Page 131 of My Boss

I lie staring at him like he’s a picture. “Yes?” My fingers itch to run through the black hairs on his chest.

“Does that look mean you want a hug or are you just admiring my sculpture?”

I smile.

“Both. In addition, I’d also like to fondle your chest hair.”

He makes a face.

“The fondling is definitely out. We can snuggle and, if you want, I can fondle you.”

“An excellent idea.” I move over to him, all on cloud nine, and snuggle into his broad chest.

Jan embraces me and glides his fingers over my hand. Up and down. From shoulder to wrist, from wrist to shoulder. He does this slowly, steadily, and calmly, making me relax. The calm beat of his heart and his steady breathing give me a sense of intimacy and safety. I feel warm, pleasant, fulfilled and happy as never before. I’m slowly drifting away, losing the boundary between being awake and fading off to sleep.

And then I hear his low voice:

“I’m in love with you too, Maria.”

Well, there you go. He has become emotional, this guy, MY BOSS.

Epilogue

After a year of being a neurotypical girl for my AS, I’m able to dispel more than a dozen myths about people with Asperger’s syndrome. Here are the most important ones:

Myth #1:AS can’t read body language.

He can, as long as you are honest with him and don’t draw his attention in another direction.

Example:

A moment, let me assume a puzzled grimace on my face… Oh, there it is!

“Cigarette? What cigarette?” I look at Jan with a face saying, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“The one you threw into the bushes a while ago. Also, I can smell that you smoked. Again.”

“Oh, that.” I dismiss it with a wave of the hand. “The neighbor just lit the fireplace and I stink of smoke. And what you saw was nicotine chewing gum. And I just had to take another one.” I pack a disgusting lozenge in my mouth. “I know, I shouldn’t litter, I’ll clean it up right away. Have you already prepared our ski equipment?”

“Yes.” He peeps into the bushes, so I immediately cover his field of vision.

“You are irreplaceable.”

“Thank you.”

“Then why not pack some sandwiches, in case we get hungry?”

“Great idea.”

“Excellent. Will you start? I’ll be back right away, I’ll call Toska and arrange the details of New Year’s Eve.”

Yes, I’m a mean liar and I deceive my guy that I don’t smoke. But there’s progress because I’ve quit probably seven times now, and as a result I’ve gone from one pack to two cigarettes a day.

The one just getting wet in the snow was my first one today. The best one and the one I waited a whole fourteen hours to smoke.

So far Jan has caught me smoking three times. This was the fourth. I feel stupid and angry at myself. I never perceived it this way before, but since I’ve been with Jan, I feel that cigarettes rule my life, force me to lie and manipulate. I need to get them out of my life once and for all.

With the New Year, I’m quitting these fuckers for good.

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