The Invisible World

Chapter 18: Space Age Love Song

"Brian," I whispered, "what's that in your hand?"

Brian just put a hushing finger over his lips and slipped the eye drops into his pocket.

We approached the door of the eye doctor. "Katie, do you mind opening the door so we can get through?"

I sighed. I guess the seventh wheel is back on duty. I walked ahead of them and held the door open. Jenny tipped Brian's wheelchair back onto its back wheels to get it over the bottom part of the door frame. Then she resumed rolling it normally to her car. She unlocked the car, and I got in the backseat right before getting back to that ritual of gently lowering Brian into the passenger's seat.

As Brian stood up, holding onto her shoulder for balance, she asked, "So how are you feeling?"

"Just a little wobbly," he replied. "Not the same as when my legs weren't working. I just feel dizzy."

"Well, once we get home, you can lie down, and I can put the TV on for you."

Oh, great. Jenny was going to be occupied taking care of Brian and wouldn't be able to drive me back to Jack's. That meant I'd have to be stuck in their house with their mutual pining. That or I could call Jack and ask him to pick me up. I'd just have to pick between the lesser of two evils.

The strangest thing happened right before Brian sat down in the passenger's seat, though. He took a look at Jenny's eyes and then promptly looked down and shielded his eyes.

"What is it?" Jenny asked.

"Nothing," Brian said. "Just the sun going over the sunglasses in my eye."

"Okay." Jenny got in the passenger's seat.

Brian was silent the whole ride home. So was Jenny, but I could see her knitted eyebrows in the rearview mirror. She wanted to ask him what was up, but she didn't know the words to say to him. It was strange that Brian wasn't talking, though. There didn't seem to be a moment where he was running his mouth, whether it be about whatever sports story he was running for the paper or how the album version of "Call Me" by Blondie is so long that it's boring and "the version they play on the radio really gets to the chase" or even about the weather. Now, though, it was just silence. He must have been hiding that he stole the eye drops and was worried how Jenny would react if she found out. That was his greatest flaw: he was averse to punishment. Now that I think about it, had he contacted his parents once since he broke out of his supposed "grounding"?

"No," he shook his head. "I haven't talked to them since they grounded me."

"Brian, what are you talking about?" Jenny asked.

"Wait." Brian looked over his shoulder at me. "Katie, was that not you just talking? I thought you asked me about my parents."

Oh, no. "I was thinking about your parents."

"I see. My big, wide peripheral vision from having both pupils dilated must have let me read your mind without looking right at you." Brian looked forward again, smiling contently.

"Brian, stop smiling," Jenny said.

"What, so I can't be happy?"

"You're just going to invade our brains all over again."

"Invade is a strong word. I call it 'getting to the truth.' Why do people have to be so secretive?" Brian began to sing. "Why don't they do what they say, say what they mean? One thing leads to another."

"Yeah, yeah," Jenny said. "You can start your cover band later."

But Brian continued to sing. At least he wasn't as sullen as he was before. What was he thinking about before, anyway?