Carry the Ocean: The Roosevelt, Book 1 (20 page)

Chapter Twenty

Je
remey

I
hung out in a strange headspace while Emmet was at his parents’ house. I was upset, yes, and I absolutely had an Ativan. But I wasn’t hysterical, which is what I would have predicted. I felt more numb than anything. I think if I’d been alone in our apartment, I would have flipped out for sure, but they kept me in the lounge. Tammy sat with me, and Stuart made me a smiley face out of macaroni glued on a piece of construction paper. “Happy,” he told me as he presented his art project, and then he started playing Pharrell Williams on his portable stereo.

Happy wasn’t an option for me at that particular second, but I did appreciate the gesture.

David hung out in the lounge too. When he asked why I was upset, I couldn’t answer, so Tammy told him Emmet and I’d had a fight.

Funny, I didn’t start crying until she said that.

It wasn’t a loud cry, thank God, only silent tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how many times I wiped them away. I didn’t feel anxious at all, and even my sadness was weirdly muted. I wondered if it was the drugs. For half a second a tiny voice tried to say maybe I wasn’t too anxious because I knew deep down Emmet wouldn’t leave me, not for something so small. The hope drowned quickly in my usual negative thoughts, but I had enough presence of mind left to get that was a victory for me, that something this big had happened and I’d had that kind of faith at all.

David rolled closer, running his chair into the end table a few times as he navigated closer. “Hey.” He touched my shoulder awkwardly with his left hand, half missing it. “What happened?”

I wanted to tell him—I
needed
to tell him. I was pretty sure I was going to have to choose between him and Emmet, and I needed to choose Emmet. But of course, though all the words banged around in my head, I couldn’t get them past my mouth. It was the hospital all over again, except this time Emmet wasn’t there with me. I let out a watery sigh instead.

Tammy rubbed circles on my back. “It’s going to be okay. Marietta texted a minute ago and said they’re coming.”

That didn’t make me feel better. It made me terrified. I shut my eyes and sank deeper into the couch.

Tammy slid her hand up to massage my neck gently. “Shh. Every couple has fights. You two will make it through. I know it.”

“What are they fighting over?” David asked.

Tammy said nothing, but when I glanced at her, I saw she was looking at me, silently asking for permission.

I nodded.
Yes, please, tell him so I don’t have to.

Tammy ruffled my hair while she answered David. “They’re fighting over you, sugar.”

“What? Me? Why?”

She hesitated before answering, and I shut my eyes and leaned into her, abruptly exhausted. I wanted to go to bed, pull the covers over my head and cry. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see Emmet tonight, especially if he was angry with me.

Before Tammy could answer, though, I heard a familiar loud whisper. I lifted my head in a sharp jerk and opened my eyes to see Emmet standing with Marietta at the door.

Too late I realized what would happen when Emmet saw David with me. Then I
did
panic.

Tammy gentled me as Emmet and his mom came over. I felt like a rabbit, though, my heart beating too fast, my body ready to take off at the first sign of trouble. I couldn’t look at him, not even when he stood in front of me. Not until I saw his hands moving—signing.

I’m sorry.

My breath came out in a ragged rush. It wasn’t quite relief, but it was close. I looked up at him, at his beautiful, quiet face, his brow knit, his lips flat.

I’m sorry too,
I signed.

For a second I thought he’d say something, but he frowned with his gaze near David. He signed something more complicated than I could read, so when I looked confused, he pulled out his phone and typed instead. He passed it over.

May I speak to you in private please?
When I looked nervous, he pulled his phone back and added,
I won’t yell. I promise.

Swallowing against my dry throat, I held out my hand for the phone.

Will you leave?

He read the message, then hummed as he typed.

If I’m too upset, I’ll leave until I calm down. I don’t want to be upset in front of you. You wouldn’t like it. So yes, I’ll leave if I’m upset. I’ll come back when I’m calm. The way I did now.

I stared at the message for a long time after I’d read it. I had so many feelings at once, loud even through the Ativan. The hope that had winked before flared back to life, and as Emmet took my hand and led me upstairs, the feeling burned inside me.

