Chapter 15
Fifteen
Colin
18 Years Old
“You seem less downcast today.” Dr. Thomlinson clipped a sheet of paper onto his clipboard and paused. The pause was so long that Colin shifted in his cracked leather chair and started to feel his fingers too much again. His psychiatrist wasn’t usually one to cause discomfort. From the time Walker had made therapy mandatory for Colin and all his siblings after the death of their parents, Dr. Thomlinson had usually been a mellow person to be around, with his Bible Belt accent and soft demeanor. Nothing in his office was loud or invasive. The plants lining the bay window were a comforting range of greens, with ethereal rays of sunshine hitting them like tiny rainbows through Colin’s glasses when he tilted his head just right. Some of the rays were hitting the desk near the window, and he followed them for a bit, tilting his head from side to side to watch them dance across leaves and cherry oak.
“Am I supposed to respond to that?” Colin finally asked when the silence outweighed the visuals in the room. “It wasn’t a question, just a general statement.”
Thomlinson hummed and nodded. “You are correct. It wasn’t a question, but usually I find I can make a statement like that and my patients will immediately confirm or deny my observation. I frame the statement like a question by making the end higher in pitch.”
“So if I go ‘you’re wearing blue today,’” Colin upturned the end of his statement like a question. “Do you then immediately tell me why you’re wearing blue?”
“I might be inclined to.” Thomlinson smiled. “Let me frame it as a question. Are you in high spirits? If so, why?”
“I am.” Colin sat up straighter. “I made a friend. I’m tutoring her in AP Chemistry, and I also lost my virginity to her yesterday. We‘re meeting again after school.” There was a choked sort of coughing sound from his therapist, and Colin’s eyes widened in alarm. “Do you need water?”
With a shake of his head and a clearing of his throat, Dr. Thomlinson clicked his pen. “I apologize. The way you delivered that news felt abrupt, and I wasn’t prepared. You hadn’t previously mentioned any romantic interests despite that being high on the list of priorities for someone your age.”
That was true, Colin hadn’t mentioned it before, but there wasn’t yet anything of note until recently. “Isn’t it normal to have some sort of dramatic change right now? Carter keeps skipping class and forging Walker’s signature on absence slips, and Piper dated the worst guy imaginable from our high school, got drunk at a party, and had to throw his keys into a bush when he was going to drive her home drunk. All of that seems way worse than me liking someone and wanting to have sex with her.”
“Grief doesn’t present the same way with everyone,” Dr. Thomlinson said simply. “So, this girl is a romantic interest, then? Not just a friend, as you said earlier?”
“Currently she’s a friend with benefits sort of person,” Colin explained. “We were talking about science and the conversation fell into her saying she wished she could take the guesswork out of sex like we do with science. For example, someone would turn a certain age, then medical professionals would run some blood work and come back with a profile of your sexuality, what you like, dislike, et cetera.”
“Intriguing.”
“I thought it was a great idea, so I said that I would create a chart of sorts so when I did end up having sex, I could track my progress and performance. And then Scarlett—” Colin bit his tongue. “Shit, I wasn’t going to tell you her name because we agreed to keep this quiet so that people at school wouldn’t make mean comments.”
“Unless you are a danger to yourself or others, I’m legally bound to confidentiality and will not share anything from our sessions with anyone.” Dr. Thomlinson crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands atop his clipboard. “You are also a legal adult now, so I don’t even have to inform your uncle about medications or diagnoses.”
“Are you planning on prescribing me anything?” Colin asked.
“Let us continue on with your explanation, and then we will discuss further action with your care.”
The answer seemed like a blatant skirting around the question Colin had asked, and he could feel the anxiety in his bones from the not knowing. “Scarlett and I then decided to conduct the experiment ourselves because she was also a virgin. The experiment is going well barring a few mishaps, and I’m enjoying myself. I have received all the pros from a release of endorphins, oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin, and other hormones I’ve read about in research books on sex and relationships. Oxytocin the most out of anything, I think, because I’m experiencing strong affection toward her.” The words flew out of his mouth in the quickest explanation possible before he jumped back to his question. “Now, what further action are you implying?”
