Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Sloan grabbed my hand and squeezed it a little. “But we know some words aren’t all right, don’t we? I can get behind the confusion on terminology that seems to change very frequently, but is there ever an excuse to use the r-word?”
I grinned faintly. “I don’t need an excuse, Daddy, and I can be very crass myself. You should hear Lane and me talk when we’re alone. But we love each other and share the same sense of humor. We still think it’s important to be mindful of our audience and our surroundings.”
He smiled ruefully. “You use the r-word together, don’t you?”
“All the time!” I laughed. “Because intentions…? Lane could never hurt me with a socially unacceptable word.” I slid my gaze to Archie. “Just like you could never hurt me by accidentally calling autism an illness or whatever. I hear disability is a bad word to some, and I just… You wanna call me differently abled? Go ahead. It’s silly to me. To others, it might be a huge deal, but in my eyes, it looks like we’re trying to downplay the struggles many of us face, in the name of making autism more normal and okay. As if it’s not okay to have struggles.”
This was why I shied away from the online debate. I created my posts and started discussions, where both Lane and I participated, but as soon as someone tried to police everyone’s approach and language, I lost my energy. And I wouldn’t even consider jumping into a discussion on the matter of mental health outside of my own bubble. Twitter was bonkers!
“Technically, I have a disability,” I said matter-of-factly. “I struggle with certain things that neurotypical people don’t. And that’s okay, darn it all.” I paused. “Tell you what, Lane can call me a retard a million times and not hurt me a fraction of how my math teacher hurt me in middle school. He meant well—he really did—but when I tried to explain my autism to him, because he asked, he would try to smooth things over. Like, oh, but it’s not that bad. You don’t have a problem. You’re just different, Corey. And I was like, uh, no, I actually do have a problem, which I need help with, but thanks for not hearing a word of what I said. Meanwhile, my retard of a cousin will drop everything if I’m upset and do his darnedest to understand. Just like I will do with him.” I coughed and suddenly felt like I’d exposed myself way too much. “So, um, thanks for coming to my TED Talk, and in case you didn’t know, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”
Sloan laughed softly and pulled me in for a hug, and I instantly felt better. It was insane. All the pressure that’d built up during my ramble drained out of me.
I exhaled and kissed his arm.
“I never thought of it that way,” he murmured against my hair. “The number one priority should always be to keep the discussion going.”
Exactly.
“I feel the need to repeat that you should be so fucking proud of your work,” Archie told me. “You may see what, in your opinion, are poorly drawn cartoons, but look at what they’re doing. The conversations you keep alive through their voices. It’s incredible.”
I grinned bashfully and buried my face in Sloan’s armpit, which he thought was funny. “Thank you,” I mumbled.
Daddy peppered the top of my head with kisses. “My cuddle monkey. We have a birthday celebration to plan.”
“Oh, please leave that to me,” Archie said. “What’s your favorite dessert in the whole world, Corey?”
“Breath mints? Spearmint flavor!” I lifted my head and smiled goofily. I was only half serious! “I love cupcakes?” I had no idea why I phrased that as a question. “Cupcakes with dark chocolate and buttercream frosting.” Oh, yummm.
“Excellent.” He hauled out his phone. “I’ll send you a list of things I need while you’re out, Sir.”
I glanced up at Daddy. “You mentioned errands…”
He inclined his head. “We’re spending the night in Mclean tomorrow, so I have to pick up a few things. We’re babyproofing the cabin for Kyla, and we need some tools for the temporary club area.”
That sounded like fun! I loved their cabin. Greer had filled it with books and comfy, mismatched furniture and blankets. I hadn’t seen the sleep loft with my own eyes yet, but the downstairs would make anyone believe they were in a log cabin somewhere in the snowcapped mountains.
All six Founders’ A-frame cabins were lined up along the edge behind the main house in Mclean, and in the winter, it was so cozy to see the smoke coming from the chimneys. With the forest in the background, kink on your mind, every breath misting in the air, seeing a hot Sadist or two step out onto their porch with a cup of coffee…