Page 54 of Yearning Difficulties

I bristled at that. Again, not true. ‘Do you really think that’s true? God, you can be really dense sometimes, Killian. He watched you audition. He wouldn’t let you get up there if you weren’t good enough. Don’t throw that back in my face. If I do, by some miracle, get into your mother’s seminar, will you hang that over my head, too? Make me feel like it’s some seedy business transaction?’

‘Is that how you see what we’re doing?’

The smell of his hoodie. The secret smile we’d started to concoct between the two of us. ‘No.’

‘Because that’s how you’re acting. Talking about things running their course.’

‘Stop pretending there’s some deeper meaning in my words, there isn’t.’

Something in his face darkened. ‘Well, you’re neurotypical, right? Or so you keep insisting. Neurotypicals LOVE to lace hidden meanings into their words so why shouldn’t I look? Now, if you were happy to own up to being one of us, I wouldn’t have to make that presumption. But you’re adamant, Red. So sure. You couldn’t possibly be. So yeah. I’ll treat you like the neurotypical you claim to be and take your words with a grain of salt.’

‘Fuck. You.’

The venom in my voice surprised him. He took a step back. I was shocked myself. It had sounded like someone else’s voice. Or maybe it was my true voice. The one I kept hidden and buried and locked in my chest.

‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ I said. Unmasked. Uncaring. ‘I’m sick of people talking like that to me! Whatever I am, it’s my business. And if there are certain things I’m scared to look at, I have reason to be! Do you think it would be easy for me? To go looking for answers to the questions I’ve been asked my whole life? Why are you so strange, Zella? Why do you talk so formally, Zella? Because what if I want what you’re saying to be true? An answer. An actual explanation. And then, what if I’m not? What if I get my hopes up and they tell me I’ve got that wrong as well?’

Killian shook his head as he stared at me, something desperate entering his face. ‘The idea that other people get to define you . . . that’s a response to a life full of constant othering, Red. Only an autistic would think that other people get to tell you who you are and what you can be. That you take second place in your own head and your own heart.’

Tears sprung from my eyes. ‘Stop it.’

‘No. It’s true. Do you really think I don’t know what I’m looking at right now? I know you. I. See. You.’

He was so close now, his body crowding me against the wall. I felt a bowstring pulled taut in my lower abdomen. A tight burn that Dave had never been able to inspire. ‘You don’t see anything.’

‘I do. And I saw what the past year has done to you. Had to watch him push and pull you, constantly trying to mould you into someone you’re not. Do you realize how unbearable it’s been? Having to watch you be with him?’

We were so close. His face only a breath away from mine. The bowstring pulled again and I wanted to get even closer.

But I couldn’t. Because this wasn’t real.

‘It’s not long until the cast feast,’ I said steadily, forcing myself to return to a person who was calm and composed. The girl I was supposed to be. ‘If you can hold on to just a little of this anger and these thinly veiled feelings of disdain, have at it. Put on a show. Make me a villain in front of everyone. I’ll make it so easy for you. I promise.’

He regarded me for a moment. ‘Wow.’

I wished I knew what was making me say it. I wished I could translate my own feelings, but they were foreign languages to me. Strange unfamiliar guests in my nervous system that never explained themselves until it was far too late.

For some reason, Dr Casey’s insipid sign flashed in front of my eyes. The fake-inspiring message about never saying ‘I don’t know’.

But I didn’t know. I never knew. I was a constant experiment to myself. I never knew which chemical reaction was coming.

‘We were doing really well,’ Killian said, his voice low and determined. ‘I fucked up tonight, but we were doing great.’

I didn’t know what he was getting at. ‘We’ve a few more days. Then the breakup. And I’m sorry I ever dragged you into this.’

I made for the door but he grabbed my arm, halting me in my tracks. I avoided his eyes, staring at the floor with no expression.

‘Red,’ he said hoarsely, ‘aren’t you tired of pretending?’

I was. But that was my business and nobody else’s.

I removed his fingers from my arm and left the party.

Nineteen

Creature

Today’s Track: ‘Gravity’ by Sara Bareilles