Chapter 1:2 Onto the Next Disaster, Xoxo Nyx

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Somewhere I have enough sense to know that a normal person would have just skipped the bank. I, on the other hand, am even more motivated than less to sit across from a notary before my appointment with Courtney.

See, Aspies like me, can’t deviate from a plan once they make it.

Parts of me may know what a bad idea facing down the man in 1800’s cosplay is, but that nothing compared to the terror of the unknown. Being blind sided or knocked off course are some of the worst things you can do to an autistic.

Whether it’s conscious or not, people like me have to walk through every situation mentally before we move physically, and when a wrench is thrown in that.......

Well it's not pretty.

For me, things like figuring out plans step by step for your day, in the morning with coffee. Mentally taking a drive in your head, planning a shopping trip, or even something as mundane as washing the dishes, became so intrinsic I didn't even know I was doing them.

For most of us. The more we complete a task, the easier and faster that process is, making it nearly impossible to realize how or why we get so upset with deviation, unless we're aware. Paying attention well enough to pinpoint why we go into a conniption fit when disrupted.

Unprecedented situations and surprises are more or less a bonk on the head. Things that make us freeze until we’re able to navigate it, even hypothetically, to get to a desired outcome. My ‘plan’ was to sit across from a notary, then go to my working interview. 

Restarting and resetting my second chance on the one life I have to live without Nicky's interference.

The good Lord knows I have enough weighing against me with the struggle I have figuring what decade I'm in during flashbacks. I also know that no author would be crazy enough to make up a fictional character as ludacris as me.

So while I’m not perfect, or completely sane, I don’t believe myself or my life is some romance novel, like the Hispanic man waiting for me.

Considering neither Nicky nor Jonathan have my new number, it shouldn't be possible to track me. Burner phones can't be traced traditionally, and still the thin man I've been trying to avoid is pacing outside the doors I'm trying to get into in all his vampire hunting glory.

The leather trencher is sharp, and not enough on its own for anyone to bat an eyelash. Him pacing, talking to himself, and flashing traditional monster slaying weapons strapped in the inner flaps on the other hand........

I'm just praying that my ‘date’ doesn’t see me slinking through a hundred-foot garden bed like a serpent.

Gaines Financial was the only notary within a thirty-minute walk of Courtney’s practice. Otherwise, I’d barely look at, let alone approach a building so tall and imposing. With its hundred stories and darkly tinted glass, the skyscraper might as well be the black tower of Sauron in the White City in my spiraling head.

The conglomerate owning seventy-five percent of the banks in Haven only adds to that. On a positive note, I did just find the best coffee cart in the city. On the negative end, the hazelnut heaven is down my blouse and I haven’t slept a wink. 

I’d love to blame my crouching behind the bushes, and puffing my cheeks like a chipmunk who belongs in the natural shrubbery, on lack of sleep. Instead, it’s me working out how to get into the thirty-foot glass entrance without my page of swords spotting me.

Jonathan’s presence a catalyst rather than a deterrent. Due to the fact that if I divorce Alex, I’ll never have to deal with another non-con blind date again. It makes perfect sense in my mind, considering the Witch is engaged to my husband, and only married couples can adopt kids.

Not that Alex and I were ever really together. Obviously, Alex is gay, being with my brother and all. Still, he was a crush I had in college, and the best person I ever dated. Even if that relationship was only in my head. 

Our marriage was strictly platonic, and came about for as many legal, as financial purposes when I was going through rehab. Now that I’m all better, I can let them get married and adopt the baby Nicky always wanted.

Shenanigans aside, I just know Nicky will be a great Dad. Plus he’ll be so busy bottle-feeding and burping an actual infant, he’ll forget all about returning my fate. Fate meaning soul mate in gypsy culture.

He’s never been apologetic about stealing Alex from me in the past. Well, there was nothing to steal, but still. Since the whole Brian incident and me moving out, Nicky is treating me like the baby they’ve talked about adopting for a while now.

Alex wanting to wait until he’s retired and Nicky being as meddlesome as he is impatient. I realize how badly he wants a kid, but setting me up with every rando and wackadoo in Haven isn’t going to get him a niece or nephew, and he darn well knows it!

In my mind, it makes absolute and total sense that if Nicky is busy with a baby, he absolutely deserves and would be an amazing Dad to, he won’t have any time to meddle with me.

So I can’t just quit.

Not even in a naughty secretaries outfit with coffee staining my blouse, bush tangling my hair, and less than an hour for me to meet Courtney. Even if the incomplete, as much as the unknown weren’t terrifying to autistics, I’d stay the course if only to put the latest ‘adventure or chapter’ of the catastrophe cat to bed.

Maybe Nicky really is writing a book, like he says.

Wiggling in frustration similar to a pee dance, I remember my training. Accept that if I’m going to succeed in my mission, I have to be patient. It’s never been my strong suit, and I’m going to tell the Witch all about it while I wait for ‘Jonathan’ to be distracted well enough for me to get into the building.

“If you don’t take that post down right now, BFF is going to stand for balless former friend.” I yowl as quietly as I can from my still hidden place in the shrubbery.

“You’d never do that to my future husband,” the little imp dares to taunt back.

Even with every warning bell going off in my head, I’m stuck in my current position. Locked in place as the ways to barrel through the obstacle churn subconsciously with all the horrible ways that this could end.

It’s only when I stop talking. Cease to make translatable sounds, reverting to a grunting if not confused chimpanzee that Nicky checks in,“you okay?”

With the man, he had me ‘running into’ last Friday circling back to my position again, I’m too upset to recognize the genuine concern in the tone he’s taken. Dr. Nikolai Cross, being the one to diagnose me, is able to pick up on the mini meltdowns that come with the condition.

Just like he’s aware that once a wall is hit in our minds, there’s no stopping until we break through it. Whether that’s ill-advised scenarios or flat out tantrums, Aspies charge forward or completely shut down until they have a solution.

“What part of him showing up at my apartment is not ringing warning bells in your pea brain?!” I shrill. There are things that even I can’t laugh at, no matter how hard I try. Still, as long as I or a body part don’t end up in a trophy case, this might seem as funny to me as it has to Lucy and Shannon.

Eventually.