Chapter Twenty
Jeremey
I hung out in a strange headspace while Emmet was at his parents’ house. I was upset, yes, and I absolutely had an Ativan. But I wasn’t hysterical, which is what I would have predicted. I felt more numb than anything. I think if I’d been alone in our apartment, I would have flipped out for sure, but they kept me in the lounge. Tammy sat with me, and Stuart made me a smiley face out of macaroni glued on a piece of construction paper. “Happy,” he told me as he presented his art project, and then he started playing Pharrell Williams on his portable stereo.
Happy wasn’t an option for me at that particular second, but I did appreciate the gesture.
David hung out in the lounge too. When he asked why I was upset, I couldn’t answer, so Tammy told him Emmet and I’d had a fight.
Funny, I didn’t start crying until she said that.
It wasn’t a loud cry, thank God, only silent tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how many times I wiped them away. I didn’t feel anxious at all, and even my sadness was weirdly muted. I wondered if it was the drugs. For half a second a tiny voice tried to say maybe I wasn’t too anxious because I knew deep down Emmet wouldn’t leave me, not for something so small. The hope drowned quickly in my usual negative thoughts, but I had enough presence of mind left to get that was a victory for me, that something this big had happened and I’d had that kind of faith at all.
David rolled closer, running his chair into the end table a few times as he navigated closer. “Hey.” He touched my shoulder awkwardly with his left hand, half missing it. “What happened?”
I wanted to tell him—I needed to tell him. I was pretty sure I was going to have to choose between him and Emmet, and I needed to choose Emmet. But of course, though all the words banged around in my head, I couldn’t get them past my mouth. It was the hospital all over again, except this time Emmet wasn’t there with me. I let out a watery sigh instead.
Tammy rubbed circles on my back. “It’s going to be okay. Marietta texted a minute ago and said they’re coming.”
That didn’t make me feel better. It made me terrified. I shut my eyes and sank deeper into the couch.
Tammy slid her hand up to massage my neck gently. “Shh. Every couple has fights. You two will make it through. I know it.”
“What are they fighting over?” David asked.
Tammy said nothing, but when I glanced at her, I saw she was looking at me, silently asking for permission.
I nodded. Yes, please, tell him so I don’t have to.
Tammy ruffled my hair while she answered David. “They’re fighting over you, sugar.”
“What? Me? Why?”
She hesitated before answering, and I shut my eyes and leaned into her, abruptly exhausted. I wanted to go to bed, pull the covers over my head and cry. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see Emmet tonight, especially if he was angry with me.
Before Tammy could answer, though, I heard a familiar loud whisper. I lifted my head in a sharp jerk and opened my eyes to see Emmet standing with Marietta at the door.
Too late I realized what would happen when Emmet saw David with me. Then I did panic.
Tammy gentled me as Emmet and his mom came over. I felt like a rabbit, though, my heart beating too fast, my body ready to take off at the first sign of trouble. I couldn’t look at him, not even when he stood in front of me. Not until I saw his hands moving—signing.
I’m sorry.
My breath came out in a ragged rush. It wasn’t quite relief, but it was close. I looked up at him, at his beautiful, quiet face, his brow knit, his lips flat.
I’m sorry too, I signed.
For a second I thought he’d say something, but he frowned with his gaze near David. He signed something more complicated than I could read, so when I looked confused, he pulled out his phone and typed instead. He passed it over.
May I speak to you in private please? When I looked nervous, he pulled his phone back and added, I won’t yell. I promise.
Swallowing against my dry throat, I held out my hand for the phone.
Will you leave?
He read the message, then hummed as he typed.
If I’m too upset, I’ll leave until I calm down. I don’t want to be upset in front of you. You wouldn’t like it. So yes, I’ll leave if I’m upset. I’ll come back when I’m calm. The way I did now.
I stared at the message for a long time after I’d read it. I had so many feelings at once, loud even through the Ativan. The hope that had winked before flared back to life, and as Emmet took my hand and led me upstairs, the feeling burned inside me.
