I've Arrived

Its a spoon

            Dusk is settling as a storm rolls its way in.
    
                 Egon receives a text from his Dad stating he won't be home until later. An unexpected meeting is holding him up. He instructs Egon to help himself to leftovers in the fridge.

           A bright flash is followed by a sharp crackle. Rain starts to pour.

            Vin squeaks, his back arches with all his fur standing up.

                Egon snickers at the display.
"Are you scared of a little storm?"

               "If you mean volts of electricity streaming down from the sky followed by sounds of explosions, yes, I'm very much scared."

               "When you put it that way, it does sound frighteningly deadly."

                 Suddenly, there are three distinct knocks at the front door.

                     This sends Vin cowering under the couch.

                  Most people wouldn't answer the door while darkness is gathering outside. During a storm and home alone. Egon is lacking that sense tonight.
He moves straight to the front door and opens it up.  Revealing a wet, bedraggled Luke.

         He must be here for those jerseys he left here.  They have to be pretty important to retrieve them in this weather.

          Egon ushers Luke inside. He grabs a bath towel from the bathroom and Luke's jerseys from his bedroom.

               After handing them to Luke, he watches as the boy uses all three items to vigorously wipe his face and attempt to dry his hair. It leaves his hair a mess, matching the atmosphere about him. Luke seats himself in his Dad's favorite recliner.
Seems he's going to wait until the storm tapers off to head home.

               Egon follows suit and seats himself on the couch. Vin senses the coast is clear. He shimmies out from under the couch and joins Egon.

            Luke seems to be internally wrestling with himself. He let's out a shuddering breath before he begins speaking.
"I came over to tell you something important. And, I'm just gonna out with it, like ripping off a bandaid." Exhale, inhale.
"I have Frontotemporal Dementia. It's the only form of dementia a teenager can get."

          He pauses to gather himself. Egon and Vin sit motionless. Frozen.

                  Luke's fingers drum on the armrest. Nervously, he swallows before continuing. "symptoms are headaches; migraines; losing consciousness; motor skill impairment; tremors; poor memory; memory lapses; forgetting words, names, places, people, you name it; zoning out; hallucinating; mood swings; psychosis.
I'm in early stages, so far my symptoms are brief and I come back to myself. It's different for every person with this, how it progresses and how fast it progresses. It may take a year or 20 years for things to get bad.
Eventually it's full on memory loss; long periods of being catatonic; seizures; and death. Death is the end game with this disease. It is terminal. There is no cure."

             His voice croaks.  Needing to clear his throat before moving onward.
"I was showing mild symptoms for a while, but nothing that was concerning to me or anyone else. Forgetting a specific word, not remembering homework or what I was doing,. shaky hands.
Until I passed out on the field during football practice. I was taken to the ER.  Scans were taken. They found the areas of my brain that have shrunk, and some atrophy. It was a clear diagnosis. After finding this out, my symptoms seem to have revved up."

"I tried going on as usual.   Except I was messing up passes during football.  Forgetting the plays. Couldn't distinguish who was my teammate and who wasn't.
I was royally fucking up games and every practice. Then, I was benched.
Honestly I don't even bother with it anymore. Football is nothing.
To everyone else it's everything.
All those friends, I cared what they thought of me..  they disowned me the moment I wasn't winning games. I've become a pariah, now that I'm no longer their hero on the field. That's all I ever was to them and to coach."

"They aren't even worried about my me. No one has asked if I'm ok besides my Mom and you.
I'm surprised my Mom hasn't contacted the school and coach about my diagnosis. I think she knows I'm holding onto normality as long as I can.
On the other hand, they haven't contacted my Mom about my difficulties at school. She thinks I'm still on the team, having practice and games. She doesn't know it's worsened and I'm struggling. I want to keep it that way as long as possible. I don't want her to know."

       Luke stops, runs his hands through his damp hair.

               Egon is unable to distinguish between what is dripping down Luke's face from his hair, or possibly his tears.
"Has your Mom, your Dad? Been supportive otherwise?"

             "My Dad has been out of the picture so long I don't remember him.
My Mom is extremely supportive. She's really stressed out. She works two full time jobs. This being added onto her plate has her more on edge.  I think she's giving herself an ulcer. Yesterday I found notes on the kitchen table, she was budgeting, trying to find a way to cut back or quit a job to be with me more.

She wants me to stay home all the time. Keep me in a bubble. She wanted to start me being homeschooled. I had to argue that.  What's the point of making that change mid-Junior year? While at school or out, I send her many messages to let her know I'm ok or call her. I told her tonight there is someone I really needed to talk to, and I wouldn't be long."

            He holds his trembling hands. Releasing another slow breathe.
"What happened tonight has me scared shitless. After I left your place, I made myself a bowl of soup. I was eating it until my Mom came home.
She screamed at me to drop a knife! What knife?! Only thing I was holding was a spoon. I told her again and again it's a spoon.
She became hysterical, bawling her eyes out. She took a picture of the spoon I was holding and showed it to me. She knows I use that method when I question myself, my sanity.
In the picture I really was holding a knife! Not a butter knife, no, the sharp one we use to chop vegetables. It's a hefty knife!
Thing is, I didn't only see a spoon, it felt like a spoon in my hand and in my mouth.
My brain and my senses fooled me in every way possible.
What freaks me out the most... This can happen anytime with anything! I realize now that I'm not only a danger to myself, but also to others. 
I'm fucked up, Egon. Not knowing what's real, what isn't. I can't trust myself!"
He bends over his head toward his knees. His body is wracked with sobbing.

          Vin rushes over to him, holding out a floral patterned handkerchief.
Luke accepts the offering, wiping his face of tears and hands it back.
Vin sniffles and blows his nose loudly into it. He carries it over to Egon, offering it to him. Egon shaking his head, choosing to wipe his own stray tears with his shirt sleeve.

          A ping sounds on Luke's phone. After checking it, Luke stands up.
"I should get going, My Mom is already worrying. She does knows where I am, how close your house is. But, she was already distraught after everything. I told her how badly I needed to talk to you."

       Egon stands and reaches over to Luke's phone.
"Here, I'll put my phone number in for you. You can text or call whenever you want to talk."

          "Tsk. Not fair, I don't have one of those gadgets." Vin whines.

               After entering his phone number into Luke's phone, Egon peers down at Vin,
"You can borrow mine to talk to Luke. I'll show you how to use it."

               Luke opens up the front door. "
Thank you Egon, for everything. I'll see you tomorrow."   He exits, back out in storm.

                 "Yeah, see ya." Egon mumbles a little too late.
His legs give out underneath him, sinking into the couch.  Buries his head in his hands.

                 Vin stares at the front door.
"That was heavy. Really, really heavy."