He hadn’t been rejecting me. I wasn’t such a disappointment he couldn’t stand me. He didn’t go away because I was too pathetic and worthless to be around. He did it to protect me—from himself.

I wanted to hug him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to make love to him again, touch him everywhere. I wanted to dance with him, hold him, everything all at once. But he was serious as we entered our apartment, and I was too shy, so I didn’t do any of those things.

He sat me on the couch, and he sat in the chair across from me. He rocked as he spoke, and flapped gently, and when he paused, he hummed.

“I’m sorry, Jeremey.
Hmmmmm.
”
Flap, flap, flap.
“I shouldn’t have been angry about you working for David. I shouldn’t tell you who you can work for. That’s not being
hmmmmmmmm
a good boyfriend.”

“No,” I said, aching for him. I could feel how difficult this was for him, and I wanted it to stop. “No, I should have thought it through. I was being selfish. I’ll tell David I can be his friend, but I can’t work for him.”

“You need to be selfish.
Hmmmmm.
” He flapped so hard I thought he might fly. “You should work for him. You’re right. It’s a good job for you.”

His voice was gruff, and I panicked. I pulled at my fingers as my insides tangled into knots. “But I don’t want you to be upset. I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you.
Hmmm.
”

“You sound angry. You’re upset. You can’t stop humming.” I put my hands on my thighs and dug my fingernails in until it hurt. “It’s okay. There are other jobs. I can get a different one. No job is worth losing you.”

His gaze flickered to my face, almost my eyes before darting away. He rocked once, then stopped, as if he’d tripped over something. “It’s not right for me to ask you to quit a job because I don’t like it. That’s…
hmmm
…abusive behavior.”

The way he said it, I knew his mom had told him that. Now the panic was a squirrel climbing to the top of my head, ready to eat off my face. “I don’t care.” I paused, realizing how that sounded. “I mean—it isn’t. It’s fine. I don’t want to work for him anymore.”

“Yes, you do. Don’t lie, Jeremey. You suck at it.”

The tears, never far, spilled over. “Please, Emmet—
please
. I don’t want him. I want you. I love you.”

He stopped rocking. Stopped humming. Holding still as a statue, he stared at my chin. He looked…shocked. It was subtle, but I was getting good at reading subtle.

I signed it.
I love you, Emmet.
“Always,” I added in a whisper.

He let out a heavy breath, then rocked gently. “David’s handsome. Flirty.”

I blinked. What—
really?
“Are—are you
jealous
?”

Still staring at my chin, Emmet nodded.

I couldn’t believe this. “But, Emmet—he’s not gay.”

“You are. You could like him better. And he’s a bully. He could take you away for fun.”

I couldn’t imagine a universe where David would try or I would go. “I don’t care for him that way.”

“You might get to know him and change your mind.”

“Well, unless he turns into you, I’m not interested. He’s too scruffy and loud for me. For a boyfriend.”

Emmet rocked more, but it was almost a sway now, no longer jerky. “He’s sassy.”

He was. “The wrong kind of sass for me.”

Emmet’s gaze moved to my knees as he went still. “He doesn’t have autism. His spine is broken, but his brain is fine.”

“So is yours,” I whispered.

He shut his eyes and put his hand over his heart as he resumed rocking gently. “Say it again.”

I smiled, loving that I knew him well enough to know what he was after. “I love you, Emmet. I’ll love you always. I’ll love you always
best
.”

Eyes still shut, he smiled, so wide and bright it was like sun burst into the room.

I love you too,
he signed.

I crept quietly over to him. Kneeling between his legs, I kissed the hand over his heart.

Emmet and I were better after our conversation, but he didn’t like David any more than he had before. This didn’t surprise me, but David’s reaction did.

“He seriously hates me. Why? What the hell did I do?”

David asked this when he and I were taking a trip to Wheatsfield on our fifth day of working together. I didn’t have a set schedule, as David wasn’t sure what he needed, and I was too worried about letting everyone down. For now, I was officially available when I wasn’t otherwise occupied during the day, when Emmet was in school and during the time he studied. David texted me when he wanted help, and I came when I could. So far that was every time, but he kept saying I could say no if I needed to.

