title: modern observation and marine biology
summary: he's been watching people for a long time. they're the first people to watch him back.
when he was little his mother would bring him to the park. the nice park near the apartments where all the poor kids lived with their aunts and grandparents. the park had a slide and some swings, but his mother wouldn't let him play. she was too scared he'd fall, hurt his head. she kept him close at her side, and they spent the day watching people pass by.
his mother was good at making up stories. at bedtime she'd tell him ones about princesses with hair made of gold, and the valiant knights who fought dragons to save them. the princesses would end up working at falafel stands, their hands wrinkled from washing too many dishes.
at the park his mother made up stories about the people they'd see. the tall lady with the big sunglasses yapping on her cell-phone was actually a witch who cursed people into listening to her, and the old man with the cane lived with a family of trolls under a mountain.
he would never say anything. he'd let her talk and talk until it was time to go home.
one day she was telling him a story about the couple near the big oak tree. she said the woman was a princess who escaped her kingdom to be with the man she loved.
he said, "they aren't in love. the lady is going to break up with him. like on tv."
he had seen something on television the night before. the woman said, "it's over" and it made the man cry. people laughed from somewhere far away.
his mother looked at him. she just stared and stared. there were shouts from near the tree. the man was shouting at the woman, his expression desperate, sad, betrayed. people were whispering. the woman screamed, "you're embarrassing me, richard! stop it!" no one laughed.
his mother took him home, dragging him by the wrist. after that she didn't tell anymore bedtime stories. his parents started yelling at each other like the couple in the park. they yelled about him mostly.
he's not normal, gobi!
he's my son. of course he's normal.
do you see the way he stares at me when i try to talk to him? he doesn't make friends with any of the kids at school. his teacher said we should take him to a doctor.
my son doesn't need to see a doctor.
gobi, please. listen to me.
a door slams. no one laughs. his parents are divorced when he's six. his father teaches him how to make falafel. his mother calls once a week. then once a month. then the calls stop.
he still watches people.
he watches his father cry in the bathroom. he watches his teachers' irritated expressions whenever he says something wrong. he watches as kids move away from him like he's got some sort of disease. he watches their faces, their body language, their words.
his dad is obsessed with him taking over the stand, even when people start coming less and less because they're scared of them. he watches his dad late at night crunching numbers and sighing. crunch crunch crunch. sigh sigh sigh.
greendale is better than high school. he has friends right off the bat. a whole study group. he watches them, and for the first time, they watch him back. like looking through a telescope and seeing all the stars waving hello.
it's three years later. he has friends, roommates. he's been on adventures. he's been Batman, a mob boss, Inspector Spacetime. he's kissed girls, played paintball, built a robot. his life would make a pretty good tv show. that's what he thinks sometimes.
jeff takes them to an aquarium one sunday afternoon. him and britta are squabbling over whether or not aquariums promote the imprisonment of defenseless sea life. shirley brought her kids along. troy keeps asking them where the giant squids are kept. pierce lost his glasses in some comical c-plot none of them are paying attention to. annie is by his side, holding his hand like always.
he likes to watch annie. he watches her at night, clumsily braiding her hair. he watches her vacuum the carpet after troy's spilled cap'n crunch all over the floor. he watches her mumble to herself while washing the dishes, and how her eyes light up when a song she likes comes on the radio.
he catches her watching him sometimes. she'll smile sheepishly, embarrassed at being found out. she has a nice smile, he thinks. it makes him want to do it more often. for her sake.
"look at this one," annie says, guiding him over to one of the tanks. there's a turtle moving slowly through the water, every so often coming right up to the glass and making the kids scream with delight. annie presses her nose up to the glass, staring at the turtle with big blue eyes.
"it's coming right toward me!" annie gasps. "look!"
the kids look at annie looking at the turtle looking at her. they all crowd around her legs, careful not to get too close. they all watch the turtle in amazement, as if they'd never seen one before today.
he stands near the back. observing an observation. it's like inception, but with more sea turtles and annie edison is ellen page.
"i think we should get a turtle for the apartment," annie tells him afterward. they're walking back to the group, holding hands again. he wonders if people think they're a couple.
"where would we put it?" he asks seriously.
annie laughs, ripples on water. "no! like a small one. troy would like it. he's always begging me to get him a hamster."
"maybe…"
the group is near the seal exhibit. troy's leaning over the railing, and pierce almost pushes him in. britta has stopped talking about animal abuse, having been enraptured by the seal's cuteness.
"look it's balancing a ball on it's nose," she says. jeff is texting on his blackberry. britta tugs on his shirt and says, "winger, you're missing out on this fucking seal, man. could you stop texting your hairdresser for one second?"
"hmmm…?"
annie laughs, amused, and says, "hey. i just thought of something."
"what's that?"
"so it's like this." she pauses for a moment to get her thoughts together. "it's like we're the fish, and you're the person watching us. we're the aquarium."
she's quite proud of herself for making that analogy. and he supposes it is true. he watches the study group, people in general. he watches them have lives on the other side of glass. but he's just a casual observer. he can't swim with the rest of them.
annie's proud expressions turns to one of concern. "oh. i'm sorry. did i say something wrong?"
"no, you're right. i'm watching the fish."
annie grips his hand tighter. she's warm, and he doesn't care that she's practically crushing his bones. "yes, but sometimes you're like a scuba diver, right? you come inside the tank, and you feed us and take care of us. you make sure we aren't sad."
she rests her head on his shoulder. he hears someone far away. "aww, look at those two. i wish i had a boyfriend."
"ugh shut up. tons of guys like you."
"yeah but…"
"scuba divers are very important," annie says. "remember when i said you were great? i meant that."
he nods. "yeah, i know."
that night they watch a turtle documentary on tv. he finds himself watching her more than the show. curled up under a blanket, her hair in one of those messy braids.
he thinks he could watch her for the rest of his life.