Page 31 of In the Middle of No(ah)where
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Slipping into a booth near the back of the dining room at Bamboo Garden, the initial awkwardness of our reunion begins to dissipate, replaced with a familiar comfort from years ago. But my anxiety about opening up to him in regards to what I've been struggling with thrums beneath the surface.
I begin to twist the cloth napkin in my lap.
I look up to see Marcus' narrow honey eyes on me. "Now that it's just us," Marcus begins, "I want you to be completely honest with me. I know you put on a great show for people, but I want to know therealNoah. The one I used to know. How have youreallybeen?" He asks me without judgment in his tone.
"I… I've been okay." The words sound unconvincing at best, even to me. "Some days are better than others," I tell him without elaborating.
"Thank you for being honest. I'd like to hear about what's been going on. I know we lost touch, but now that we've reconnected and we're living in the same place, I wouldn't mind getting to know you again. I know we can't just pick up where we left off, but I'd like to try." He tells me.
"I would love that," and I would. My heart felt like it was missing a part of itself, although we were never really together. Something about him calmed me in a way I have never felt before. What would have happened if he was around? Would I have added the new scars? The scars. I feel the muscles in my face drop.
"Why do I feel like there's abutcoming on?"He asks.
"But…I need to be honest about some things before we move this any further." I feel my eyes stinging at the thought of him rejecting me. After two years of longing for this man, I've finallygotten him back. The idea that he would leave me is scary. But I would rather he know the truth and go rather than for me to get attached and end up broken-hearted.
The waitress coming to take our order gives me a moment to figure out how to navigate this conversation without scaring him off within the first five minutes. The edge of regression is coming on because it would be easier to tell him in a jovial manner. Like when I told my parents.
Wear long sleeves so no one can see what you've done.That was mom.
I'll arrange an appointment for you to speak with a therapist.That was the pediatrician.
What the hell were you thinking?Do we need to hide the knives now?That was Dad.
The disappointment on everyone's faces is ingrained in my memory. I felt so ashamed, but I couldn't stop. It was the only thing that calmed the chaos.
I started the conversation tentatively, circling around anything too deep. I discussed my job at the coffee shop and playdates at the community center. I hoped he would show up since his friend had been there a few times with Kai. I also talk about how I've learned to navigate life as an adult on my own. Marcus reciprocated and told me about completing his thesis and securing a job at the zoo. He was initially hired to work with the giraffes, but since Barrett and he are good friends, Barrett was able to get him a departmental transfer fairly easily. Although he helps take care of the elephants in the day-to-day stuff, most of his job is actual research to study them. The more Marcus talks, the more I'm mesmerized.
I briefly discussed college and the concerns associated with taking a campus tour and attending classes. Marcus mentions online courses to start. I have taken one, but it wasn't for me. I tell him about my ADHD, the struggles with distractions,and the difficulty in studying. Marcus informs me that there are accommodations available on campus to assist me, such as taking my exams in a quiet room without distractions and even receiving extended time on assignments. What's this now? I'm dumbfounded. He even mentions that while I study, I should try using noise-cancelling headphones to limit distractions.
"I've seen kids at school with Autism using them, so I just thought it was an Autism thing. You know, like they are overstimulated or something."
"Well, that's one way to look at it," he tells me. "It's to help cancel out the soft noises that we hear, and most of us don't pay attention to. Ambient noise. You can still hear, but it may help your brain not be overstimulated so you can focus."
"Are you sure about all this?" I ask with a soft laugh. "It sounds too good to be true."
My mom's voice pops into my head, reminding me to keep up appearances and always put our best foot forward. What would she say if she knew I was even considering getting extra help and support like this? Would I have been labeledas having special educationneeds while in school? If so, would it have been so terrible? I knew several kids in high school who were pulled out for extra support. Would I have struggled as much if I had the support I needed?
"Of course. A lot of people struggle and get the help and support they need." He reaches over the table and lays his hand on top of mine. "If you'd like, Noah, I can help walk you through it." I'm at a loss for words. He's offered me more help in the past two minutes than my parents have my whole life.
As the conversation continued, I told him about some of the chaos and noise in my brain. How it has often left me feeling alone or isolated, like an alien from one of my drawings. "Sometimes, the darkness takes over, and it becomes too much," I tell him as a tear leaks from the corner of my eye.
"What…what helps you…you know…cope?" He tentatively asks.
I slowly turn my hand over underneath his. At first, Marcus intertwines our fingers and offers a comforting squeeze. But then, I pull on my shirt sleeve just enough so he can see the scars dotting my wrist. Most of them are only an inch or so long, but there is one that is raised and long, running underneath the cuff of my shirt.
My eyes shift to his. The honey color has darkened to a chocolate brown. Lips parted. He stares for a minute. My eyes are locked on his, but his eyes are locked on the wounds. "Noah." My name is a whisper leaving his mouth. Tears leak from his eyes as he releases my hand and scoots out from his side of the booth. I knew it would be too much. The date is over, and I was right. It's better that I know now rather than falling deeper into feelings when, eventually, it would all come crashing down anyway.
15
Marcus
When Noah pulls his sleeve up, the first thing I notice is the discoloration of his skin. It takes my brain a second to process what I'm seeing. Are those…cuts? Did he do them himself? Some of them look old. Others are newer, pink still splashed around the edges. It's not until he pulls the sleeve a little higher that I notice the more pronounced scar leading underneath the cuff.
Oh, my sweet boy.
I'm at a loss for words. If I open my mouth, I may sob. My eyes lock onto his as I remove my gaze from the scars.