I hadn’t answered David’s question, and I didn’t know how to. I’d tried several times, and David didn’t understand. “He calls you a frat boy.”

David snorted. “Not quite. I was going to pledge, but I drove into a tree first. What would that have to do with anything, anyway? Is this about me being a bully? All I’ve done is tease him.”

I thought about pointing out to David that this is what bullies did, but he didn’t see things that way, and in any event, this conversation made me nervous. “You’ll have to ask him about it.” I started saying that every time he asked, but he didn’t stop asking.

A few times I saw David try to approach Emmet, but if anyone was oil and water, it was these two. Sometimes I sat with Tammy on the other side of the room and watched them interact badly with one another. We could see the train wreck a mile before it happened, just as clearly as we could tell there wasn’t any way around it. Emmet was sure he knew exactly who David was, and as much as David tried, he seriously had no concept of Emmet.

“I think you should study autism,” I told him one day when Emmet was at school and we sat together in David’s room, David venting frustration at how antagonistic Emmet was to him. “His disorder isn’t everything about who he is, but it’s a huge part of him. Learning might help you see him more clearly.”

“Like read a book?” David hated reading.

I remembered “Carly’s Cafe” and pulled it up on YouTube.

David had the same kind of visceral reaction to it that I had—more so, even. The first time he watched it, he didn’t say anything, only fumbled on the iPad’s screen to make the video play again. On the second viewing it was as if something cracked on his face, pain breaking through the clay he’d packed around his emotions. I didn’t let him try to replay it a third time. I simply restarted it for him. I wasn’t surprised when tears ran down his face.

He closed his eyes and sat still for almost half a minute before he spoke. “Okay—shit.” He pulled his forearm up to wipe his face. I got the sense that if he’d had full use of his hands, he’d have pinched his nose. Instead he covered his eyes for a second as his lip quavered. Then he lowered his arm with a heavy sigh. “
That’s
autism? She doesn’t seem anything like Emmet. She’s a hell of a lot more like me. People treating you as if you’re their fucking pet. Weird shit getting to you. Everything being too loud. It never used to be that way for me, but with my spine shut down, everything else is turned way up. The not being able to do what you want or explain it right—I swear I’m speaking English, but nobody hears me when they see the chair.”

I remembered watching the first time and feeling the same way, that Carly was more like me than Emmet. And yet now that I knew Emmet better, had read Carly’s father’s book, watched her other videos, I understood how he and she were similar. I thought it was interesting, though, how we all three saw her experience as ours.

I showed him more videos, and we downloaded the audiobook of
Carly’s Voice
. Over the next few days, whenever he’d advanced a few chapters, he asked me questions. I showed him other books about autism, some websites, and he asked more questions, especially about emotions.

“This stuff keeps saying he has a difficult time expressing emotions, but he doesn’t have any trouble showing me he hates me.”

I wasn’t sure why David cared so much that Emmet didn’t like him.
I
liked David fine—he was bossy a lot, and intense, but I was impressed with how much he refused to let his disability define him or limit his life. We were venturing out deeper and deeper into Ames, taking the bus anywhere it would go. We’d gone all the way out to west Ames and gone bowling, which I had been sure would be a disaster, but David talked me into helping him roll a ball down the lane—always into the gutter, but he did it over and over again, taking pride in the fact that he’d figured out a way to roll the ball with a broom strapped to his wrist. We went to campus sometimes, but not often. It depressed David, the way people looked at him.

It occurred to me he and Emmet had that in common, but I didn’t bring it up.

All through September and into October, I watched the two of them dance around each other. Everyone did. David tried to get Emmet to like him, but he tried too hard, and the wrong way, and Emmet only disliked him more.

“One of these days, the firework they keep throwing at each other is going to go off,” Tammy said.

The first week of October, it did.

Chapter Twenty-One

E
mmet

I
love the season of autumn the best. I like the cooler temperatures, warm but not as humid, and I love the sound of leaves as I walk down the sidewalk from the bus stop to my house. The street where my parents live has a lot of trees, so a lot of leaves, but the sidewalks around The Roosevelt have the best leaves because the trees are so big and old. Most of the trees were oaks, and they dropped their leaves early. There was one tree by the playground, though, that hadn’t turned color yet, and so all the leaves were still on. I watched it every day, wondering if I could catch it turning.

