Chapter Twenty-Six October 19
Chapter Twenty-six
Mom calls me into her room. I walk across the threshold of the bedroom where I spent mornings cuddled in bed with my parents, playing games on my mom’s phone, while Georgie slept in.
The bed where Georgie and I watched as Mom got dressed for weddings, and where I tried to hold in my envy as Mom let my older sister experiment with makeup.
The room where I heard my dad cry, alone, on every anniversary of his brother’s death.
Mom tells me to close the door, then pats the space next to her on the bed where she’s sitting.
Immediately my mind cycles through all the possible reasons I could be in trouble.
Theo.
Sneaking around with Theo.
Maybe Theo’s mom found out we’ve been hanging out at his house when she’s at work.
Maybe she caught me on camera.
Do they have a camera outside their house?
Shit. What if they have one inside their house?
What if I left behind a piece of clothing?
Or she found Theo’s condoms.
Not that we’ve used them.
But she could have made the connection between him having condoms and me being the girl he spends the most time with.
What if they somehow know about the night swimming in my underwear?
Or all the things we did under Theo’s roof that would not only devastate my mom but cause my dad to never speak to me again?
I walk slowly to Mom as all these thoughts race through my mind, making my stomach twist and turn.
“I want to talk to you about Theo,” she says.
Greatest fear unlocked.
I sit, facing forward, too afraid to look her in the eyes.
“What about Theo?” I ask, trying my best to sound innocent.
I know the role they want me to play, and I play it well.
Soft, high-pitched voice. Clothes that aren’t too tight but are still current enough, so I don’t embarrass my superficial mother.
A good girl but not a social outcast. They want someone who is perfect.
Someone who smiles when smiled at. Someone who blends in so well that a person might be surprised to learn about my diagnosis.
A perfectly normal and nice girl. Someone I can never be.
It’s not like they don’t acknowledge the autism; if anything, it makes them more protective. But they don’t see my being autistic as an excuse not to be their perfect daughter.
“You’ve been friends with him for a few months, yes?” she asks.
I open my mouth to respond, not sure what I’m going to say after “Yes,” but before I can say anything, she continues.
“Do you like him?”
I respond with something between a shrug and a nod. I figure that will cover all the bases, depending on what she wants or doesn’t want to hear.
“I think the two of you would make a nice couple.”
Instead of being relieved over the idea of no longer having to sneak around with Theo, my thoughts can’t help but go to John.
“Mom, was there ever anyone before Dad? Not just a guy that came over ‘for coffee’ with his parents. But someone you actually liked?”
Her lips part slightly, and she pauses. “Yes. Kind of. But Teta and Sedo didn’t approve of him.”
“Why not?” I study my mother’s expression to see if I can read her, but her face hardens faster than cement. There was a second there where her mind had drifted to the past, but she pushed it back. She’s probably gotten good at pushing away certain memories.
“He wasn’t a good boy.”
“Why?”
“Lennon.”
“I want to understand what makes a boy ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ ”
Mom clenches her jaw. She wants me to drop it. But I’m so sick of this game my parents play, where they put people into categories and write them off. It’s archaic and elitist and shitty.
“He didn’t come from a good family. And he’d been engaged before. Sedo didn’t like him.”
“But you did,” I say.
Mom rises from the bed and walks toward her mirror. She stands in front of it and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “It didn’t matter. I couldn’t be with someone my parents didn’t like. That’s how it is.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Maybe for you. But not me.”
She turns around. There’s a strained smile on her face. “I don’t know why you’re getting upset. Theo is a good boy. We like him.”
“There’s someone else,” I blurt. “I like another boy more. John. He’s Theo’s friend.”
“No.” Her tone is brash. “Daddy doesn’t like this boy.”
I rise from the bed. “How do you know?”
Mom’s eyes dart to the bedroom door, then back to me. “Baba is smart. He told me about this boy after he came over. He sensed there was something between you and him. I told him he was being paranoid and that you liked Theo.”
The brutal truth of her words both slaps and stings my cheeks. The room spins and I swallow, trying to steady myself by breathing in and out, slowly.