He hadn’t been rejecting me. I wasn’t such a disappointment he couldn’t stand me. He didn’t go away because I was too pathetic and worthless to be around. He did it to protect me—from himself.
I wanted to hug him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to make love to him again, touch him everywhere. I wanted to dance with him, hold him, everything all at once. But he was serious as we entered our apartment, and I was too shy, so I didn’t do any of those things.
He sat me on the couch, and he sat in the chair across from me. He rocked as he spoke, and flapped gently, and when he paused, he hummed.
“I’m sorry, Jeremey. Hmmmmm.” Flap, flap, flap. “I shouldn’t have been angry about you working for David. I shouldn’t tell you who you can work for. That’s not being hmmmmmmmm a good boyfriend.”
“No,” I said, aching for him. I could feel how difficult this was for him, and I wanted it to stop. “No, I should have thought it through. I was being selfish. I’ll tell David I can be his friend, but I can’t work for him.”
“You need to be selfish. Hmmmmm.” He flapped so hard I thought he might fly. “You should work for him. You’re right. It’s a good job for you.”
His voice was gruff, and I panicked. I pulled at my fingers as my insides tangled into knots. “But I don’t want you to be upset. I don’t want you to be angry with me.”
“I’m not angry with you. Hmmm.”
“You sound angry. You’re upset. You can’t stop humming.” I put my hands on my thighs and dug my fingernails in until it hurt. “It’s okay. There are other jobs. I can get a different one. No job is worth losing you.”
His gaze flickered to my face, almost my eyes before darting away. He rocked once, then stopped, as if he’d tripped over something. “It’s not right for me to ask you to quit a job because I don’t like it. That’s…hmmm…abusive behavior.”
The way he said it, I knew his mom had told him that. Now the panic was a squirrel climbing to the top of my head, ready to eat off my face. “I don’t care.” I paused, realizing how that sounded. “I mean—it isn’t. It’s fine. I don’t want to work for him anymore.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t lie, Jeremey. You suck at it.”
The tears, never far, spilled over. “Please, Emmet—please. I don’t want him. I want you. I love you.”
He stopped rocking. Stopped humming. Holding still as a statue, he stared at my chin. He looked…shocked. It was subtle, but I was getting good at reading subtle.
I signed it. I love you, Emmet. “Always,” I added in a whisper.
He let out a heavy breath, then rocked gently. “David’s handsome. Flirty.”
I blinked. What—really? “Are—are you jealous?”
Still staring at my chin, Emmet nodded.
I couldn’t believe this. “But, Emmet—he’s not gay.”
“You are. You could like him better. And he’s a bully. He could take you away for fun.”
I couldn’t imagine a universe where David would try or I would go. “I don’t care for him that way.”
“You might get to know him and change your mind.”
“Well, unless he turns into you, I’m not interested. He’s too scruffy and loud for me. For a boyfriend.”
Emmet rocked more, but it was almost a sway now, no longer jerky. “He’s sassy.”
He was. “The wrong kind of sass for me.”
Emmet’s gaze moved to my knees as he went still. “He doesn’t have autism. His spine is broken, but his brain is fine.”
“So is yours,” I whispered.
He shut his eyes and put his hand over his heart as he resumed rocking gently. “Say it again.”
I smiled, loving that I knew him well enough to know what he was after. “I love you, Emmet. I’ll love you always. I’ll love you always best.”
Eyes still shut, he smiled, so wide and bright it was like sun burst into the room.
I love you too, he signed.
I crept quietly over to him. Kneeling between his legs, I kissed the hand over his heart.
Emmet and I were better after our conversation, but he didn’t like David any more than he had before. This didn’t surprise me, but David’s reaction did.
“He seriously hates me. Why? What the hell did I do?”