I checked the tree once I’d dropped my backpack off in my apartment. I always went into the apartment first, even if I saw Jeremey outside. I’d wave to him and sign
be right there
if he saw me, but otherwise I went straight in. I did this on October 5, same as always. Except on that day, before I could go to my room, I ran into David.

He was rolling down the first-floor hallway, heading from the laundry room toward the door. He waved when he saw me, though his waves are unusual, since he can’t really use his hands. “Hey, Em. Come on outside. We’re carving pumpkins. Jeremey’s already out there.”

I tried not to be angry when I talked with David, but he made my teeth itch every time. Also he never called me by the right name. “I have to go to my apartment now.”

I headed for the stairs, but he cut me off. “Seriously, you should come. They said they’d let me strap a knife to my wrist and do some of the carving. I might end up taking off part of my arm. Could be exciting.”

I don’t know why David thought I’d want to see him cut himself. I didn’t want to talk to him, and I was anxious. He always pushed me, especially when I said no. It made me angry. Usually someone was around to help me get away, but today there was no one. Everyone must be outside already.

I covered my ears with my hands. That’s not the proper sign for
don’t talk to me right now
, but David is dumb about my signs, so I thought I had to make it louder. I tried to go around him and go to the stairs.

He rolled into my way. His face was angry, and his voice was so loud it cut through my hand barriers. “Hey. Listen, I’m trying to be nice. I’m inviting you to come out and hang with us. I’m trying to be friendly.”

He wasn’t friendly. He was an asshole. I shut my eyes and pressed my hands tighter on my ears. “Go away. You’re a jerk. I don’t like you. I don’t want to hang with you.” I wouldn’t go help carve pumpkins now, though I wanted to. I couldn’t stand to be around David. Not even for Jeremey.

“I’m not being a jerk.
Jesus.
What the fuck is your problem, anyway?”

I shut my eyes tighter and started to hum and rock. He’d think I was the R word, but I didn’t care. I had to shut him out.

Except his voice is so loud I couldn’t block it, which is why I heard him say, “Fine. I’ll go flirt with your boyfriend then. See how you like that, asshole—”

He stopped talking then because I’d unblocked my ears, opened my eyes and punched him in the face.

It hurt my hand, but I didn’t care. I bunched my fist up and pulled it back by my head, ready to hit him a second time. I made my yelling noise. I hadn’t made it in a long time, not since I was fourteen, but I hadn’t forgotten how good it felt, all my anger rushing up my throat and out of my mouth. He swore and flailed his arms, but he couldn’t hit me back. I moved too fast. Also because his arms don’t work.

“
Fucker—
” He fumbled with his chair controls, trying to get out of my way. “Knock it the hell off.”

I chased him, more angry all the time. “You won’t leave me alone. I told you I wanted to go to my room, that I didn’t like you, but you won’t stop. You never stop.” Soon he’d hit his help button on his tray and I’d be in trouble, but all my anger was out now.

“I’m being good for Jeremey. He said he loved me, not you, but you’re an asshole and you’re going to try to take him. I don’t care if you’re in a chair and can’t move. I don’t feel sorry for you. I hate you. You’re just like the jerks at school who make fun of me and call me the R word. You probably call me the R word all the time and laugh at me. You think you can take Jeremey from me.
Hmmmm.
” I got so angry I had to rock a second and pull the anger back. “You can’t have him. I’m being a good boyfriend. You can’t have Jeremey. I won’t let you take him from me,
ever
.”

He was going to say something. He had his mouth open, his clumsy hand held up like it wanted to say
wait
, but I didn’t wait. He’d moved away from the stairs, and I went up them as fast as I could. I locked the door to the apartment, went into my room and locked that door too. I grabbed my foam hammer and pounded, pounded, pounded—but it wasn’t enough.

All I could see in my head was Jeremey holding David’s hand. Jeremey said he loved me best, but now I knew David wanted Jeremey too.

