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27.
    The Jaguar never lost its luster. Rose was one of those women who could make everything new over and over again, just when Todd feared they might sink into a routine. Before the kids were born, they took road trips every chance they got. They stopped at sleazy motels to commemorate their maiden voyage. When Todd was deployed overseas, the Jag hibernated in the garage. Rose would sit in it periodically, to reminisce in its leather embrace, but driving without Todd felt masturbatory. It just made her feel more lonely.
    When Maureen was born they still managed quickies on Saturday afternoons. They told babysitters they were spending the day at the mall. After Max’s diagnosis, the Jag languished in the garage while they figured out the complicated logistics of his treatment. The expense was mind-boggling. They discussed the possibility of Rose getting a job to help pay for the army of neurologists, allergists, nutritionists, and therapists conscripted to rescue Max from his solipsistic fortress. A second income was out of the question. Rose would be needed full-time at home to coordinate the troops. Their son’s brain was like a time bomb that would implode rather than explode if they couldn’t manage to rewire its circuitry by the age of four or five. Every second counted.
    Todd pored over spreadsheets, shifting nonexistent money back and forth to cover the cost of the rescue mission. They discussed cashing in Todd’s pension plan, in spite of the penalties. Without a mortgage to leverage cash, their only option was to rack up credit card debt. Even then, bankruptcy was just a matter of time. They considered every option, no matter how farfetched, knowing full well as they schemed late into the night that there was one simple, tragic solution. The Jaguar.
    Todd surprised Rose one Friday afternoon, coming home for lunch without calling ahead. He brought a babysitter along, a nurse from the base so Rose would agree to leave Max in capable hands for a few hours. His head-banging had gotten to the point where they couldn’t trust him with regular sitters. The last one had called 9-1-1, scaring him half to death. With the exception of trips to doctors and pharmacies, Rose had been housebound for weeks, tending to Max.
    That morning, Rose finished interviewing potential ABA therapists. She offered the job to Sasha, an abnormal psych graduate student with a little brother on the spectrum. The fact that Sasha didn’t consider her brother abnormal convinced Rose she was right for the job. She was scheduled to begin work the following Monday, the official start date of Max’s treatment program. All that remained was to set up the payment plan.
    “Grab your purse,” Todd said.
    “Where are we going?” Rose asked.
    “To the mall.”
    They revved up the Jag for one last vertiginous spree on the open road. They raced by one sleazy motel after another without even slowing down. Todd couldn’t tell if she was angry or just too sad to consummate the trip. When they got back home, Rose parked out front. She left the keys in the ignition. They hadn’t talked about a thing, had just driven to the vanishing point and back in silence. Her sixth sense had already relinquished the Jaguar.
    “You’ll have to go without me,” she said. “I can’t bear it.”
    It was almost five and the dealership would be closing for the day. Todd climbed out of the passenger seat for the last time. He had prepared a speech about how selling the car didn’t mean forfeiting the feelings attached to it. Actually naming the feelings would be impossible, but Rose would know what he meant. She was already halfway across the lawn. He called her name and she disappeared into the house, pretending not to hear. She hadn’t even said good-bye to the hood ornament.
    * * *
    Max always lined up his potatoes in two rows of four. Todd appreciated the military precision of the configuration. He knew he shouldn’t. There was something terribly wrong with a boy