idiots when we were young. We didn’t understand how some of this shit bothers you. But we always knew what mattered, Vik.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“Like you were always there for us,” he says. “You were the first to move when someone else froze. You would keep a promise even if it broke you in half.”
“That you loved hard even if you don’t call it that,” Grigory continues.
“You don’t leave,” Nikolai adds. “You’re loyal as shit. You don’t forgive fuckers who hurt your brothers.” His gaze holds mine. “You are our brother, Viktor. Always.
I make myself breathe. “You don’t think my autism makes me weak?”
Grigory grins. “Viktor, your idea of relaxing is sharpening knives to identical bevels while listening to a thunderstorm. Weak isn’t a word I’d ever apply to you.”
Matvey rubs his jaw. “If anything, it explains why you’re good at what you do. Systems. Discipline.”
Something in my chest shifts. Not a crack. A realignment.
“We didn’t bring it up because we didn’t want you to feel cornered or uncomfortable,” Grigory says. “We figured if you wanted to name it, you would. We already knew what we were looking at.”
“And what were you looking at?”
Grigory doesn’t blink. “The most dangerous man to come outta Russia after me. The most loyal. The one I’d hand my life to without thinking.”
I stare at the blinds. “Sofia asked me to read a book about cats.”
Matvey grins. “It had pictures.”
“It did.” My mouth twitches. “She says her chest gets weird and buzzy if she doesn’t know the plan. So, I’m building her a visual board. To show the day’s schedule.”
Grigory nods. “Great idea.”
I frown at them. “I thought if I said this all in front of you, things would…change between us.”
Nikolai lifts his chin. “You were afraid we’d see you differently. But we don’t. It’s as simple as that.”
“I keep waiting for someone to tell me it’s a defect,” I admit. “That I’m broken.”
Grigory’s expression goes flat. “Anyone who uses those words about you in my fucking house can leave. On their feet if they’re lucky.”
The nods that follow are full of agreement.
“What do you need from us, Vik,” he asks me slowly.
I think about it. “If the room gets loud, I might walk out without warning. I’m not leaving you I’m just…adjusting.”
“Okay.”
“And if I say no touching, it’s not you.”
“We know,” Matvey replies.
I look at each of them, and they look back, not flinching once. Not avoiding my gaze. Not looking ashamed of me. My throat tightens.
“Nothing has changed, Viktor,” Grigory says. “You’re still the same man who walked in here ten minutes ago.”
My shoulders drop a fraction. And it feels like I’ve just stepped onto a frozen lake and realized that the ice is holding and not cracking down the middle. I can balance. And I’m safe.
I exhale. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Grigory echoes. “Now, are we done pretending Matvey didn’t fucking cheat at cards last night?”
Matvey looks offended. “I do not cheat. I adapted.”
“Like a parasite,” Nikolai says.
“Like a winner,” Matvey fires back.
I find myself huffing out something that might be a laugh.
We stand. I straighten the coasters one last time. They let me. And now, I know that they always will.
And as we step into the hall together, I realize the thing I’ve been bracing against isn’t coming.
No one is pulling away.
No one is looking at me like I’m less.
The world didn’t change. I did. I changed. By finally being myself in front of my brothers.