David had lied. He was gay. He wanted Jeremey for himself. Jeremey liked how David talked. How he flirted. It didn’t matter that I was almost ready for anal sex or that David was in a chair. David would find a way to make it not matter.

David wasn’t autistic, and neither was Jeremey. David would find a way to change Jeremey’s mind, and I wouldn’t be able to fight it.

Because I was autistic. Because there was so a normal. And I couldn’t be it, ever.

I threw the hammer at my bookshelf and yelled more. I ripped up my bed, throwing the sheets all over. I banged a pillow on the door until it broke into pieces, all the fluff falling out around the room. My anger and sadness was my ocean, and I couldn’t carry it. Not anymore.

No one could really love me. Not when they could love somebody else instead.

H
ere’s another example of why it’s wrong to say autistic people don’t feel emotions. I felt very emotional about David, but usually I could make modifications so I didn’t have to let my emotions take over. Though I yelled and hit him, I still kept most of my feelings to myself, until I went to my room and could let them out. It’s not nice for people to say I’m unemotional because I’m better than they are at management.

I didn’t feel like I was good at management that day, though. Even after letting myself get extra angry and break some things, all the feelings were still loud inside me. Too loud. I wanted to shut down, to go into my closet and be in the dark and quiet until everything calmed down. But I could hear people in the apartment outside my door. I felt Jeremey’s text pulse against my leg in my pants pocket. They’d know I hit David, that I’d lost my temper. I hadn’t lost my temper like this in front of any of them, and I didn’t know how they would punish me. Sometimes nice people are not nice at all when autistic people get angry.

I didn’t know either how Jeremey would feel when he found out I hit David. I thought about him maybe not loving me anymore, and I wanted to go into my closet. I didn’t, even though I was scared. I sat on the end of my bed and rocked with my eyes shut, waiting to see what bad thing would happen. Would Tammy try to talk to me? Sally? Mom? Would Jeremey talk to me, or was he already so angry with me he was talking to Bob about moving out? Would they kick me out and send me home, since I was the bad one?

How was it fair that I’d tried to get away from David, but I would be the bad one?

It got quiet on the other side of the door. I was wondering if they’d all left when the knock came.

Knock, knock-knock.

It was a strange knock. Not any of my signals, but it was rough and uneven.

“Emmet. It’s David. You don’t need to let me in, but I wanted to talk to you.”

I froze but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to talk to him, or listen. But I didn’t know who else was listening, and I didn’t want any more trouble. I kept quiet and waited to see what would happen next.

What happened was David kept talking. His voice was softer, more sad than usual. He almost sounded like a different person.

“I…I’m gonna assume you’re listening. Probably I’m talking to myself more than anyone else anyway, so…whatever.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, and you’re right. I’m a jerk, and I didn’t listen to you when you said you wanted to go. I was being selfish. I wanted to bring you out for Jeremey. He’d been waiting for you, to show you the pumpkin he’d made. It’s pretty special. You should go see it.”

I kept my eyes shut and rocked gently. I wanted to hum, but I didn’t want him to know I was listening, so I kept quiet.

“Anyway. I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I’m trying with you, to get along, but I keep doing it wrong. I’m sorry. I think I do it because you
don’t
like me. Though it’s more you don’t give a shit that I’m in a chair. Jeremey’s not bad, but do you know you’re the only one in my life right now who sees me before they see my injury? You don’t like what you see, but…well, this sounds pathetic, but that’s my favorite thing. You don’t feel sorry for me. You think I’m a jerk and don’t want anything to do with me. I think part of me has it worked out if I could win you over, if I could sweet-talk you…well, see, then the one person who saw me for me would be on my side. Which is probably dumb. And selfish. But I guess that’s what I am. A dumb, selfish jerk.”

I did hum a little now. I wasn’t sure what to think. Was he lying, saying he wanted me to like him? It felt like a trick. But he didn’t sound like he was joking.