David asked this when he and I were taking a trip to Wheatsfield on our fifth day of working together. I didn’t have a set schedule, as David wasn’t sure what he needed, and I was too worried about letting everyone down. For now, I was officially available when I wasn’t otherwise occupied during the day, when Emmet was in school and during the time he studied. David texted me when he wanted help, and I came when I could. So far that was every time, but he kept saying I could say no if I needed to.
I hadn’t answered David’s question, and I didn’t know how to. I’d tried several times, and David didn’t understand. “He calls you a frat boy.”
David snorted. “Not quite. I was going to pledge, but I drove into a tree first. What would that have to do with anything, anyway? Is this about me being a bully? All I’ve done is tease him.”
I thought about pointing out to David that this is what bullies did, but he didn’t see things that way, and in any event, this conversation made me nervous. “You’ll have to ask him about it.” I started saying that every time he asked, but he didn’t stop asking.
A few times I saw David try to approach Emmet, but if anyone was oil and water, it was these two. Sometimes I sat with Tammy on the other side of the room and watched them interact badly with one another. We could see the train wreck a mile before it happened, just as clearly as we could tell there wasn’t any way around it. Emmet was sure he knew exactly who David was, and as much as David tried, he seriously had no concept of Emmet.
“I think you should study autism,” I told him one day when Emmet was at school and we sat together in David’s room, David venting frustration at how antagonistic Emmet was to him. “His disorder isn’t everything about who he is, but it’s a huge part of him. Learning might help you see him more clearly.”
“Like read a book?” David hated reading.
I remembered “Carly’s Cafe” and pulled it up on YouTube.
David had the same kind of visceral reaction to it that I had—more so, even. The first time he watched it, he didn’t say anything, only fumbled on the iPad’s screen to make the video play again. On the second viewing it was as if something cracked on his face, pain breaking through the clay he’d packed around his emotions. I didn’t let him try to replay it a third time. I simply restarted it for him. I wasn’t surprised when tears ran down his face.
He closed his eyes and sat still for almost half a minute before he spoke. “Okay—shit.” He pulled his forearm up to wipe his face. I got the sense that if he’d had full use of his hands, he’d have pinched his nose. Instead he covered his eyes for a second as his lip quavered. Then he lowered his arm with a heavy sigh. “That’s autism? She doesn’t seem anything like Emmet. She’s a hell of a lot more like me. People treating you as if you’re their fucking pet. Weird shit getting to you. Everything being too loud. It never used to be that way for me, but with my spine shut down, everything else is turned way up. The not being able to do what you want or explain it right—I swear I’m speaking English, but nobody hears me when they see the chair.”
I remembered watching the first time and feeling the same way, that Carly was more like me than Emmet. And yet now that I knew Emmet better, had read Carly’s father’s book, watched her other videos, I understood how he and she were similar. I thought it was interesting, though, how we all three saw her experience as ours.
I showed him more videos, and we downloaded the audiobook of Carly’s Voice. Over the next few days, whenever he’d advanced a few chapters, he asked me questions. I showed him other books about autism, some websites, and he asked more questions, especially about emotions.
“This stuff keeps saying he has a difficult time expressing emotions, but he doesn’t have any trouble showing me he hates me.”
I wasn’t sure why David cared so much that Emmet didn’t like him. I liked David fine—he was bossy a lot, and intense, but I was impressed with how much he refused to let his disability define him or limit his life. We were venturing out deeper and deeper into Ames, taking the bus anywhere it would go. We’d gone all the way out to west Ames and gone bowling, which I had been sure would be a disaster, but David talked me into helping him roll a ball down the lane—always into the gutter, but he did it over and over again, taking pride in the fact that he’d figured out a way to roll the ball with a broom strapped to his wrist. We went to campus sometimes, but not often. It depressed David, the way people looked at him.
It occurred to me he and Emmet had that in common, but I didn’t bring it up.
All through September and into October, I watched the two of them dance around each other. Everyone did. David tried to get Emmet to like him, but he tried too hard, and the wrong way, and Emmet only disliked him more.
“One of these days, the firework they keep throwing at each other is going to go off,” Tammy said.
The first week of October, it did.