The Intrusion

Sixteen

[Andy]

We're sitting in some restaurant by the water now. I'm on the inside of the booth next to Alice. Jordan sits across from us, playing on the table with the condensation seeping out of her water glass.

Rain gushes down the window outside like tears. Not sad tears. It reminds me of the tears you cry when someone pokes you in the eye with a stick—watery, uncontrolled tears that come from one red and swollen eye.

I don't know where we are. I zoned out on the walk over here and followed Alice and Jordan. But, as I look around, I realize it's the same spot Jordan and I ate at last night.

I don't feel like I am going to puke anymore and my head has stopped pounding, so at least there's that.

Alice talked to Jordan while we were at the aquarium—I watched them from the other room. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I can guess.

Alice was telling Jordan about how I'm different. She was telling her what she tells everyone—that I'm not capable of socializing. That there is something in my brain that doesn't work the same way everyone else's does. That there is something wrong with me.

She isn't incorrect.

Well, not entirely.

I'd agree that there is something in the way my head works that is different than the way everyone else's brain works (although I can't be 100% sure, seeing as I've never been in anyone else's head before), but I don't think it's really something wrong with me.

It's just something that is.

I've never been good at socializing. That's true. There is a disconnect between me and everyone else. Thoughts make sense in my head, but then I can't translate them out to other people as easily as I'd like to. Inside my head, things make sense. But then when I go to talk to someone, they get jumbled around.

Imagine playing a video game. You look at the screen and think—I need the character to go left and then up and look to the right. You go to make the character move and look around, but somehow the controls have been switched. When you push the joystick up, the character looks down. When you try to direct him to go right, he goes left. The up-down and the left-right have been switched somewhere between your head and the screen.

It's disorienting.

It's frustrating.

But it isn't impossible.

You can still make the character move and look where you want him too look, but you have to consciously make a plan in your head and think to yourself what you want him to do and how you are going to make him do it before you move.

It's not natural. It slows you down. Every move you make needs to be premeditated. You start to get used to it after a while and it does get easier. But it's never intuitive.

That's kind of the way my brain works.

Kind of.

It has the tendency to switch things.

It makes it difficult to talk to people, but it's not wrong.

I do socialize, but I do it at my own speed. I don't talk to people or spend time with people as much as Alice thinks I should, but I'm okay with that. I'm comfortable.

And sometimes I push myself out of my comfort level, like anyone else does on occasion, which is okay, too. It's good to do that, but I don't need to all the time. I don't need to be constantly talking to someone. Sometimes, I'm happy with being by myself. I'm happy with watching. In fact, I'm usually, happy with watching.

I'm content with who I am. I like who I am. I like my job, I like where I live. In fact, I'd go as far as to say I'm happy with who I am, and I think that's a lot more than most people in this world can say about themselves.

I just wish I could make my sister happy too. I know it worries her that I don't have friends. I know she thinks I'm unhappy, because if she were in my situation, she would be unhappy.

But I'm not unhappy...

We finish eating lunch, and Alice pays for the bill with her credit card.

I haven't said a single word the entire time we've been here.

"Well, I think Andy and I had better get going." Alice looks at her phone as she gets up from the table. "It was nice to meet you, Jordan," she says sharply, making eye contact with her.

"It was nice to meet you too, Alice," Jordan replies. I can almost see the script in her hands telling her how to respond in this situation.

Jordan looks away from Alice and smiles at me. "Andy, do you want to go for coffee with me tomorrow morning?" she asks. "I'd like to see you again."

"Andy and I have plans tomorrow morning," Alice informs her before I can respond.

"That's fine," Jordan says to my sister, as though she were expecting this response. She looks back over at me. "How about Sunday evening? We could grab dinner if you wanted instead. I'd give you my phone number, but I don't have cell service, so how about I just meet you in the lobby of your apartment building at 6?"

"Alright," I respond before Alice has a chance to say anything, although I don't see why she would have any objections, considering this is exactly the type of thing she's always wanting me to do. "I'd like that."

"Cool." Jordan smiles.

And then suddenly a weight seems to be lifted, and I realize the roaring storm outside has gone quiet. The rain has broken into a drizzle. As though in a trance, controlled by the weather, the three of us get up from the table without a word and leave the restaurant. We go out the door and walk along the sidewalk in silence together up from the waterfront until we reach a corner where we nod and go our separate ways—Jordan back to her apartment and Alice and I back to mine.