The Entirely Fabricated Story of Lizzie Nickerson

Chapter 34

Now that Lizzie had her own private access to the internet, she researched and read until her iPhone battery died. She read about autism, particularly Autism Spectrum Disorders.

Indigo had always told Lizzie that she wasn't different from any other kid, but Lizzie knew that wasn't true. She was different in a lot of ways but her mother cut off the conversation by saying, "Being different is a good thing" and then abruptly changed the subject. It wasn't lost on young Lizzie (Maribeth Finch at the time) that her mother contradicted herself. Lizzie couldn't be 'no different than any other kid' and also praised for being different.

Indigo didn't believe in doctors so there were no consultations with pediatricians or medical professionals who may have suggested that Lizzie likely was on the spectrum. They used to call it Asperger's Syndrome until someone pointed out that Hans Asperger was associated with the Nazi party. This part was confusing because Lizzie read that Nazis often have their own parades in American cities and some politicians called them "very fine people." Lizzie didn't think anything about Nazis was very fine but anyway, she understood why nobody liked to use the term Asperger's Syndrome anymore.

There never had been an official diagnosis, but after reading dozens and dozens and dozens of online articles, Lizzie's long-held suspicions were confirmed. She always knew she had an autism spectrum disorder. It didn't make her feel bad. In fact, she felt just the opposite.

As Saturday approached, Lizzie experienced an unfamiliar feeling, a little flutter in her stomach that grew more intense when she thought about her friend - her only friend - Scooter. The enthusiasm began to expand and take over, creating another version of Lizzie but it was a version that excited her. Habitually, she rejected new feelings, pushing them away into the hole where difficult, troubling emotions were discarded but she welcomed this new feeling. It felt positive and energizing.

When she exited the bathroom, body, and hair wrapped in towels, Sonya said excitedly, "Lizzie! That's your third shower this week!"

"I know it is."

"Well, that's a good thing."

"Oh, geez. It's just a shower. It's not like I solved climate change." She felt bad about snapping at her aunt, the moment she said it.

Sonya said, "I was just saying–"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for congratulating me for taking a shower. I'm in a bad mood because water kept splashing on my face."

The polite thing to do in most cases was to thank someone for a compliment but for some reason, it didn't feel right, or maybe Lizzie didn't say it the right way. Sonya told her that no one is born with social skills. Social skills are learned, they need to be taught but most of the time Lizzie felt like her brain didn't know how to process social skills. At least she was making an effort.

She tromped into her room and then did a slow turn, examining the assortment of clothes on the floor. The turning made her dizzy so she sat down, inspecting the clothes from her bed. Her gray, oversized hoodie was bunched up next to the cargo pants she didn't really like. She saw her high tops but where was her favorite blue zip-up? Her lightheadedness had subsided, so she bounded from the bed into the hallway and called out, "Where is my blue zip-up?"

Sonya entered the kitchen. "It's in the laundry."

"Oh, geez. When do I get it back? I want to wear it on Saturday."

"It'll be out of the dryer in an hour."

"You mean today?"

"Yes. Today. Tuesday. Laundry day."

"But what if you forget and it gets lost in the dryer with the other clothes?"

"I don't lose clothes or forget about them, Lizzie," she answered with a tight smile. "Don't worry. I do laundry every Tuesday. You know that. Your blue zip-up will be nice and clean for Saturday. I promise."

"Why don't we have ice cream?"

"What?"

"You said laundry day is Tuesday and that made me think of grocery day. Wednesday."

"Right."

"Can we get some ice cream tomorrow on grocery day? Wednesday?"

"I didn't think you wanted ice cream."

"Who doesn't want ice cream? That doesn't even make sense."

"Okay. I'll buy ice cream."

Having settled the ice cream issue, Lizzie said, "I like that zip-up. The blue one."

"I know you do. That's why I washed it."

"That makes sense," she said and returned to her room.

........

Saturday morning, Lizzie put on her favorite jeans and then slipped on a gray t-shirt that had a picture of a golden retriever and the phrase, 'Dogs' Best Friend' in custard yellow letters. She was comforted by the fleece lining of her blue zip-up and although it hadn't been laundered in hemp soap, admittedly, it smelled good. She laced up her high-tops and looked out the window down to the curb where there was no sign of Scooter, his mom, and his brother.

She glanced at the fishbowl where Buddy the guppy swam lazily. She went to the desk and shook out a few flakes of fish food. Buddy sped to the surface and eagerly consumed his breakfast.

As she watched him eat, she said, "Maybe you'd be happier if you weren't so lonely." As far as she could tell, fish didn't have facial expressions that conveyed emotions, so maybe it was Buddy's body language that gave her the impression he was depressed. She had a feeling he missed Mr. Gibbs. She was about to google "How do fish express emotions?" when Sonya called, "Lizzie. I think they're here."

Lizzie checked the curb from her window. No big truck but she heard people in the apartment under her feet.

She scrambled down the hallway but before she reached the front door, Sonya blockaded her. "Let's fix that ponytail."

"It's fine."

"Trust me, Lizzie. It's not fine."

Lizzie clenched her eyes and exhaled a sigh of frustration. She felt her face redden.

"This will take two minutes," Sonya said, brushing the tangles from the ponytail.

"Ouch!"

"Sometimes we need to endure a little pain in the service of beauty."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There," said Sonya. "Much better. Do you have your phone?"

Lizzie pulled it from her back pocket to show her aunt.

Sonya smiled. "Go, get 'em, tiger."

"Tiger? Oh, geez. That doesn't even make sense." She opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.

Sonya watched her descend the stairs, encouraged that Lizzie was maturing, becoming an awkward version of a teenage girl.