“Theo came by this morning when you were shopping with Andie,” Mom says, seemingly putting an end to our conversation about John.
“He came here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I ask, standing in front of my mother, almost towering over her in my curiosity.
“He wanted to know if me and Baba would be okay with you and him spending more time together.” She smiles. “It was very sweet. He said he respected us both too much to sneak around.”
I drag a hand over my face. “No, he didn’t.”
“He did,” she says with a proud grin.
“And where was Dad during all of this?”
“Buying meat for tomorrow’s barbecue.”
Of course.
I can’t believe Theo. We said we would do this together. We agreed to do this together when the time was right.
I take in a deep breath and release it. “Does Dad know?”
“Yes. He said Theo could take you to the Fall Fair tonight.”
“We already had plans to go together. With Andie and her boyfriend. Dad knew that. What’s the big difference?” I ask.
“The big difference is you don’t have to hide how you feel about one another anymore. We’re not dumb, habibti. You don’t go from just friends to more than friends without something happening.”
I examine my mom’s face. This feels like a test. Like I’m supposed to either admit she’s right or deny that Theo and I have been sneaking around.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to date,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
She holds her hands out before clasping them together. “We make an exception for Theo. We know him. We know his family. And we know his heart. He will honor and respect your father’s wishes and take good care of you.”
A puff of laughter escapes me.
“It’s this or nothing,” Mom says, straightening. Her tone has shifted slightly.
I grit my teeth. “I guess it’s this.” I turn away and give the biggest behind-the-scenes eyeroll I can before forcing myself to open and close Mom’s bedroom door without slamming it or stomping away like the angry, petulant child I am.
Fuck. This. Shit.
And fuck Theo.
Theo texts me multiple times to confirm that he’ll be by at seven to pick me up for the Fall Fair. He keeps hinting at a surprise. All I can muster up in response is a “k.”
I am so annoyed with him.
He thinks he’s so clever. He thinks he’s fooled both me and my parents.
I’m not even sure who I’m madder at: him or myself. Clearly, he doesn’t know me as well as he’d like to believe he does. If he did, he’d have known not to do this.
“Lennon,” Dad calls, his voice strangely cheerful. “Theo is here.”
I check my reflection in my bedroom mirror, forcing out a breath in hopes it will unclench my jaw. I thought about faking sick, but why should I be stuck at home because Theo pulled some Neanderthal move behind my back?
Dad and Theo are smiling in the foyer, looking at me as I come down the stairs. Theo has flowers. He brought me flowers. How am I supposed to stay angry at him when he brings me flowers and looks so sweet and earnest standing next to my father? If Dad only knew.
Constantly living in fear of being found out is going to end me before my father does.
Mom takes my flowers, and Theo promises Dad that he’ll bring me home by ten-thirty. Dad throws up a hand and says with a wink, “Eleven is fine.”
Once we’re in Theo’s car, I put on my seat belt and try to find my center of gravity. I don’t want to start a fight, but I also don’t know if I can pretend like everything is okay.
“You’re quiet,” Theo says, reversing out of my driveway.
“I’m just trying to process the fact that you went behind my back,” I say, a razor-sharp edge to my voice.
“So they told you?” he says casually, no change in his tone.
“Yeah, Theo. My mother told me. But even if she hadn’t, the flowers would have been a big enough clue.”
“It’s great, right?” he says, stealing a glance at me and smiling.
When I don’t respond, his smile falters.
He continues driving, but I feel his eyes drifting in my direction every couple of minutes or so.
When we arrive at the fair, he drives onto the grassy lot and parks before turning in his seat to face me.
“You’re mad I didn’t run it by you first, right? ”
I unbuckle my seat belt and meet his eyes. “Yes, I’m mad about that. We’re supposed to be in this together. But you keep doing shit like this, completely disregarding that I have a voice in this relationship too.”
“What do you mean, ‘shit like this’?”
“Like when you said you’d tell John about us. But then you never did, and I ended up having to tell him before he saw us together.”
“So what if he had? Do you think he would have cared that much? You really have blown up whatever it was that happened between the two of you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.