He kept talking. “As for Jeremey—that was a joke, me saying I was going to flirt with him and steal him away. I didn’t mean it, but I should have known better than to tease you that way. You gotta understand in my own head that’s the most obvious joke there is. I could never steal anybody away from anyone. Even if I were gay or he were a girl, I don’t think I could. How would I do it, huh? Forget sex—which is something I don’t know how I’ll ever have again—how exactly am I supposed to put the moves on somebody? Headbutt them? Whack them with my arm? Strap a spoon to my wrist and pet them with it?”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh. More sad. “Dude. Even if I could, he wouldn’t leave you. He loves you. He said you’re jealous of me—fuck, man. I’m jealous of
you
. And not only because you have somebody like Jeremey who cares about you. I’m jealous because you’ve always had your disability. It’s always been part of you, so you don’t have this memory of what you used to be, of what you could have been if you’d driven the speed limit or that deer hadn’t jumped out in front of you. It’s easy for you to make autism part of who you are. You don’t know anything different. But me, every single day I think about what could have been. Should have been. Every day I think about how much life I have in front of me, and yet the nineteen years I was able-bodied hang around my neck like a big yoke, holding me back.”

I didn’t feel as angry at him, but I worried he was tricking me. “You’re still a jerk,” I said, but not as angry. I hummed and rocked.

He laughed, the sad laugh, but it was a little brighter this time. “See, Em? This is why I want to be friends with you. I tell you all that, and you don’t feel sorry for me. You think I’ve been flirting with Jeremey? Fuck that shit. I’m flirting with you. You’re the one I want to win over.”

That sounded good, much better than him wanting Jeremey, but I couldn’t trust him. And I didn’t care for the nickname
Em
. “I don’t want to be your boyfriend. Jeremey is much better than you.”

“How about regular friends? How about we hang out sometimes, and you call me a jerk and hit me when I’m out of line, but we say we’re on the same side?”

I opened my eyes and stared at the back of the door, rocking. “It’s a trick. Guys like you don’t have autistic friends.”

“It’s not a trick. I’m outside your door begging like a dog.” He paused. “And fine. Before my accident, I wouldn’t have asked to be friends. I maybe would have been mean to you, just as you say. Except I’ve had my accident. I’m not that guy anymore. Or I’m that guy with his eyes open. Let’s have a do-over. If not for me, then for Jeremey. I think he’d be less nervous if he didn’t think this was going to happen every day.”

I did worry about Jeremey. “Is he there? Is he upset?”

“He left with the others to wait outside, but I bet he’s in the hall. They didn’t want to let me talk to you. Everyone worried I’d mess it up more than I already had.”

They worried
he
would mess it up? “They aren’t angry I hit you?”

“I didn’t tell them.”

I stopped rocking and stared at the door.

“I didn’t tell them,” he said again. “I have a big red mark on my forehead, but I said I slammed it into the doorway trying to follow you. I don’t think Jeremey believes me. But if he figures it out, I’ll tell him I had it coming, that it’s not your fault. It isn’t. To be honest, I needed it.”

“No one needs hitting. It’s bad.”

“Sometimes we jerks need a bonk in the head to keep us in line. Thanks for having my back.”

I didn’t say anything to that, only kept staring at the door, rocking and humming. He went quiet too, but I didn’t hear him roll away. I wasn’t sure what to do now. I was pretty sure he wasn’t tricking me, but I still felt strange saying I was David’s friend. I decided if we were going to be friends, we should talk a little more. Get to know one another.

“David’s my middle name,” I said at last.

“Oh? Nice. Emmet David Washington. Good ring to it. Mine is Samuel. After my grandpa.”

“Mine is after my mom’s brother. He died when she was in high school. Emmet was her grandpa.”

He didn’t answer right away, but it was a good pause. “Jeremey showed me websites and books about autism. I started following that Carly girl on Twitter. I keep trying to think of a tweet to say to her, but I can’t think of anything.”

“She doesn’t reply to anyone. Not on Twitter or Facebook.”

“Oh. Huh. Bummer.”

I hummed and rocked while I thought about what I wanted to say next. I replayed the conversation in my head, pausing at the part where he talked about sex. “You should look on the Internet about how to have sex as a quadriplegic. The Internet has everything.”