Are You Alone on Purpose? by Nancy Werlin Page A

school?”
    Mrs. Shandling shook her head. “You’re right, of course. Adam goes to a special school. Which brings up another problem. Have you ever dealt with an autistic child, Rabbi? Do you have any idea what you’re getting into?”
    â€œI could learn.”
    â€œMaybe,” said Mrs. Shandling. She looked doubtful. “I just don’t know.”
    â€œAt least think about it. Please.”
    â€œIt’s not just my decision, you know. I’d have to talk it over with my husband.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œEven if we said yes, you should have the right to change your mind. After a session or two, you might decide it’s not working out.”
    â€œI suppose that’s possible. But I would like to try, Mrs. Shandling. It would mean a lot to me. And possibly to Adam.”
    â€œI’ll think about it.”
    â€œThank you, Mrs. Shandling,” said Rabbi Roth. “I appreciate it.” He looked at his watch, and rose. “Well. I’d better be off. They keep strict visiting hours at the rehab unit.”
    â€œI’ll see you out,” said Mrs. Shandling. “Adam, say good-bye to Rabbi Roth.”
    Rabbi Roth waited. Nothing. “Good-bye, Adam,” he said finally. “I hope to see you soon.” He reached across the table and, very gently, took Adam’s hand from where it rested beside the plate. He shook it and put it back down. “Good-bye. And good-bye, Alison.”
    Alison nodded back. She watched Rabbi Roth and her mother leave the kitchen.
    Rabbi Roth thought Harry’s accident had happened because God wanted Rabbi Roth to know he’d made the wrong decision about letting Adam go to Hebrew school.
    Alison had wondered, herself, if God was punishing Harry for persecuting her. That had been an awful enough thought. But, in it, at least Harry had actually done the thing he was being punished for.
    Rabbi Roth thought Harry was being punished not for his own actions, but for his father’s.
    It was a far more awful idea.
    Alison wondered if Harry knew what his father thought.

HARRY
    November
    H arry was in his chair in the rec room, practicing lifts and watching 1010 Brookside on television. At first, he’d sneered at his roommate when Zee turned on the afternoon soap opera, but he’d been watching it with Zee most days for nearly three weeks now, and it was pretty interesting after all. There were some gorgeous babes. Right now Anna, who was some kind of secret agent, was on a stakeout. Something to do with drugs. Anna had a gun, an accent, and a lot of long dark hair that hung over one side of her face. Zee preferred Cecilia, but Harry couldn’t see it.
    Buzz.
    His watch alarm was set so low that only Harry could hear it. Automatically, he tightened his hands on the armrests and lifted his body, shifting his buttocks slightly on the chair’s cushion. Lift up, over, down, release. It took only a couple of seconds, and you’d have to watch closely to see that he was doing it. Harry knew that for sure because he’d watched himself in the mirror at the gym.
    â€œHey,” he said to Zee, “move your ass.”
    â€œYeah, yeah.” Zee grimaced and did, ostentatiously. “Happy, little boy?”
    â€œYou want to get sores like Doherty, that’s your business,” said Harry, offended. “It’s your ass.”
    â€œYou’d better believe it,” said Zee.
    Harry turned his attention back to the soap, where some guy was sneaking up on Anna from behind. Zee wasn’t too regular about his lifts, Harry had noticed. He’d only been trying to help. Well, he wouldn’t again. He watched Anna get hit on the head and slump to the ground. So much for her gun.
    Buzz. Harry did a lift: up, over, down, release. He had a sudden vision of Doherty’s pressure sores, and did a second lift, just for luck.
    Eileen Costas, the physical therapist, had made Harry and Zee look