“David. David. DAVID. Stop biting. Don’t touch that. Come over here. Where’s mommy? Say mommy, David. Please say mommy.”
The words get said, but none of them get interpreted. David, slightly over two years old, has no comprehension of language. His mother, my girlfriend, repeatedly says his name hoping that this will be the time he turns around and smiles. To her surprise, he does turn around. But there is no smile of recognition. His glazed over eyes look at her hands as he walks toward his loving mother, only to grab a toy of his out of her fingers without even looking at her.
In many ways, he is highly intelligent and with a quick glance can appear “normal.” He runs around, he isn’t overwhelmed being with other kids, he picks up toys and seems to play with them, he maneuvers his way around objects to get where he wants, and he can bring desired items (like cookies) to his mother for her to open them for him.
On closer look, however, there is something amiss. He runs around, in a straight line, over and over and over. The interacting he does with kids is mostly just him running past them or pushing them out of his way. He picks up toys only to place them on ledges, never once showing any signs of creativity in his play. He cleverly gets to where he wants even if that means biting you and kicking you so that you’ll move. Most tellingly, he might have you help him do something but he will never look you in the eye or show any explicit awareness or interest in your presence.
No, I will never love you, David. I am only 23-years-old, and it’s a shame your mother had you when she was just 20. It truly sucks that your parents were just children themselves when they had you, and that thanks to me they will never be together. It sucks that your mom, my girlfriend, has to deal with the burden that you will always be to her. In moments of weakness, she shamefully admits to me that deep down she wishes that you were never born. You destroy her and everyone around you. It’s not your fault, you don’t do it purposefully, but you do it nonetheless.
I have fallen for your mother, but I haven’t fallen for you. I know that in the end, it is a package deal and I will continue to feign intrigue in you because I care about your loving mother so much. But I won’t ever forget the pain you cause her. She cries because her own child can’t speak to her. She blames herself for all of your problems and remains in denial about your disease. She tells everyone you are normal and just going through a phase, but even a slight understanding of this disorder reveals you to be an obvious case.
Yesterday, you were in the room with us as your mom and I had sex. She screamed with pleasure, true joy that you will never bring her, and for a moment forgot that she was stuck with you. As I turned her over and came all over her back, I took a quick glance at you, as you stared distantly at the television, and thought to myself that I am the real love of your mom’s life. She’ll wipe my cum off, slowly, and wish that my sperm created the healthy child she wishes she had.
To all those that will hate me for being open about my frustrations, I know. I’m a terrible person for voicing this type of opinion. Autism doesn’t mean that the child deserves blatant disrespect. The mother loves her son, how dare I give an honest account of the harsh realities of a shitty situation! I hear you, and I hope that I never have an autistic or handicapped child of my own. I’m sure I would love that child, in my own way, but I’m sorry David, I will never love you.