Chapter Twenty-Six October 19 #2
Theo’s eyes burn into mine as he shakes his head.
“Are all autistic girls like this or is this just a Lennon thing? You attach yourself to the first boy who ever paid attention to you? Romanticize him like he’s some brooding hero in a romance novel?
Open your eyes, Lennon. John is not into you.
I am. I’m your boyfriend. I love you. I’m the one who’s been there since the beginning, looking out for you.
John is just this idea you’ve built in your head.
He doesn’t feel one ounce of the love for you I feel.
Have you ever thought to ask yourself, if John loved you as much as you seem to believe he does, why he isn’t here?
Why isn’t he fighting for you?” He turns to face his steering wheel, striking it with both hands.
“This is such bullshit. I know you’re autistic.
I know your brain operates differently than mine.
But you’re living in a fantasy world if you think you and John could ever be together. ”
I grab my things and open the door, slamming it so hard his car shakes. Theo gets out, calling after me, and I can’t seem to make my feet move fast enough to get away from him. There are too many people. And muddy puddles to dart around. And sounds. Why is it so noisy?
“Lennon,” Theo calls again. Fainter this time.
I push my way through a family, locked arm in arm, taking up the width of the path, then make a sharp left until the entrance is in view. My feet move faster now. At the gate, I pull out a ten-dollar bill, ready to pay my own way inside.
I don’t need Theo.
I don’t need my father.
I don’t need anyone.
My phone keeps buzzing inside my jacket pocket, but I ignore it. He can’t speak to me that way. He can’t treat me like that. He just can’t.
I zip my fleece jacket, wishing I’d chosen something warmer. It’s chillier out here in the open. No buildings to shield me from the crisp October winds.
I text Andie to tell her I’m here. She says she’s in a long line for the haunted mansion with Kiefer and will text me when it’s over.
I wish it were just me and her here tonight.
Part of me wonders if this obsession with boys is just so I can prove something to myself.
To my parents. That I can still be someone worthy of their love while being allowed to explore all the things I want to explore.
It doesn’t have to be one or the other. It shouldn’t have to be.
Except, I seem to have developed a tunnel vision of sorts. John. Theo. Theo. John. Theo. Theo. John. John. John.
“Lennon?”
He calls my name and time stands still. John. I whip my head around to find him standing just a few feet in front of me. He’s studying me just as intensely as I’m studying him.
He takes a step closer. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes. No.”
“Which is it?” he asks with a hopeful smile.
“I’m here alone.”
“What about Theo?”
“I don’t—I don’t want to talk about him right now,” I say, and John nods, understanding. “Are you here alone?” I ask.
“I came with Eddie and his girlfriend, but they’re in line for the haunted mansion and I couldn’t be bothered to wait that long, so,” he shrugs, “here I am.”
A chuckle escapes me. “Eddie has a girlfriend?”
John laughs. “Yeah.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels, an adorable crease in his forehead. “Do you want to hang out for a bit?”
“Sure. I’ve never been here before,” I say as we start walking.
He turns to me and there’s a look of bewilderment on his face. “Not even in elementary school on a trip?”
“My parents didn’t see the educational value in coming here. I think they were worried about me getting lost in a big, open space. Or maybe they thought I might run away once I got the smallest taste of freedom.” I let out a strained laugh, but John doesn’t join in.
“Then I will take this as an opportunity to show you around.” He offers his elbow for me to slip my arm through, and I hesitate. His gentle gaze finds mine. “So you can’t run off or get lost.”
“Got it,” I say, looping my arm through his.
John shows me the cows and the chickens. The pigpen and the horses. We watch little kids take pony rides and we stop for hot chocolate–my treat. After the demolition derby, which John seems to really enjoy, we eat corndogs—his treat.
I responded to Theo’s texts by telling him I needed space. He hasn’t texted since.
Being here with John tonight, I feel like I’m in some sort of weird multiverse. Getting to experience what it would be like to be on a date with him. The ease. The comfort. The peace.
Is this what true happiness feels like?
“Ferris wheel?” John asks, pulling me away from my thoughts.
“Sure.”
We enter the rides section of the fairgrounds. We haven’t said anything in minutes but it’s okay. It’s kind of nice being close to him and not having to fill in all the silences with small talk.
