COSMOS | Complete

CHAPTER 31: ASHER

Ever since I was little, my mom and dad made sure to let me know about my disorder. From a young age, they read me newspaper articles about others with prosopagnosia and had the same hairstyle until I was in middle school. They didn't want it to affect my outlook on myself, and to some extent, it didn't. Though friends were few, I didn't notice their disappearance. I told them about my face blindness, but no one understood it besides my parents. Other moms didn't want the hassle and had underlying suspicions that it's contagious, so visits from other kids became less and less.

My whole life, everyone around me knew I was different, and thought I was untouchable. I gave up trying to memorize names by the style of hair or sound of voice – everything around me was changing. Voices dropped, girls chopped their long locks off. It was hectic, and I was tired. I gave up.

I met Chloe on the first day of seventh grade. She was new to the town, and new to the customs. On the first day, she walked in in a hot-pink jumpsuit with a flip phone. Her voice was high pitched and her lips were painted bright red, and she smiled a lot. She told us she came from Manhattan, New York, and reminisced about her neon-pink room back in her home state – quote: "Even my toilet's pink."

Naturally, people were wary of her and her habits – which made two of us. I guess we bonded over the mutual fact that no one understood us, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

I tell this to Aaron on our drive back. I don't know why – for some reason, I have the urge to spread my life out to dry, for Aaron to see. I don't question if he'll understand – I trust him, and my trust isn't easily earned. He did save my life on several occasions, and gives fantastic foot massages. What more is there?

He stays quiet until we get back to my house, listening. I tell him that it's weird that I can recognize him in a heartbeat, when I must read a nametag to see if my dad really is my dad. I tell him I hated him for so long, and it's weird that now he's become one of the closest people in my life. I tell him thank you, and I tell him I hope he doesn't revert to Aaron 1.0 anytime soon – and if he does so, and sleeps with Becca Jarvis, I won't hear the end of it.

"Got it," he says. "If in the event I become the same douche I was before, I'll make sure Becca doesn't get in my pants." He smiles. Night has fallen, and once again, I'm squinting in the moonlight, trying to piece together the shadows and illuminated parts of his face, so it makes an uneven, badly woven Aaron Blakely quilt. I close my eyes and picture his face, and it's there – clear and existing, the only little power I have over my disorder.

"That's my boy." I hesitate, but I reach up and pat his head anyway. His hair is soft and breathable, unlike the gelled thing he had before.

I move to retract my hand, but he leans into my touch. "There's a car in your driveway," he murmurs.

"That would be Heidi's."

His eyes light up. "The lady we met when I went over to your house for the project?"

I roll my eyes, setting my hand back in my lap again. "Precisely."

"Can I meet her?"

Aaron's request is so out-of-the-blue that I'm momentarily thrown back. Instantly, suspicions arise that maybe Old Aaron is making a comeback, but if anything, this would be a good test. I say, "Sure. Come on in."

The house smells of barbecue and seasoning when we step inside. Heidi's back in the kitchen, with cookies set on the counter.

"Hey there," I say cheerfully, leading Aaron into the kitchen. Heidi has her back to us, and she's slicing a gigantic ham. Per usual, she has a plate of bratwurst set out for my father, who usually eats when the two of us are sound asleep.

Heidi turns, eyes lighting up. "Asher!" Immediately, she sets her knife aside and wraps me in a hug. "I haven't seen you all day. I'm sorry."

"No worries." I peck her on the cheek, pulling back. She faintly smells of perfume. "In fact, I brought a friend."

Aaron steps forward, smiling and sticking out a hand. "Aaron Blakely. I believe we've met."

"We have." Heidi stares at him skeptically, shaking his hand. "A lot has changed since then?" she hints. Her tone is kind, but there's an underlying edge, one that I can only detect.

"Tons." Aaron sticks his hand into his pocket, easy. He wants to be relaxed, but he wants to be impressive. It seems he's found a good medium between the two. "I want to apologize for my last visit with you. It was really immature and disrespectful, and I've learned a lot since then."

"Happy to hear it," Heidi says, satisfied. "I've got ham and cookies. Care to have a bite?"

"Absolutely." Aaron flashes me a triumphant smile, following her into the kitchen. He's earned Heidi's respect, and hopefully, it lasts.

"These cookies are amazing," he says appreciatively. Aaron downs one in two bites, but doesn't reach for another. "My mom would kill for these."

Heidi has returned to her ham, her back to us. She says, "Lane, right?"

Aaron tenses. "Yes. Do you know her?"

"Seen her on TV a few times. She's lovely."

Aaron visibly relaxes. "You two should meet up," he recommends. "She's got a lot to learn from you."

Heidi laughs aloud, pausing momentarily. "I would love that."

The rest of the night is spent with Aaron's playful banter. He seems to truly relax and let his guard down, and it almost feels as if he has a home here. Talk is easy and fluid, which doesn't come easy to either of us with other people. Aaron doesn't usually spend time talking about nothing and everything, and to see him let loose - it's incredibly refreshing.

In that kitchen, at midnight, we connect. He doesn't even have to work his usual charm around Heidi – he won her over within minutes. Before he leaves, she gives him his own batch of cookies to take home. "Don't forget to share with your mother," she chides. Aaron grins, shaking her hand again. "I'll try, if there's any left."

We walk him to the door and bid him good-bye and good-night. "Thank you," he responds. His eyes are shining. In those two words, it feels as if he's packed a speech into them.

I watch him drive away, thinking about how many cookies are left in that bag. I place my bets on two.

"That's a much different boy than the first time I saw him," Heidi says, closing the door. She smiles, clucking her tongue. "And you thought he wasn't capable of change."