A Sweaty Guy - Homeless in Hawaii

April 2004


6.

Jessica comes back to bed and I get up to use the bathroom and to sneak another dose of cough syrup. I return to bed, where Courtney's just looking up at the ceiling.

She looks at me and again says, "Hiii Joooe." Jessica tells her, in a mock gruff voice, to go to sleep. The three of us lie quietly for a while, with Samantha sleeping on the floor next to the bed. I'm facing Jessica whose eyes are open; Courtney’s on the other side of her mom, but I can’t see her face.

Seeing Courtney looking up at me had surely been enough to kill my hard-on, but it was already a struggle for me to keep it up. Unusual for me. Could the DXM, that I've been constantly using since my trip to the mainland, be causing this? I know I’m sweating more than I usually do (and I'm a sweaty guy). The seeping, sopping sweat is a distraction from lovemaking; so are all the brightly colored images flashing through my head.

In the dark, or whenever I close my eyes, I see bright squiggly lines and geometric shapes, like I did years ago when I used to drop acid. While I enjoy this show when I'm just lying in bed, it does seem to get in the way of my sexual pleasure. I wonder if Jessica can tell I’m high on something, but then I realize she has other things on her mind right now.

Staring at the ceiling, Jessica talks about how angry she is with all the doctors, the psychologists, and the school system. Courtney was autistic, they had told her. But now the autism diagnosis has come into question.

While I was on the mainland, Jessica had taken Courtney to a specialist. His tests confirmed that Courtney has a condition known as Rett Syndrome. Rett Syndrome is a genetic condition which is often misdiagnosed as autism; it almost exclusively affects girls. Children with Rett Syndrome develop typically for the first couple of years, then their skill development slows and eventually regresses. So, a girl with Rett may begin to walk and talk in their first year or 18 months, and then begin to lose these skills.

Many of the features of Rett Syndrome are similar to Autism (e.g. communication deficits, screaming fits, hand flapping), however, where children with Autism almost always prefer objects to people, girls with Rett, including Courtney, prefer people to objects and seem to enjoy affection.

As I try to comfort her, I think about all the dreams and aspirations I have for my own daughter; I try to imagine the despair of losing those hopes.

Jessica is a loving mother to both of her daughters. She's patient and consistent. Courtney who usually seems happy benefits from her care and attentiveness; I tell her all this. Unfortunately, I can't think of much else to say that might be reassuring. I've read up on the subject since Jessica told me that Courtney was being tested. I point out that ten-year-old Courtney has maintained many skills that other girls with her condition lose (or have never gained) by her age. Courtney is still walking and, though she has a limited vocabulary, talking. I realize that the best I can do for her is just hold her.

I think back on my trip to Minneapolis; it was fun, but Hawaii really is home for me. I miss Shea the most right after our visits, but it's consoling to be around Jessica and her daughters. Courtney and Samantha are really fun kids, even if Courtney has just interrupted our lovemaking. I’ve spent several overnights with Jessica and her girls since returning from Minneapolis and things seem to be going well. Sure, she’s made some comments that she doesn’t want to move too fast, but I know she’s the one for me. I crave her company and come over almost day after work to hang out with her and the girls. I try to be helpful by keeping them occupied while Jessica works in her room pricing jewelry for her kiosk.

Eventually Jessica interrupts the silence to tell me about a dream she'd had. "It's like you were stalking me." I wonder if she’s just a little superstitious or maybe she’s suspicious about how I’d just happened to run into her at her workplace when I first asked her out. Or, it crosses my mind, she might really be psychic.

I quietly begin to panic. She’s just ended a relationship with the father of her girls. It’s been less than two months since we started seeing each other and I'm trying to spend every moment I can with her. It occurs to me that my feelings are out of proportion with how well I know her. No, I really do love her...I think. It doesn't matter, I’m in love with the idea of her.

I try to reassure her. I apologize for pushing the relationship when she's made it clear that she wants to take it slow. I agree to give her some space.

While I lay awake, watching oceans of ever expanding purple and green checkerboards behind my eyelids, I think about my past relationships with women. Am I always the needy one? Not always...usually. I’ve pretty much stopped going to those 12 step meetings. I don’t see how they can really help me. They just make me feel guilty about drinking cough syrup. Now there’s something that seems to help. I feel more outgoing, more creative, more lucid even than I do without it. It gives me a good buzz and I stay in control.

It occurs to me that Jessica may have noticed physical or behavioral changes in me and I resolve to be careful how much DXM I take. She's never seen me drinking alcohol and doesn't really believe I have a problem. To her it's simply a matter of self-control. I think to myself that maybe if I had a few beers now and then I wouldn't have to use so much DXM and maybe some cough syrup in moderation will help me to keep my drinking in check.