Chapter 5: A start to vacation
The villa’s interior was a cool, shadowy reprieve from the blazing sun, but the strange energy from Dr. Evans followed them like a ghost. Flo’s grip on the leash was firmer than usual, her pace brisk as she guided Mae’s shuffling steps through a vast living area and down a long, terracotta-tiled hallway.
“Here we are, love. Your own space,” Flo said, her voice softening as she pushed open a heavy wooden door.
Mae’s room was breathtaking. The walls were a warm ochre, and large windows framed a postcard-perfect view of the sea. Her own paintings—vivid abstracts of color and form—were hung with care. The familiar, heavy oak restraint chair stood in one corner, and a hospital bed with its intricate system of straps was positioned to face the windows. It was a perfect replica of her sanctuary at home, transplanted into this paradise. The order of it immediately began to soothe the raw feeling Dr. Evans had left behind.
Flo closed the door, and the latch clicked with a sound of finality. “Alright, let’s get all this travel gear off you,” she murmured, her hands going first to the helmet. The world rushed back in as it was lifted away—the cry of distant gulls, the whisper of the sea breeze through the jasmine-laden air. Flo unbuckled the straitjacket with a series of soft pops, and the profound pressure released, letting Mae’s arms fall slack at her sides. She flexed her fingers, the sensation of blood returning a subtle prickling. Finally, the ankle cuffs were unlocked and the short tether removed.
Flo then unzipped the fleece onesie, the sound loud in the quiet room. The warm, air hit Mae’s skin, and the distinct, powdery scent from the heavily used diaper became more pronounced. Flo helped her step out of the onesie, leaving her standing naked and exposed in the middle of the beautiful room, the full diaper a stark white bulge against her skin.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Flo said, her tone purely practical and kind. She took Mae’s hand and led her into the adjoining bathroom. It was spacious and modern, with a large, open shower area. In the center stood the specialized shower chair, a waterproof marvel of white plastic and stainless steel, its extensive array of straps hanging ready.
Flo guided Mae to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. With efficient, gentle movements, she untaped the heavy, saturated diaper. The air felt cool on Mae’s skin as the wet padding was peeled away. Flo bundled it up and disposed of it in a discreet bin, then proceeded to clean Mae thoroughly with wipes, the routine so ingrained it was a meditation.
“Up you get,” Flo said, helping Mae to her feet and guiding her the few steps to the shower chair. The seat was cool and solid. Flo lifted Mae’s legs, placing her feet into the designated footholds, and secured them with broad, padded straps around her ankles. She then pulled a wide lap belt across Mae’s thighs, buckling it firmly. Next, she guided Mae’s arms to rest on the chair’s supports, securing her wrists with soft cuffs. Finally, a broader chest strap went across her torso, locking her in a seated, upright position. The embrace of the chair was firm and unyielding, a different kind of security than the straitjacket, but just as comforting.
Flo turned on the water. A cascade of warm rain descended from the large, ceiling-mounted showerhead. Mae let her head fall back, closing her eyes as the water sluiced over her hair and face, washing away the grime of travel and the lingering unease of the doctor’s clinical gaze. Flo took a bottle of lavender-scented soap and began to wash her, her hands moving in firm, circular motions over Mae’s back and shoulders.
“That man,” Mae said quietly, her voice barely audible over the spray. “The doctor. He looked at me like I was a puzzle.”
Flo’s hands stilled for a moment on her shoulders. “I know, my girl. Some people only see the equipment, not the person using it. They don’t understand it’s what allows you to live your life.” Her hands resumed their work, lathering soap down Mae’s arms. “But we don’t need his understanding, do we? This is for you. This is what works.”
Mae let out a long, slow breath, the tension finally leaving her body. The water was warm. The restraints were secure. Flo’s hands were sure. Here, in this chair, she was not a specimen to be studied. She was just Mae, being cared for. The water rinsed away the last of the suds, and with it, the strange encounter on the doorstep, leaving only the clean, quiet certainty of the routine.
The water shut off with a definitive click, leaving a dripping silence in the steam-filled room. Flo unstrapped her with practiced efficiency, the cuffs and belts falling away one by one until Mae could step onto the cool tile floor, her skin pink and glowing. A large, fluffy towel enveloped her, and Flo rubbed her dry with a brisk, comforting friction that left her feeling both grounded and deeply clean.
