I was up with Hailie that night at one when Chloe texted me a picture we'd taken at the orchid show. Oh my God, we were the most adorable couple ever. She followed it up:

I looked at the picture again. What were the chances she would see it if I made it my lock screen and background? 

I did it anyway, fuck it. My phone buzzed again.

Bubble Guppies sang about restaurants for the millionth time on TV, and Hailie sat with her binkie in her mouth, holding her blanket against her cheek, bright-eyed and awake as she would be for the next two hours. At least during the night she would sit and watch TV. During the day she needed nearly constant attention because she was for the most part unable to entertain herself yet.

I pulled my hoodie over my head and slipped up the little staircase to my attic room. It was little larger than a closet but fit a double bed with about a foot of room left around it. The plus was the window that opened onto the flat roof, and a skylight next to it through which I could see Hailie and monitor what she was doing. 

I also had a ladder to the ground for my own private entrance. 

I sat in my chair out there. Butterflies fluttered inside as I called her. "Hey," she said, and the butterflies multiplied at the sound of her voice. "If you can't talk it's totally cool."

"No, I can," I assured her. "I'm up for awhile." I got my weed out and was glad we weren't in a residential neighborhood so no one was bothered by the smoke. A few puffs now and then worked nicely for me; the mellow high I got from a few puffs of the right strain was just what the doctor ordered. 

"So your cousin's autistic? That's cool. So's my brother." She laughed a little. "Which I already told you, sorry. I'll just repeat myself because it's not like I don't talk enough already."

"Talk all you like, I'm interested," I protested truthfully. Her voice was soothing; I would listen to it all night. Preferably in my ear, in bed next to me. It was like listening to a really good song for the first time. "Go on, seriously. As long as you're not going to wake up your boyfriend or whatever." The word tasted bad on my tongue.

"No, I have my own room, thank God. My little brother's name is Joey, and he's six and diagnosed as 'high functioning', which is a term I don't love. We're all different levels of functioning. He has sensory issues and everything, too. He's amazing, though. Really. I guess you know how it is."

"I do, that's really cool. Hailie is like that." I hesitated as I packed a bud into my small pipe. "She's really smart, too, which actually kinda makes it harder. Like, her doctors said she's like a teenager and a toddler in a five year old's body in a lot of ways." I sparked the cannabis, which was an uplifting strain called Girl Scout Cookies. Considering I hadn't slept yet and wasn't going to soon, it wouldn't hurt.

"Oh, is she intellectually gifted?" she asked casually. 

I blew out my smoke, surprised at the question. The sky was clear, the stars as wonder-inducing as always. "Yeah, actually." Her testing had put her IQ way above the average person's, and she had in fact gone through not only the children's and teens' questions but all of the adult ones as well. She had been the first five year old to do so in the psychologist's ten years of practice. "But it sounds like bragging so I don't even bother mentioning it."

She laughed, and it gave me life. "No, I get it. Joey is off the charts, they did the testing last year. Not that we were surprised; he's been reading since he was three. At six he's already into fourth grade books."

"That's awesome. Hailie's hyperlexic too." Which just meant she was an early reader. I hit the pipe again. "She has some bad meltdowns, though," I said regretfully. "Worse than bad. Debilitating." I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. Little kids should just be able to be little kids, not have a bunch struggles. 

"Ugh, I feel you. Joey still has a couple a week. They can just about kill all of us. Have you been able to do any allergy testing?"

It was such a relief to talk to someone who understood. "No, she won't let the doctor touch her. They can't get her height or weight, let alone blood. She lets me use the blood pressure cuff on her, but that's as far as we've gotten since she was three."

"Oooh, a sensory avoider. Fun," she said wryly. I heard the click of a lighter and her inhale. "Have you tried taking her off gluten? We did that about four months ago and he's a different kid. A lot of them have an intolerance to it." She coughed. "Sorry, smoking a j."

I felt the corners of my mouth lift. "Haha, same. Well, a bowl. Um, no, we honestly haven't had the energy to try," I admitted. It had been suggested by other parents in our situation. "She's already off dye of any kind and eats very little sugar. She eats so few foods now, I hate to mess with it. And it's just . . . " I shook my head, though of course she couldn't see.

"Daunting," she supplied. "I know, I get it. It was the only thing we hadn't tried and they wanted to put Joey on Zoloft around Christmas." She inhaled again. "And we didn't want to use meds for him, the possible side effects alone are crazy, but, I mean, it was bad. He didn't sleep, he was just a ball of rage half the time, and he was getting too big for me or my stepmom to handle. We were looking at meds because we had no other choice." Her tone was apologetic and defensive, and I understood so hard it hurt.

"No, I know," I rushed to say, burning the rest of the green in my bowl. "When you see them in so much pain, you'll do anything." I blew smoke rings into the cool night.

She didn't answer for a few moments and I wondered if I'd said something wrong. But then she spoke, her voice thick. "Pretty much," she agreed. "It's pretty unfair for them, being little kids and dealing with all of it."

"I totally agree. For us too," I put out there, keeping it real. It made me emotional too.

"For us too," she said, and it was heartfelt.

I cleared my throat, hit my pipe. "We should try it though. Do they have gluten-free chicken nuggets and pizza?" I asked half-jokingly.

"They totally do, and they're good, too," she assured me. "Just try taking it away for a week and see if there's any difference. We noticed less meltdowns and more sleeping after three days. Hugely noticeable after two weeks. He actually slept through the night for the first time then."

I couldn't imagine it. "We'll try it," I decided for sure. "Can't hurt, might help."

She yawned. "Okay, hate to bail on this magnificent conversation, especially because I love your voice, but I think I might be able to go to sleep so I'd better take advantage of it."

I took that compliment and tucked it away with the butterflies. "Yeah, I'll probably be up at five again, gonna need alllll the mochas tomorrow."

She groaned in commiseration. "I hope something miraculous happens and she sleeps in."

"I'm not holding my breath," I said in wry amusement. "She used to get up at four, so I'm not even complaining about five really."

"I hope your aunt is able to get up with her sometimes." The question was subtle.

I hesitated, trying to phase it right. "She does when she can. She deals with a lot of depression and anxiety. And drinks a lot," I added honestly. "Mostly to cope with life."

"She's lucky to have you, they all are," she said with feeling. "Well, I'm so glad you were up, and isn't that the cutest pic? I mean you probably look perfect in all your pictures, with those makeup skills," she said easily.

Flirting or friendly?? How could I not know? Why was this so hard?

"Aw," is all I said. I yawned too, and looked at the time. Another ninety minutes and Hailie would be sleepy again. If I could make it that long. The kicker was she was okay to be up by herself; she never broke a rule or did anything unsafe. But her anxiety made her need someone with her at all times, and my aunt tended to pass out early.

Plus, I was twenty-one. Fuck it. Sleep was for the weak.

"I totally want to meet her sometime, both of them, if having company doesn't throw her off too much," she was saying, and I tuned back in sleepily. Oh shit, she wanted to see me again. "We should hang out again."

Yes, a thousand times fucking yes. "We should," I said, trying not to sound too excited.

She yawned again, making me do the same. My eyes watered. Shit, I wanted to sleep so bad I could taste it. "I have Tuesday off, text me if you want. We can take the kids to the park maybe, Joey only has morning school. Sweet dreams!"

"You too, good night," I said automatically, and she hung up, and I smiled gleefully, hugging myself with joy.

Thank you, universe, for this kindred spirit. Please please PLEASE don't mess it up for me.