Thomlinson blinked and then slowly nodded his head. Colin met his eyes for a count of two Mississippi before looking away. “Am I correct in assuming that you sped through that explanation of your newfound relationship because you are too focused on the question I didn’t answer?”
“You still haven’t answered it,” Colin said bluntly. “I don’t enjoy not knowing where things are headed.”
“Right, you stated previously that you love the idea of routine.” Tomlinson scribbled something on his clipboard. “I don’t mean to keep you in suspense, it just seemed like the explanation of your sexual relationship with another person could potentially discredit my thoughts. I now feel fairly confident that they did not. In our future appointments, I would like your permission to evaluate you for Autism Spectrum Disorder.”
Colin snorted with amusement. “They evaluated me for that when I was five. I’m not autistic.”
“It is very hard to assess children, and frequently people are misdiagnosed or underdiagnosed.”
“I didn’t have speech delays,” Colin argued.
“Autism is a spectrum. Not having speech delays used to be associated with something called Asperger’s Syndrome and was a separate diagnosis from Autism Spectrum Disorder, but it was very hard to distinguish between Asperger’s and ASD. Eventually, researchers decided that the two were so similar that they were all under the same umbrella.”
“What are you getting at?” Colin demanded, waving his hand for Dr. Thomlinson to get to the point.
“They removed the diagnosis in 2013, meaning when you were evaluated at five years old with your lack of speech delays, I believe that they most likely would have been looking for Asperger’s or another condition instead of ASD, causing you to be undiagnosed. Often children with ASD who have challenges with social skills seem mature for their age, and I can’t say for certain, but I imagine you would have been written off as someone who was simply intelligent for their age.”
The urge to roll his eyes was strong as Colin remained unperturbed. His mother would have noticed something was wrong with him. Growing up, he never missed a single important appointment. Paisley Hartrick had everything down to a science with her color-coded whiteboard calendar. Once, she had decided that one of Colin’s moles needed to be looked at, and he came down from his room to find a new dermatology appointment on the books. And his father was Colin’s best friend. Out of anyone, Cole Hartrick would have noticed something was off given the amount of time they spent together. The idea that either of his parents would miss something this big was preposterous. Even more preposterous would be getting a diagnosis simply because he went in for grief counseling for his dead parents.
“You realize I’m here to wax poetic about depressing things, right?” Colin asked bitterly. “I didn’t realize a diagnosis was on the table when I came in here to talk about my late parents.”
Thomlinson sighed and then reaffirmed what Colin already knew. “You are definitely here to talk about grief.”
“Okay.”
“But,” Thomlinson drew out the word hesitantly. “If your brain does not work in a neurotypical way, the approach to healing could be quite different.”
“And you think you need this evaluation so you can check ASD off your list and proceed with grief counseling?” Colin raised his eyebrows in a teasing manner, but he was surprised when Thomlinson’s response was short.
“Yes.”
Confident that Dr. Thomlinson wouldn’t find anything, Colin shrugged and said, “Go for it.”
“Great.” Dr. Thomlinson smiled good-naturedly and clicked his pen again. “Now, let’s go back to the sexuality experiment. I don’t want to breeze past this. I at least need to make sure that you’re both being safe.”
“If you mean contraception, we’re doubling up. If you mean consent, I had it and I will obtain it every time,” Colin said in slight irritation. The idea that he would be anything other than thorough when it came to Scarlett’s safety or even his own angered him. He wasn’t a reckless person. “We have a list of rules we stick to and an understanding that we can amend anything on that list whenever we want to to account for changes we didn’t anticipate.”
“Safe sex and consent are important, but that’s not what I was referring to.” Thomlinson set his clipboard back on his desk and folded his hands contemplatively. “You are in a very fragile time in your life, and I want you to be very careful with your heart. A list of rules won’t save you from real emotions when you feel them.”