He told her about the horns.
The frill.
How scientists once focused on the obvious purpose of those features and overlooked the possibility that they were also part of communication.
Then he connected it to himself.
“I communicate all the time, Grandma.”
She listened.
“At Grandpa’s picnic, I was communicating that I was trying hard. I was trying to belong. I was handling a lot of noise and people and information.”
He touched his shirt.
“But because I don’t always communicate the way other people do, sometimes people don’t notice.”
Mom’s eyes filled.
“If you don’t understand the frill,” Noah continued, “you miss the whole conversation.”
She nodded.
“I understand that now.”
He studied her.
“Do you?”
Mom didn’t lie.
“I’m learning.”
Noah considered that answer.
“That’s honest.”
“Yes.”
“I can work with honest.”
Mom smiled.
Then she asked him something.
“If I could go back to the picnic, what should I have done differently?”
Noah thought carefully.
“When Murphy hit me and I spilled the lemonade, you could have said, ‘Nice save.’”
“Why?”
“Because I fixed it quickly.”
Mom nodded.
“You did.”
“You could have noticed what I did right instead of still thinking about me as the problem.”
Her eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
“And if you thought the gathering was getting too much for me, you could have asked me.”
“I should have.”
“I know my own limits better than people think.”
Mom nodded again.
“So what should I do?”
“Ask.”
“All right.”
Noah took another drink of lemonade.
Then he said:
“I want to come for Thanksgiving.”
Mom’s eyes widened slightly.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll need a quiet room.”
“The reading room.”
“Is it quiet?”
“Very.”
“And if Murphy is there, could he stay outside while we eat?”
“I’ll talk to David.”
“That’s all.”
Mom looked at him for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
“You’re quite something, Noah.”
He shrugged.
“Triceratops were quite something too. People just took a while to figure it out.”
Mom laughed.
A real laugh.
Noah looked confused.
“What?”
“That was funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“I know. That’s why it was funny.”
He thought for a second.
“Is that the frill?”
Mom laughed again.
“I think maybe it is.”
Noah smiled.
“So you can read it a little.”
“I’m trying.”
“That’s enough to start.”
We stayed for two hours.
While Noah showed Grandpa his solar-system project, Mom spoke privately with Lily.
“You planned the recording.”
“Yes.”
“You were scared.”
“Very.”
“But you still did it.”
“Yes.”
