Chapter Five October 21 #3
“Me too. Speaking of…” He nods to the chair, and I nod back. John sits across from me as I grip my journal tightly in my left hand, the fingers of my right hand pressing into my knee.
“I’ve been practicing that Beatles song,” he says.
“Alone or with your band?” I ask. It’s a filler question. I wasn’t ready for this interaction. I haven’t rehearsed enough. Not that it would help. John never seems to ask me logical questions; our conversations are never linear.
“My band. Did I tell you about them?” he asks. “Theo Petropolis and Eddie Singh. Eddie’s on drums. Theo on bass guitar.”
“I know Theo.” I grimace. “We go to the same church. He bullied me when we were younger.”
“Want me to beat him up for you?” John asks, leaning in slightly, and even though I know he’s joking, a part of me thinks he might.
“We haven’t spoken in years,” I say. “And with everything that happened to his father…”
“Right. He’s a good guy now. I can attest to that. But your experiences are still valid, and I stand by my offer to kick his ass. How old are you?” John asks, his eyes flitting to my journal before meeting mine again.
“I’ll be fourteen in December.”
“Right. John Lennon’s death day.” He smiles, and I can’t help but smile back. It’s like a damn reflex—but only for him. Everyone else has to earn my smiles, both fake and real. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Okay,” I reply.
“Are you masking?”
“How do you know about masking?” My hands fall still and I tilt my head at John. His more than base level knowledge of autism has me intrigued.
“My cousin, Nora, is autistic. She’s only ten but she’s way smarter than I’ll ever be. Funny, too.”
“I’m almost always masking,” I say, replying directly to his question.
“To a degree. Unless I’m alone. Depends on my comfort level.
Sometimes it slips completely.” Our eyes lock with sudden intensity, and instead of looking away, I hold it for a few seconds before picking up my pen. Just as something to do.
“What’re you working on there?” he asks glancing at my journal again.
I tuck it toward me and shake my head. “Nothing. Just…why aren’t you watching the movie?” I ask, deflecting attention.
“Avery wanted M&M’s.”
“The concession stand is over there,” I say nodding to it.
“I tried to look you up on socials,” he replies, ignoring my helpful direction. “Couldn’t find you.”
I swallow before straightening in my seat, willing my knee to stop thumping. “I don’t have any accounts. What would I even post? Pictures of myself not smiling?” I say, putting the pen down and sticking my hands under my thighs. Stop shaking.
John laughs. “Can I have your number?”
“Why?”
“I’ll need it to invite you to watch our band practice. You know, once we stop sounding like shit. You and I can’t keep relying on timing and chance.”
Timing and chance and the universe pulling two people together—it’s the kind of thing I eat up.
The kind of romance you only find in books.
But this is real life, and if I want to stay tethered to John, giving him my number seems like the best way to do it.
There’s real life and then there’s the lives we lead on our phones. I want to be part of both those worlds.
“Fine,” I say. “Pass me your phone.”
John unlocks his phone before handing it to me. His background is a photo of a small kid on a bike.
“Is this you?” I ask, holding it up.
He laughs. “Do you think I’m that in love with myself?”
“I don’t know you well enough to answer that question.”
“It’s my little brother, Mikey,” he says.
“How old is he?”
“Six.”
“That’s a pretty big age gap. Did everything change when he was born?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer.
He nods. “It did. In every way I expected. Mikey meant chaos. Milk and other stains on the couch. Toys everywhere. Nonstop crying the first year. But then it changed in ways I didn’t expect.
Like fighting over who got to give him his nighttime bottle.
Racing up the stairs after his nap to bring him down.
Teaching him to ride a bike.” John rakes his fingers through his hair, his far-off glance meeting mine for a fleeting moment.
“That’s sweet,” I say. “But that’s a baby brother.”
“Is this…” He pauses before clearing his throat. “Is this about your sister?”
“Yeah.” I look down at the table, the shame of the subject matter making it hard to once again look John in the eyes. But everyone knows by now. It is what it is. “The whole out of wedlock, teen mom thing makes the whole idea of her baby feel, I don’t know…tainted.”
“Once you all lay eyes on the baby things will change. For the better. Babies are the least of our problems now,” he says, with a tight-lipped smile.
“There.” I pass John’s phone back to him.
“Perfect.” He clears his throat again, and it makes the silence between us even more pronounced. “I’d better get that chocolate for Avery.”
“Okay.”
John nods a goodbye as he walks to the concession stand.
In his absence, his words from earlier echo in my head: “We’re connected.”
I flip open my journal to a new page.
What if he breaks my heart?
And what if I let him?