I’m autistic.
I hate it when people ask me to do something and then get mad at me for doing what they said to do because they meant something else that they expect me to know even though they never told me.
Need an example? Mom signed me up for tennis lessons at the end of my sophomore year. Getting there was a bit of a shit show because the lessons ran when she was at work. For the first two weeks, Mom could drive me because she had taken off work. After that, she told me to get myself to tennis; so I started taking the bus. It worked out until the middle of July when they changed the bus route.
Mom wasn’t home when I noticed that the bus no longer went to where the tennis club was. I took a screencap of the new bus route and texted it to here with the caption “Are you going to take me to tennis now that the bus doesn’t go down Winnipeg Avenue anymore and the new stop is too far away from the club to walk?”
About 45 minutes after I sent that, my mom texted back, “No, I have too much work to do.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” I texted back. I felt so stuck.
Mom said something that confused the hell out of me. “Just get a ride with Doug, it doesn’t matter.”
“Who?”
“Doug Hardaway. You know, Neil’s son?”
I had no idea who mom was talking about. “Who is Neil Hardaway?”
No sooner did I text this than the phone rang. This conversation ensued:
Me: hi,
Mom: I don’t freaking believe this, Elsa. Neil Hardaway is head of corporate insurance, and there are a bunch of jobs coming out there, but unfortunately, Neil is the only person in charge of selecting candidates and he only hires his friends
Me: So you’re telling me I have to get a ride with Doug Hardaway so you can get a job in Neil’s group?
Mom: Yes! That was the only reason we signed you up for tennis lessons. I was able to take you to and from tennis the first couple of weeks so you get a chance to know Doug. And when I can’t take you, you have to get a ride with Doug.
Me: You never said that. You only said I had to get myself to tennis.
Mom: Elsa, I’ve told you 1000 times just how bad my situation at work is! My current boss picks on me, everybody in my group picks on me, the only way out is through Neil, and the only way I can make friends with Neil is if you make friends with Doug!
Me: Yeah, but you never said anything about Neil and Doug until today. You only told me how bad your group was. Honestly, until a few seconds ago I didn’t even know Neil Hardaway had kids.
Mom: Listen to me, I have tried to leave multiple times, and Evelyn has sabotaged it. Getting a job with Neil in his department is my only way out because he is the only guy there that she’s afraid of, so she’ll stay out of my way.
Me: There isn’t anyone named Doug in my class. The boys in my tennis class are Nelson, Ethan, Grover, Ernesto, and Dustin; the girls are Cassidy J, Kassidy P, Insignia, Claire, and Jenn
Mom: You don’t understand. I signed you up for tennis lessons at Tierra del Fuego so you could make friends with Doug. It is vitally important that you get on Doug’s good side so I can get on Neil’s good side and he can give me a job with his group!
Me: I’ve told you, there isn’t anyone in my class named Doug!
Mom: Because he probably has class on a different day. Now, I have to get back to work. We’ll discuss it more when I get home
I could feel my heart race and I began to shake uncontrollably. Mom had only told me one part of the story but assumed I knew the whole thing. I didn’t even know I did anything wrong!
No matter what I tried, I couldn’t calm down. I felt like I had to fix this. I had to track down Doug.
I knew my tennis instructor’s number because it was written on the big whiteboard outside of the indoor court. I picked up my phone and called her, but I had to leave a message. I took a deep breath and said, “Hi Sarah, this is Elsa Packard. I’m in your Monday evening tennis class at Tierra del Fuego tennis club and I was wondering if Doug Hardaway still plays tennis here. I ask because I haven’t seen him in class so maybe he’s in your class on a different day like Thursday or if he has a different coach. Anyway, when you find out, let me know.”
Instantly after I left a message, it occurred to me that one of two things would happen. Either Sarah would get it and not be able to answer my question or she deleted it thinking it was a joke. I then opened the web browser on my phone and googled the name, Neil Hardaway. Sure enough, the guy that worked as the head of corporate insurance came up. Better still, his email and phone number came up under his name. I clicked on the phone number. Unlike Sarah, he picked up the phone. The conversation went something like this.
Me: Hi
Neil: Who is this?
Me: Elsa Packard
Neil: Packard? Any relation to Monica Packard?
Me: Yes, I’m Monica’s daughter. You Neil Hardaway?
Neil: Who wants to know?
Me: My mom told me I was supposed to be in the same tennis class as your son Doug, but he’s not there, and I’m curious if he’s still playing tennis at Tierra del Fuego.
Neil: I don’t wanna talk about it!
Me: Why not?
Neil: We, uh, we sent Doug to, um, boarding school. Yes, he’s at boarding school in…New Zealand because…because…because he knew too much!
Neil angrily hung up the phone. I didn’t know what to think after that. Was Neil grouchy with me because I called him just as he was about to leave the office? Did I overstep my boundaries somehow? It was probably a combination of both. After the dust settled, it occurred to me that perhaps I had acted rashly because I was upset.
Afterward, I decided to Google the name Doug Hardaway. The results turned up a rash of gruesome headlines:
Boy, 15, vanishes from bed during midday nap (April 27, about a week before I started tennis lessons)
No sightings, no leads on missing boy (May 2)
Remains found in Mexican desert identified as Doug Hardaway (May 11)
Father suspected in Doug Hardaway’s murder (May 13)
I felt my stomach drop. I think I just pissed off somebody dangerous. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know how Mom would react.
I probably should’ve said something. If I had, I could’ve at least avoided what happened next.
For the next little while, I kept dreaming of threatening phone calls and presences. My phone would ring in the middle of the night. I would answer and hear a man’s voice say some variation of either “there will be consequences”, “you know too much”, or “you shouldn’t have asked”. Some nights were worse than others. A couple of times I woke up to someone either honking at me or tapping on my window.
As it happened, I brushed it off as stress dreams. I really shouldn’t have. The other day, I saw a note on our front door that said “I tried to teach Elsa a lesson, but she wasn’t home - I will be back later”.