“We got lucky,” he says as the carnival worker lifts the rope and lets us in. “No line.”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling to myself at the irony of it all. How lucky and unlucky I feel in this moment. Timing and chance once again dangling a piece of fruit in front of me, almost within reach.
John leads and I nervously sit on the seat belt buckle. He gently pulls the belt from underneath me and buckles us in.
He watches me and laughs. “You’re scared.”
“No.”
“Lennon, you’re stiff as a board.”
“Okay, fine. I’m not the biggest fan of heights.”
“You could have said no,” he says, a small frown on his face.
“I know. But I wanted to.”
“You’ve never ridden a Ferris wheel before?”
Our seat rises to accommodate the next riders, and I grip the silver lap bar with one hand, trying to pretend I have an ounce of cool.
“I have. With my dad. The huge one at the Santa Monica Pier. The summer before ninth grade. But it was before dark. It’ll be nice to experience it at night with all the lights. It’ll be pretty, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, his eyes on mine. “Very pretty. So how was it then?”
We continue to be jolted up as the seats fill with passengers below us. The line is growing quickly.
“By the time we got on, the sun was almost setting, and it gave us the most beautiful view of the coastline. We were stopped for a while, right at the top, and I was a bit anxious.” John looks down at my hand still gripping the bar and smirks.
I release it, wiping the sweat on my thigh.
“Okay. I was scared out of my mind. My dad sang the theme song to this old show he used to love to distract me.”
“Oh yeah? What show?”
“I doubt you’d know it. It’s really old.”
“Try me,” he says.
“Three’s Company.”
John laughs. “I know that one. It plays on the old comedy channel at midnight. Eddie and I watched it a few times. High.”
Now we both laugh.
The ride begins and we go around. Admittedly, the view of the rural fairgrounds, even at night, doesn’t quite compare with southern California, but it’s still nice.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” John replies, his hair blowing in the breeze.
“Why did you change seats in Music?”
He shifts around slightly, his thigh pressed against mine, as a noticeable silence lingers. “I thought it was the right thing to do,” he says finally.
In the distance, some Celine Dion song plays, filling the quiet that follows his response.
“Why are you like that?” I ask.
“Like what?”
“You’re always doing the ‘right thing.’ Doesn’t it get exhausting being so damn virtuous?”
He shakes his head. “If you knew what I was thinking half the time, you wouldn’t be describing me as virtuous.”
“What’re you thinking right now?” I ask as we come to a stop at the top of the Ferris wheel. “The cold, hard truth. Screw being virtuous.”
“The mouth on you,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Does your father know?”
I squirm in my seat, pulling my leg away from the warmth of John’s. “I don’t want to talk about him. Okay?”
“Alright. No Theo. No father. Any other topics off-limits?”
“You tell me,” I say, looking out over the fairgrounds. It’s funny, because right this second, I don’t want to be up here stuck with John, but I also want to be here more than words can express.
“The truth is I’m thinking about how much I’m enjoying being with you tonight,” John says simply.
“I never said we had to stop being friends.”
“Come on,” he says, his head tilted. “You know we can’t.”
“Because of Theo?”
“No.”
“Then why?” I ask, turning to him.
“Because of us.”
Us. I didn’t realize there was still an us to be discussed.
At least from his perspective. John and everything we shared together will always exist in my heart and my memories.
And probably, years from now, he’ll be the giant cloud that hangs over me, asking What if?
The thought of that alone cracks something deep inside me.
“What are you doing after you graduate?” I ask, because I want to change the subject and because I really want to know.
I need to know. I keep thinking if I learn more about John, he’ll be less of this perfect specimen my mind has built him up to be, and more of a real, flawed human I could possibly convince myself I don’t love.
“I’m not sure. I’m applying to colleges.” He shrugs, looking out into the distance. “My dad’s friends tell me I can get a job with them. But I don’t want to be one of those people who wake up every day dreading going into work. I want to love what I do.”
“What do you love?”
“Love doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Is that what you think we were put on earth to do?” I ask. “Pay bills?”
He shakes his head, looking at me as if I’m a child who still dreams of a fairy-tale prince who will save her from herself.