Flo guided her back into the bedroom, the terracotta tiles cool under her bare feet. She lay Mae down on the soft rug in the center of the room, the fibers tickling her back. The fresh diaper was cool as Flo slid it underneath her, its crispness a stark contrast to the heavy, traveled one from before.
The tapes made their familiar ripping sound as Flo secured them, snug at the hips. "There we go. All fresh." She helped Mae into the short-sleeved, breathable onesie, the light cotton a welcome change from the fleece. It felt like a second skin, cool and unrestrictive.
Next came the overalls, a practical set in a slate gray. Flo held them open and Mae stepped in, pulling the straps up over her shoulders. "I always think these are perfect for you," Flo commented, snapping the side clasps closed with a series of soft clicks.
"The straps?" Mae asked, already knowing the answer but enjoying the ritual of the conversation.
"Yeah, they keep everything where it should be," Flo said, her tone matter-of-fact as she adjusted the bib. "No sagging, no shifting. And they look just like regular clothes, so no one has to think about what's underneath but us." She gave the left strap a final, affirming tug.
Mae looked down at the sturdy fabric, a small smile touching her lips. It was a simple, elegant solution. Flo unclipped the pacifier from its travel spot and fastened it to the front bib of the overalls, where it rested like a small, silicone pendant. "All set," she said, her hand giving Mae's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Ready to go find that ocean?"
Mae smiled, the clean cotton of her onesie soft against her skin. "I should probably head downstairs and visit with my parents first," she said, adjusting the pacifier clipped to her overalls. "Before we get distracted by the sea."
"Good idea," Flo agreed, opening the bedroom door. "They'll be eager to see you settled in."
They found her parents in the main living area, seated on a plush sofa that faced the panoramic view of the coast. Her mother looked up from her tablet, a warm smile instantly gracing her features. "There's our girl," she said, her voice dripping with affectionate approval. "Don't you look cute in your little outfit."
Her father lowered his newspaper, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "The travel suit you, sweetheart. That blue is your color." He watched as Mae shuffled slightly in her thick-soled shoes, the fresh diaper creating a subtle whisper with each small step.
"All ready for the beach, then?" her mother asked, not waiting for an answer. She rose gracefully and crossed the room, her movements fluid and sure. Her hands, cool and smooth, went to the side clasp of Mae's overalls with a practiced flip. The snap came undone easily.
She peeled back the bib of the overalls and the underlying onesie just enough to slip her fingers into the top of the diaper, checking the fit and the dryness with a brief, professional touch. "Perfect," she declared, smoothing the fabrics back into place and re-fastening the clasp with a definitive click. "Nothing to slow us down."
Mae stood perfectly still during the inspection, feeling the familiar press of her mother's fingers against the plastic backing. It was a routine as normal as a goodbye kiss, a data point in the careful management of her day. It did not perturb her; it was simply part of the landscape of her care.
"She's all fresh and ready for some sun," Flo confirmed, her tone cheerful and reinforcing.
"Excellent," her father said, folding his newspaper with a crisp snap. "Then what are we all waiting for? That water is calling our names." He stood, his presence immediately commanding the room toward action. "Let's go see if the Mediterranean is as blue as it looks from this window."
Mae felt a genuine thrill, the awkwardness with Dr. Evans completely forgotten in the face of her parents' unquestioning acceptance and the imminent promise of the sea. She turned with Flo, following her father's lead as he strode toward the villa's rear doors, which opened onto a path leading down to the cove. The adventure was finally beginning.
The adventure was finally beginning. Flo’s hand on her shoulder gently steered her away from the grand doors and back toward the bedroom. “Just one more minute, love,” Flo said, already unzipping the beach bag. “The path down is a bit steep. We’ll use the walking gear.”
From the bag, Flo produced the walking harness, a robust network of wide, padded straps designed to distribute pressure evenly across Mae’s torso and shoulders. She guided Mae’s arms through the openings, the familiar weight settling on her like a second skin. Flo clicked the central buckle at her chest, then attached the leash to the heavy-duty D-ring between her shoulder blades. Finally, the autism helmet was slipped over her head, the world once again softening into a muffled, manageable bubble.
“All set,” Flo said, hefting the bag of beach supplies over her own shoulder. She gave the leash a little test tug. “Comfortable?”
