Carry the Ocean

by Heidi Cullinan

  I had to get away. I had to get away right now.

  “What do you want to do, Emmet?” Sally asked.

  I wanted to make David leave, but that wasn’t going to happen. So I’d have to leave.

  I went over to my parents’ house by myself. It was only a block and a half—I could see my old bedroom window from my living room at The Roosevelt. Sally tried to come along, then call my mother, but I got angry. “I’m an adult. I can visit my mother by myself.”

  Sally made me call when Mom was with me, though, and she asked to talk to her. That made me angrier. By the time I handed over the phone, I went upstairs to my old room. The space wasn’t empty or anything, but it didn’t feel like my room anymore. I didn’t even have my foam hammer to beat on the bed.

  Everything felt wrong. I felt wrong.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Jeremey working for David. I hurt all through my insides as I thought about David smiling and laughing at Jeremey, being able to make all the right jokes, flirt without notes and special fonts. The more I thought about it, the more I hurt and the more panicked I felt. My feelings got louder and louder, angry, sharp colors jangling in my head. My brain started playing bad pictures of David walking across campus, laughing and teasing with Jeremey, putting his arm around him, touching him the way he wanted. David getting out of his chair and flirting with Jeremey with his whole body.

  Taking him away from me.

  The world went tight and dark and terrible, and even in my old room, I wasn’t safe. I went to the corner of my closet—my mostly empty closet. All my things were over at The Roosevelt. I shut the door, curled up in a ball, and I cried. I felt as awful and scared and confused as I had when I was ten and everyone made fun of me at school. I was so sure I would go back to The Roosevelt and David would have stolen Jeremey, that they’d be boyfriends now.

  I didn’t want to kill myself, but a dark empty space closed around me, and if I could have stayed in there and died, I would have. I didn’t die, though. I really am Super Emmet, and like the comic book Superman, I have a powerful secret weapon.

  My mom.

  I heard her knock on the door to my bedroom, the knock that meant she was respecting me but coming in if I didn’t respond. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. When she came in, she called out my name, then got quiet as she came up to my closet door. I saw her shadow underneath. For a few minutes we sat together, silent.

  Then, quietly, she began to sing.

  “Sleep my child and peace attend thee, all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night.”

  I shut my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. Some tears still fell, but this was our song, the one she’d sung to me since I was little. She said when I was a baby, sometimes her singing this song was the only way I could be calm. It worked okay if she played a recording, but her voice was the best. It was still as magical to me now as it had ever been, and as she sang, my anger and bad feelings went away.

  When she got to the last verse, I sang with her. My voice isn’t good, but Mom doesn’t care.

  We were quiet after we finished singing, but the quiet was easier now. I still felt sad when I thought about David and Jeremey, but I didn’t feel alone anymore. I remembered that no matter what happened, I would always have my mom. Even if I couldn’t be independent, I would have her. I still wanted to live at The Roosevelt and get a job, but singing with her reminded me I could still be okay.

  “Jujube, can I open the door? I need to hug you.”

  I didn’t want to hug her, but she’d probably used up a lot of her superpower to get here and sing with me. So I opened the door and let her in.

  She hugged me tight, rocking me from side to side. She didn’t ask me what was wrong.

  When she had enough hugs, we went downstairs together. She made me banana bread with no nuts, and she bought me grape Zevia from Wheatsfield. We sat out back and had a snack.

  “I got a text from Sally,” she said when we were cleaning up, washing dishes together at the sink. I was washing, and Mom was drying and putting away. “Jeremey is still upset. Do you want some help talking to him? Or do you think you need a night apart?”

  “I can’t stay here. Jeremey will stop wanting to be my boyfriend.”

  “Why do you think that might happen? Can you explain to me what’s going on?”

  I touched a bubble of soap in the dishwater, felt it pop under my fingertip. “He has a new job, helping David.”

  “And why aren’t you excited about that?”

  I still couldn’t say the words, but after the singing and the banana bread and Zevia, I was pretty sure I could sign them. I’m afraid Jeremey would rather have David as a boyfriend.

  A lot of people would have said “oh, honey” and told me I was silly. Sally would have. Not my mom. She raised her eyebrow and signed back, Sweetheart, he’s not competition for a superhero like you. No way he can take Jeremey away.

  Yes, but Jeremey will work with him all the time. And he’s a smooth-talker. Also he’s very handsome. Even signing that made my chest tight again.

  Mom made a huff sound and gave up signing. “You’re pretty smooth yourself, buster. If you think David’s a threat, you keep being your awesome self and there’s no contest. I’ll tell you one thing, though. Upsetting Jeremey and running away instead of talking to him isn’t going to help at all.”

  She was right. It had been smart to go away and calm down, but I had to get in there and fight and be a good boyfriend, not a jealous mess.

  I picked up the dishcloth and squeezed out the water. “I’m going to research more sex. That will distract him from David.”

  Mom kissed my hair and swatted my butt with a towel.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jeremey

  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, b
ut 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.