Reclaiming the Sand

He released the fry and I allowed him to withdraw his hand and pulling it into his lap. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t excuse his deplorable ma

“People aren’t nice to me a lot of the times. They look at me a lot. Kevin said I had to learn to deal with it. That getting upset and angry would just make them look at me more. It’s hard though. Because I just want to tell them to fuck off,” he gri

“Fly

He didn’t pick up on my attempts at a joke and instead hung his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I clucked my tongue in frustration. “I was kidding, Fly

I cleared my throat, feeling suddenly embarrassed and self-conscious.

“Well, Kevin sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. Is he a friend?” I asked, trying to turn the conversation back into more comfortable territory.

“No, he’s my therapist. He helps me a lot. He tells me how to act in public and when I’m being rude. I can tell when people are angry now. And when I say something to upset someone, I know by the look on their faces. But I still mess up a lot. I still have a lot to learn.”

We had never talked about his disability much before. When we were younger I had been too ignorant and self-involved to think about what was going on with him. But I hoped I had grown up a bit in the last six years since to understand a little of what he went through.

He was different. He was more than a little odd.

But looking at him, staring into his lap, chewing on his bottom lip, I also knew he was more than a little special.

“That’s awesome, Fly

Fly

“I wasn’t done with that,” I admonished.

Fly

“Here,” he said and I pushed it back towards him.

“I’m not going to eat it now that you’ve taken a bite out of it, am I?” I cocked my eyebrow.

Fly

“Yeah, it was. But I’m not that hungry, so it’s cool,” I told him.

“I have banana bread if you want. It’s my mom’s recipe,” he offered, going to the counter and putting a slab onto a plate and bringing it back to me.

“Sure, banana bread sounds great,” I replied, taking it from him. I might not be very hungry, but I couldn’t pass up banana bread.

“I like being with you. I missed you,” Fly

He missed me.

After everything I had done to him.

He missed me.

I couldn’t respond. I had nothing to say to that. I couldn’t reciprocate because I hadn’t missed him. I had spent most of the last six years despising him. Blaming him for things that weren’t his fault. It had just been easier to hate him than to hate myself.

“You stopped talking to me. After my birthday. You never called me again. Mom said to leave you alone. That you weren’t my friend. But you were my friend. Because you told me I was and I believed you.” His eyes were bright and even though he wouldn’t look directly at me, I knew his eyes were wet.

I should tell him the truth. I should shatter his illusions of me before they could grow into something more dangerous.

His mother hadn’t told him what I had done. She had saved him from that particular pain. I didn’t know whether to be thankful or upset that she had done that. Because now here we were, six years later, on the cusp of something not yet realized and I struggled.

I wanted to tell him. But I wanted to lie as well. I liked the way he looked at me. To Fly

My self-destructive side urged me to tell him everything. To sever the delicate bond that was forming between us.

But I had another side that insisted on silence. The side that was scared to see this new Ellie disappear; because she was a girl who liked to feel. And the numbness of my past just wouldn’t cut it anymore.

Before I could be truthful or dishonest, Fly

“Do you want to watch TV? You like TV. We could watch the A-Team,” he suggested.

“I love the A-Team,” I said, slowly joining him in the doorway leading into the other room.

“I remember,” he said, a shy smile on his face. His hair fell into his eyes and I wished he’d let me brush it back off his forehead. Our touches had hardly ever been intentional. And when they were purposeful, they had never lasted long enough.

I had been okay with that. Because touching him would be to admit a physical closeness I didn’t want and I convinced myself that I didn’t need.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

We got comfortable on the couch that I realized was brand new. The sale tags were still attached to the arms.

Fly

“You watch a lot of Laverne and Shirley?” I smirked.

“They’re fu

“Well, let’s watch Laverne and Shirley then,” I told him, watching as he sat on the other end of the couch.

He sat upright, his hands in his lap, his feet flat on the floor. He didn’t look particularly comfortable.

So we watched television together. And I smiled at the sound of Fly

I spent more time watching Fly

He really was sort of amazing. After everything life had thrown at him, here he was, whole and healthy. He hadn’t become embittered or angry. He had become content and fulfilled in ways I could never understand.

He had welcomed me into the home I had destroyed. He sat beside me, sharing his space, opening his heart and even though I felt the weight of my truth deep in my soul, I also felt the joy.

Had I ever felt joy before?

Yes I had.

Once.

With him.

I surged upwards on my feet, startling Fly

“I have to go,” I told him suddenly.

His frown deepened.

“You don’t like the show? I can change the cha

I shook my head.

“I don’t fucking want to watch TV!” I fumed, unable to hold back the outburst that barreled its way out of my chest.

I needed to leave. The hateful part was combating the tiny shred of happiness that had unwillingly unfurled in my gut. The happiness didn’t belong there. It had no place in the black pit of my heart.

“You’re mad,” Fly

Yes I was mad. I was freaking furious. But it made no sense.

I was fucked up. I was scarred and ruined. I would taint him with my ugliness.

I needed to leave.

“I just need to go.” I didn’t explain. There was no way I could give voice to the demons possessing me.

“I’ll drive you. I can watch the A-Team tomorrow. It’s on at 5:00 every day.” I was sick and tired of hearing about the stupid A-Team!