Inside her helmet, Mae nodded. The harness was secure, not restrictive, a feeling she associated with freedom of movement, not its limitation. It meant she could traverse uneven ground without fear.
They rejoined her parents at the top of the stone path that zigzagged down the cliff face. Her mother gave an approving nod. “So much safer,” she remarked, her eyes scanning the harness’s fit. Her father was already a few steps ahead, his phone held up to capture the view.
The path was indeed steep, a rugged descent of worn stone steps and loose gravel that demanded attention. The leash in Flo’s hand was taut, a steadying presence that allowed Mae to focus on the stunning scenery instead of her footing. The Mediterranean sprawled below, a breathtaking sheet of turquoise so vivid it seemed to vibrate against the sky.
“Your father has to fly to Milan tomorrow,” her mother said, her voice cutting through the crunch of their footsteps and the distant crash of waves. “A last-minute merger. He’ll be back before the end of the week.”
Her father glanced back, a flicker of apology in his eyes. “It’s unavoidable, Maeve. But it got me thinking. We need to give more serious consideration to the long-term plan for you.”
Mae’s grip tightened on the guide rope running alongside the path. The harness felt suddenly more noticeable. “I have a long-term plan,” she said, her voice slightly hollow inside the helmet. “It’s here. With you. With Flo.”
“Of course, darling,” her mother soothed. “But we won’t be around forever. Your father has been exploring some truly remarkable residential communities. Places designed for individuals with your… specific needs.”
The words landed like stones. “A community?” Mae repeated, the concept feeling alien and cold. “I don’t want a community. I want my home.” She could feel Flo’s attentive silence behind her, a listening presence.
“It would be a home,” her father insisted, pausing to let them catch up. “A safer one, with round-the-clock medical staff and structured activities. No more of this jet-setting back and forth. A stable environment.”
“This feels stable to me,” Mae countered, her voice gaining a sharp edge. The pacifier bumped against her chest, a forgotten comfort. “My room is stable. My chair is stable. Flo is stable.”
“Florence is a nurse, not a permanent solution,” her mother said, her tone gentle but firm. “These places have teams. They’re equipped for the future, for when your needs might become more… complex.”
The implication hung in the salt-tinged air. Mae stopped walking, forcing Flo to stop behind her. She looked at her parents, their faces full of a love that felt, in that moment, like a prelude to a betrayal. “So this is it?” she asked, her words quiet but clear. “You’ve already decided?”
“We’re discussing it, Maeve,” her father said, his voice taking on the patient, logical tone he used in business meetings. “We’re thinking of your security, your happiness, for the next fifty years, not just the next five.”
The vista of paradise below seemed to mock her. The turquoise water, the secluded white sand beach—it all felt like a beautiful backdrop for an intervention. Mae stood there, harnessed and leashed on the cliff path, the discussion of her future feeling like the steepest, most precarious part of the descent.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she simply turned and began walking down the path again, the leash going slack as Flo quickly matched her pace. The conversation was over for now, but the weight of it settled deep inside her, heavier than any harness.
The conversation was over for now, but the weight of it settled deep inside her, heavier than any harness. The rest of the descent was silent, save for the scuff of their shoes on stone and the relentless, cheerful crash of waves below. Mae kept her eyes locked on the path, the helmet narrowing her world to a manageable slice of rock and sky, a defense against the larger, terrifying future her parents had just outlined.
They finally reached the bottom, the path emptying onto a crescent of perfect white sand. The heat radiated up through the soles of her shoes. Her father stopped, turning to face her, his expression softening as he truly looked at her—the rigid line of her shoulders within the harness, the way her head was bowed inside the helmet.
“Maeve,” he said, his voice quieter now, losing its boardroom edge. “That came out all wrong up there.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at his wife who gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. “We got ahead of ourselves. Those places… they’re just ideas we look at. It’s a ‘someday’ thought, honey. A very distant someday.”
Her mother stepped closer, the scent of her perfume a sharp contrast to the salty air. “It will be many, many years before anything like that is even a consideration,” she said, her hand coming to rest on Mae’s harnessed arm. “We love you exactly as you are. This,” she said, gesturing to the harness, the helmet, the whole intricate system of her life, “is part of you. We would never want to change that.”
The words were a balm, loosening the tight knot in her chest. Mae let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The promise of ‘many years’ felt like a reprieve, a return to the familiar landscape of her present.
