Chapter 15 #4
“The, uh . . . the reason I was acting weird,” he says.
I look up. He’s staring at his hands, absent-mindedly picking around his nails.
“The other day I was looking for some aspirin in the medicine cabinet. I had a headache. My painkillers weren’t there.
My prescription from my surgery, after the crash.
It’s always on the top shelf, for an emergency.
I asked Mom about it, thinking she’d trashed them or something.
” He hesitates. His hair falls in front of his eyes.
“She didn’t want to tell me. I don’t think she ever planned to.
When she pulled me away from the game the other night, she finally spilled.
Alissa, uh . . . she took a bunch of pills before she went into the river.
” His voice cracks. He sniffs. “They were still in her system when the coroner did the autopsy.”
My stomach turns over. It was bad enough when I thought about Alissa, fully conscious, being swept away by the river.
The idea that she could have been awake while she was being hurt, being killed, that she maybe regretted her decision and tried to climb out and been overpowered haunted me.
It is somehow worse that she planned for it. She always was thorough.
Ash wipes his eyes. “It was my fault she had them. Dad said we didn’t need to keep them around the house, that they were addictions waiting to happen, but I thought, if something bad happened again, if I fell or my leg started hurting again or something, I’d have a quick painkiller.
I was . . . am . . . always worried about my leg breaking again.
Or just—fuck, I don’t know—I liked the way they made me feel, and I felt like a badass for having them.
I survived the crash, you know? I was in this shitty situation, but I got through it and I got better, and I could do it again if I had to.
I should have gotten rid of them. I shouldn’t have been in that fucking accident in the first place. ”
“You didn’t try to get in an accident,” I say, almost spitting the words. We talk to each other, we feel better, and then we get dragged right back in by the exact same feelings. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He runs his hands back through his hair, then scrapes them forward, pulling his hair over his eyes.
When he brushes it all away again and looks up, he’s crying.
“I thought it was getting better. I felt normal sometimes during the day, when you and I were hanging out, or if I was alone and no one was talking to me. But now I know this. Everything’s bad again.
I can’t do anything about it. And I’m just .
. . just scared all the time that it’s going to be this way forever. ”
We sit in silence. If there’s something I can say to take this feeling away from him, I don’t know what it is. I put my hand on his back, and he leans into me. Rests his head on my shoulder. I put my arms around him, because that feels the most comfortable, and press my face to the top of his head.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Not your fault either,” he mumbles. I wasn’t apologizing for the situation; I was apologizing that I couldn’t fix it. But I stay quiet and hold him until he shifts away from me again.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he says. “When I said you weren’t a comforting person, I was joking, more than anything. I didn’t realize it would upset you. It’s that you always seemed so unfazed by things.”
I swallow my embarrassment. I know it’s not something I should be ashamed of, but getting called cold and calculating and robotic wears on you, after a while.
“I thought it was great,” Ash says. My attention sharpens. “I wished I could be that cool about everything. Let things slide off me. I wanted to know your secret.”
“The secret is autism,” I say. “I process things differently.”
“Right, and I knew that, but I didn’t put the two together, I guess.
” He turns toward me, pulling his leg onto the bed.
Wipes his eyes. “Now that I know you better, I see the other sides. You are comforting. In a way a lot of other people aren’t, because when you say something, I know you mean it, and you’ll do what you say, and you’re not exaggerating. I think Alissa envied your clarity.”
My cheeks warm. It isn’t often that I get to listen to other people talk positively about specific traits of mine. I never expect anyone to pay close attention.
“Clarity? You think she saw it that way?” I pick at the hem of my shirt. “Nothing ever feels clear. I’m always scrambling to figure out what things mean, why people do things. Like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yeah. Like, you used to avoid us all the time, when I hung out here with Alissa. I thought you didn’t like me.”
Ash looks sheepish. “In your defense, I didn’t want you to know I was avoiding you because I was nervous.
But I get it.” He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it.
He wipes his eyes again, composed once more.
“Uh, anyway, I didn’t mean to—I wanted to say I was sorry, and I think you’re great, and I know I’m not a lot of fun right now, but I’m glad you’re sticking around. ”
I snort. “What are you talking about? Both of us are paragons of fun right now. Holed up in a bedroom playing an MMO and doing edibles? I even started a fight earlier today. We’re a party.”
Ash laughs. The sound eases some of the tension around my heart.