Say Your Name (PT. 2)
“Mothers, most anyway, are the start and end of their child’s future. They nurse, teach, and take care of their children. It is nature.”
_— Hidden Dew_
Age 12
Mommy was acting suspicious.
I couldn’t tell it from her face, of course, but when ever Father got near her, she tensed up like a spring coil.
It should be me acting that way, though. I was the one with something to hide.
I was on draft two of my short story—I hadn’t thought of a title yet—but the main character was going to be mute. Definitely mute. I didn’t want a “normal” person to be the main character. Miss Amy said that the best and truest stories come from the heart, and my heart isn’t on the “normal” side.
Around lunch time I wanted to sneak myself off to my room to continue writing, but suddenly, Mommy was by my side and gripping my arm tightly. I didn’t startle, though I was confused. I would have startled more if it was a lighter touch, and she knew it. It pleased me that even if she was distracted by whatever was going on in her mind, she still had space to make me feel comfortable.
“Tull, sweetheart, do you want some ice cream?” I peered over the table to where Father was working on his newest website. Even though it was the weekend, Father still had plenty to do. It pleased me, seeing him rumpled and bleary-eyed.
I liked to see him suffer.
I nodded, procrastination taking over me. Miss Amy told me that the call of it was loud, but I never knew until then.
Mommy looked at Father, her face slack and a smile—not her happy, I-love-you smile, her fake, please-believe-me smile. I’d seen the latter too many times and the former not so much.
See, even I can tell the difference of these things. Only Mommy, though, no one else.
Father waved, his hands going back to typing and moving his mouse after he completed the motion. “Yeah, go have fun.”
That was all she needed.
“Come on, Tull,” her voice was quick and excited as we exited the house and went into her car, “I met someone new at my job, her name is Mrs. Kaylie, can you remember that? And she has a son who—oh! I won’t spoil the surprise.” Mommy seemed excited, but I was disappointed. If we weren’t getting ice cream, then this outing was a waste of time. I could be upstairs in my room, pen in hand and my notebook in the other, finishing the section I was working on.
I had no choice but to go along, as Mommy was smiling and my seatbelt was already on.
Tight.
Tight.
The tightness never felt so vile.
“Autism, or ASD (Autistic Spectrum Disorder), is not one simple thing. It comes in many forms. The common stereotype of a quiet, but intelligent White male child with headphones in just that: a stereotype.
I am a Black female, who is intelligent (though it is not my nature), hums, but speaks, I stim by drawing—though I do flap my hands—and I can look you in the eye, though I prefer not to. The state of the “normal” mind, sees in one view: stereotypes. They block anything else that paths away from those stereotypes.” _ —Hollow Oaks_
Age 12
There was a multi-colored Asian boy on the bench of Rose Park. Twitching, twisting, and making a strange, long noise as he rubbed the back of his hands along his cheeks.
The sight terrified me.
Mommy pulled me along, her grip on my wrist never growing slack. “Come on, Tull.” Then to the woman beside the sight she yelled: “Hey, Kaylie!” The sight looked up at her voice and waved. To my surprise, Mommy waved back, dragging me closer. And closer. And—
Is this how my Father sees me?
That was the thought in my mind. That ugly, ugly thought that had me straightening, tensing. I would not be like that man. I would say hello, I would look at the sight. I would be kind to the sight.
“Kaylie, this is my son, Tull.” Mommy pulled me in front of her. I gave her a glance, head tilted towards her but not looking at her, she nodded. I held out my hand and Mrs. Kaylie gave me a firm shake of the hands. I clapped in delight. She was the first grownup outside of Miss Amy and Mommy to give me what I needed.
“Hello, Tull, it’s nice to meet you.” Mrs. Kaylie had a pleasant, unsymmetrical face that was framed by her short hair. Her hair was sort-of black, sort-of brown. The same as the sight, who was cooing as he studied me and my mom. “And this, is my pom-pom Peter. I tried to get him to wear something different because of the weather, but he wanted to look his best to meet you and Tull, Patty.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet, Peter, thank you. You look…like confetti.”
“So, you know what the boss—“
“Which boss, the Tramp or the Devil?”
“The Devil.”
“Oh! What did she say?”
And then the grownups were to themselves, butting us out with their grownup talk. I had no choice but to face the sight—Peter, I told myself, think his name—and to walk towards him. I kept my gaze on a feather on what I saw was a rainbow sweater with swirls and pom-poms and glitter and buttons and every single decoration in every single color that you could imagine. It was blinding, and confused my eyes for a moment, and made me panicky, before I adjusted to it and thrust out my hand.
I barked.
He grabbed my hand and nodded his head deeply, more bobbing it really. His touch was soft, and before I could stop myself, I tried to shake it off. He tightened his grip just as a tried and cooed in apology.
He lifted his head back to mine, I noticed his eyes were brown, and rolled his neck with a small noise. “Roses?” He asked, letting go of my hand. His voice was less than a whisper, but my ears heard it. I looked behind me at the park and shrugged.
Peter hooted and launched himself off the bench towards the group of children that had piled up as we greeted each other. I stalked after him, a feeling I had never felt before rise up in me.
_How dare he leave me. Did he really think those kids would play with them. _
And then: I suppose that I’ll just have to play with him. That’s the most logical answer to his stupidity.
I had forgotten about my short story. Then, anyway.
(Yes, there will be a part three. I could never end the story on such a short note. I’ll probably make a PT. 2.5 on when Peter goes home with his mom and thinks about the day he had. As always, thanks for reading and have a wonderful day!)
