Disconnected ; Lashton

29. Becoming the Memory

“Lukey, up!” Lauren calls up at me whilst making grabby hands. I smile and reach out for her but Ashton stops me.

“Lauren, what do we say?” He asks her in a lecturing tone. I feel my heart skip a beat watching him be such a mother.

“Um, up, please?” Laurens tries again. I nod my head and lift her right up in my arms.

“Good job,” Ashton praises her. I don’t have to move Lauren up in my grip very far for her to reach the tip-top of the Christmas tree we’ve just finished decorating together for her to add the finishing touch- the star. She plops it on and cheers as I slowly lift her down and place her gently onto her feet.

“All done!” Ashton cheers with her.

“Not yet!” Harry retorts before running off to his room. Ashton and I give each other questioning looks before he runs back in with something clutched in his right hand.

“I made this orn-dament.” He says, pronouncing the word ‘ornament’ incorrectly in the cutest way possible. He hands it to me and Ashton looks at it over my shoulder with me. My chest fills with warmth at a drawing of two stick figures holding hands, one taller than the other. The taller of the two has my name written over it and the smaller one is ‘Harry’ so of course, it's the two of us. The drawing is on a star-shaped paper attached to some yarn for it to be hung. I hold it carefully in my palms as I smile down at it then shift my gaze to Harry who’s looking up at me expectantly.

“I love it.” I say softly. Harry's face drops and his mouth opens a little as his eyes widen. His reaction is understandable seeing as this is the first time I’ve spoken in front of him since- well, ever. Ashton rubs my back encouragingly as I hang the ornament up high on the tree. I feel as though I’ve made a special place for myself in this home. Having myself be drawn onto an ornament on the Irwin Christmas tree is an honor high above any other. It’s surely a memory I’ll never forget.

Lately, I’ve been surprising myself more and more often. Out of the blue, I’ll find it easy to speak out loud without needing to think about it or push myself to do so. Things will just come out. Usually only a few words at a time, but it’s a start, isn't it? Ever since I opened up to my mum last week, it’s been simpler for me. I can go home and talk to her pretty much all day if I want to, but when I’m in public or around anyone else who isn't Ashton, I’m still mostly quiet. I look forward to the day when I’ll be able to speak openly without any limits- because I know it’ll come. It just has to. I don’t want to be silent, I want to be heard.

I guess that saying ‘the truth will set you free’ does have some truth to it. I don’t feel as trapped anymore; like I’m choking on air. Words come out smoother and I don’t shut down all the time. I mean, I’m still quiet more often than not, but that can change.

My smile widens when Harry hugs me around my legs. I lean down to complete the hug and take him in my arms instead. Although we’re not related, I’m happy that he sees me as an older brother. Sometimes I think maybe he and Lauren are so bent on the idea of me being their brother-in-law because Ashton is less like an older brother and more like a mother to them. He did practically raise them, and still does to this day.

Ashton and I sit back on the couch and mindlessly watch some Barbie Christmas movie Lauren requested. As happy as this day is, and as relaxed as I may seem, I’m freaking out on the inside. It’s Monday tomorrow and I have my first therapy session scheduled for after school. It probably won’t even be that bad, but I’m just terrible with new people. I know I won’t be able to speak and even though I know I shouldn't feel bad about it, it’s embarrassing. I’m supposed to be trying to stop beating myself up over everything, but I can’t get over my shame in a matter of weeks. It just doesn't work like that. I still find myself alone in my bedroom when my mum isn't home, standing in front of my mirror and practicing how to talk to people. It doesn’t do me much good, but I won’t give it up. I just want to be normal like everyone else, even though it’s impossible for me. I’ve come to terms with the fact that even if I can start talking again, I’m still much different from the average population in many ways. I know that I am, but I don’t know why. Perhaps a therapist could help me find out? Or is that what psychologists do? Oh god, I really don’t want to see a psychologist. I don’t want to do any of this. I just want to stay on this couch with my boyfriend forever and forget about the world. For now, that’s what I’ll do.