Autistic Dad Tommy
I had some sensory overload this morning at an assembly, so I channeled it into this ficlet.
****
"Papa!" Stella yells as she runs through the front door.
He winces at the sound of the door slamming but recovers quickly, focusing on Stella's bright smile, so much like Evan's. She thrusts a letter into his hands.
"Read it, Papa, read it!"
He smiles and unfolds it: 'Stella Lynn Kinard will be awarded the Silver Creek Elementary Sunshine Student Award for the kindness and positivity that she always exudes. Please join us for a celebration and pep assembly where she will receive her award.'
Tommy's heart soars and then immediately sinks. He is so proud of his daughter, his cheerful, friendly little mini-Evan, but the idea of going to an assembly makes his skin crawl.
"I'm so proud of you, princess," Tommy says, wrapping his daughter into a tight hug. But at the same time, he catches Evan's eyes over her head, his own gaze flickering with anxiety.
"Check your schedules right now, Dads! I want to make sure you can come," Stella bounces on her toes. "There will be singing and dancing and a group cheer. The whole school will be there!" she adds, her excitement building with each detail.
Tommy feels his chest tighten at "whole school," but keeps his smile steady for his daughter.
Tommy tries hard not to let his autism negatively affect his family. It's a battle he's constantly fighting, pushing against his own limits. His husband is so understanding - Evan would accept if Tommy skipped the assembly - but he can't do that to his baby girl. He won't be the kind of parent who misses their child's big moments.
"Me, Daddy, and Sasha will be there, baby girl," Tommy says and kisses Stella's forehead.
"Tom?" Evan asks softly. "You sure?"
Tommy nods. He can do this.
But he can't do this. It's all too much the second he steps into the gym. The fluorescent lights are too bright, their constant buzzing drilling into his skull. He tries to take a deep breath, but it catches in his throat.
For Stella, he repeats to himself over and over. He's an adult,he's a father. He needs to push through.
He bites his lip as they step deeper into the chaos. He wants to sit in the corner, eyes closed, hands over his ears - anything to block out the sensory stimulation that's crashing over him in waves.
"Tommy," Evan grabs his arm gently.
Sasha looks at her Papa curiously. "Papa ok?"
"No, sweetie, Papa's not ok," Evan says, noticing Tommy's increasing distress.
"I can...I can...for Stella," Tommy stammers, swaying slightly.
"Babe, I'm not asking. Go back to the car," Evan says firmly but kindly.
"I'll take lots of pictures, and then we can celebrate at home," Evan says, his hand steady on Tommy's arm. "Tommy, please take care of yourself, or you're going to go into full shutdown."
"Yeah...yeah, ok, you're right," Tommy concedes, relief flooding through him even as regret twists in his stomach.
He doesn't know how much time passes as he revels in the silence of the car. Before long, the door opens, and Evan starts loading Sasha into her carseat as Stella buckles her booster.
"Hi Papa," Stella says brightly.
"Hey, sweet girl. Sorry Papa missed your big moment," Tommy says, guilt creeping into his voice.
"That's okay, Papa. Daddy explained it to me. He said your brain makes everything brighter and louder. That must be really hard, Papa," she says with a tenderness beyond her years.
Tommy's eyes flood with tears at his daughter's wisdom. "It's not always easy."
"Well, you always tell me and Sasha to talk about our feelings, so you need to too, Papa. It's only fair," Stella says with all the logic of an eight-year-old.
"I promise," he says.
"Pinky promise?" she asks, extending her small finger.
"Pinky promise," Tommy says, turning to lock pinkies with his daughter.
Evan smiles at him from the driver's seat, and Tommy feels loved and accepted. Relief washes over him as he remembers that even on his hardest days, he has his family to lean on.