“Okay,” Mae said, the single word muffled but clear enough.
“Okay,” her father echoed, his smile returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now, let’s enjoy this beach.” He and her mother began to walk toward the water’s edge, already discussing where to lay their towels, the heavy topic shelved for the duration of the holiday.
Flo’s hand was a steadying pressure on her back. “Ready to get into the water?” she asked, her tone deliberately light. Mae nodded, the movement stiff inside the helmet. “Right then, let’s get you switched over.” Flo guided her across the soft, hot sand toward a small, wooden changing hut tucked against the base of the cliff.
The hut was dark and cool inside, smelling of damp wood and salt. Flo closed the slatted door, plunging them into a striped twilight. She unclipped the leash and began the methodical process of unbuckling the walking harness. The heavy straps came away, leaving faint, pressed lines on the cotton of Mae’s onesie. Finally, the helmet was lifted off, and the full roar of the ocean filled the small space.
“Deep breath,” Flo murmured, her hands working quickly. She unclasped the overalls and helped Mae step out of them, then unzipped the light onesie. The cool air of the hut hit Mae’s skin. Flo laid out a large, clean towel on the wooden bench. “Sit here, love.”
Mae sat, the grainy wood cool beneath her thighs. Flo produced a fresh, swim-specific diaper, a bulkier, plastic-backed design. She efficiently taped it on, the process so routine it was over in moments. Next came the blue rash guard, its tight, quick-dry fabric snug against her torso, and over that, the complex autism life jacket, its bright orange nylon and web of straps a familiar preparation for the water.
Flo secured the final buckle between her legs, the intimate, snug anchor point that meant safety. “There. All set.” She clipped a waterproof pacifier to the life jacket’s collar. “The sea awaits.”
The hut door swung open, flooding the space with blinding light and the roar of the sea. Mae stepped out, the bulky orange life jacket immediately making her feel both conspicuous and anchored. She walked a few paces onto the hot sand, then stopped.
Her hands went to the buckles on her chest, pulling at the straps, testing their give. They were firm. She tugged the wide belt low on her torso, ensuring it was locked in place. The snug embrace was a non-negotiable fact of entering the water, a boundary that defined both her limitation and her liberty.
Flo followed, coiling a long, blue nylon leash in her hand. “Ready?” she asked, her voice almost lost to the wind. At Mae’s nod, she clipped one end to the heavy D-ring on the back of the life jacket and the other to a belt around her own waist, freeing her hands for the bag of towels and water.
Mae marveled at the contradiction, as she always did. The jacket was cumbersome, a thick shell of foam that made moving her arms a deliberate effort. Yet that same bulk was what would hold her head above the churning water, what would let her float without fear. It was the price of admission, and she paid it willingly.
She turned and walked into the surf. The first shock of the Mediterranean was bracing, a cold clarity that sliced through the humid air. The water swirled around her legs, the swim diaper ballooning slightly with water, adding to the buoyant feeling. A small wave broke against her waist, and she let it push her, the life jacket lifting her as her feet left the sandy bottom.
She was bobbing, a cork on the vast, blue expanse. The leash trailed behind her, a loose connection to the shore. She kicked gently, drifting, feeling the sun on her face and the supportive pressure of the jacket around her chest. For a few minutes, there was only the rhythm of the waves and the immense, quiet sky.
Then, with a contented sigh, she turned and shuffled back to the damp sand where the waves licked the shore. She unclipped the pacifier from her life jacket and settled it in her mouth, the familiar rhythm calming her further. She dropped to her knees, the wet sand cool through the fabric of her swim diaper.
Her hands, freed from their anxious checking, now dug into the beach. She began patting and shaping a mound, her focus narrowing to the granular texture and the growing form. She packed damp sand into a bucket, flipped it, and carefully lifted the plastic away, leaving a squat tower. This was hers to build. This was a structure no one could discuss dismantling.
She worked in a quiet, determined rhythm, the pacifier bobbing gently with her concentration. The world shrunk to the scope of her castle walls. A larger wave rolled further up the beach, and the foamy water rushed around her knees, lapping at the base of her creation. She watched it recede, taking a small chunk of the outer wall with it. She simply began patting the damage closed, her movements steady, rebuilding against the inevitable tide.