When I woke up the next day, there she was. Spirit, I mean, sitting on the chair. I gave a little yelp. "So – sorry," I apologized, "you just surprised me."
She wrote: It's okay. Thanks for letting me talk to you.
Something sparked my curiosity. "By the way, can't you learn sign language?" Her answer was a series of rapid gestures and waves with her gray-furred hands. "What was that?" I asked.
That meant, "I did learn sign language. Jim ordered a book on American Sign Language, both the letter-by-letter kind and the word-by-word kind, from Amazon.com, and taught it to himself for my birthday present, then gave me the book for Christmas. But otherwise nobody else around here understands it. This notepad works better." As she wrote, I noticed that her palms and the fronts of her fingers had no fur, and were the same yellow-tan shade as mine.
"Oh, right. Who's Jim? And how'd you learn to read lips, then?"
By watching TV with no captions. After a while I just figured it out, though Jim offered to get closed captioning, I prefer the practice. Even hearing people can learn how. Most people call Jim "Techie (pronounced Tekky)" He's my other best friend, and Spy's boyfriend.
For some reason it never occurred to me that mutant teens dated people too, just like we did. Nor had I thought about them giving birthday presents to each other, having classes and dances, and so many other normal things. I said, "I was just wondering, that's all." She didn't answer. I hate awkward pauses, even with someone who disturbs me. "Were you the one who left this table here?" I inquired.
Do you think it was me?
"Well, I can't think of anyone else who would want to..." I almost said, "suck up", but changed my mind. "Do that for me..." I finished lamely. Then I had the oddest feeling, as if I was talking to someone in jail, in those little booths with the glass between the two people. She seemed friendly, and I did feel a desire to talk to her, but I was wary of her and on my guard. That, along with her deafness, created a barrier between us. I decided to be honest. "I haven't given you much reason to be nice to me. I never thought you'd try, and I find it really surprising that seeing me is so important to you. Why?"
She sighed silently and then she wrote me another message. You don't want to believe I'm your sister, because you can't accept me as I am. But you did before. Before we were separated. I know you don't remember, but your morals are still the same. I think you're the irrational one. Why do my genes bother you so much? I know that most people hate mutants, but you were never one to follow the crowd. This deep-seated animosity doesn't come from just that.
I grabbed the paper and her pencil. I happen to be left – handed. You know what, little girl? I wrote, stored-up bitterness spilling out. You're right. When I was your age, I had no special fear or dislike towards mutants. I hoped not to have to deal with one, ever, but I didn't have a particular problem. It just wasn't an issue with me. I was busy with my own life, and I was just starting to get interested in this one girl. Her name was Crystal Norman. We started going out while both of us were fifteen. I'd dated before, but I was more serious about her. We had been friends before then, so we already knew each other well. Usually high school kids don't keep a long relationship, right? Ours was long: I had just turned seventeen when we went on our final date, almost six months ago.
A lump started to rise in my throat, which made me angrier. I quit writing, and as soon as she'd read it, I continued in an intense whisper, "I took her out to dinner, and we went into a corner table where nobody could see us, for privacy. She told me that she had gotten a scholarship to a really good college that she wanted, and had received the news only just before. She was so happy. I congratulated her with a kiss, and told her that I had been accepted to the same place. As she hugged me, something really weird happened. I couldn't move, or speak, or see or hear. I felt an enormous cold that started on my mouth and shoulders, which moved all over me, like being encased in frozen steel. Then I couldn't breathe. What seemed like ours later, I broke free. She was sitting in front of me, her eyes wide. There were little flakes of rock all over the table and the floor. I reacted...how anyone would if they had been turned to stone. I said some things I didn't really mean, but she had scared me half to death! Then she ran away. She left me. Left me there.
"I called the next day, once I'd cooled off, to apologize for yelling at her. Her parents said she hadn't come home that night, and asked me if I knew anything about it. They never found her. Never ever heard from her again. The local news covered it for a while. A lot of people asked me what happened, but I wouldn't tell. And I hate her for doing that to me. She never said goodbye...and I hate her. We would've been happy, if she hadn't been a mutant. I couldn't stand living there any more, so I left and ended up here. And I'm not about to let you change me! I hate you all, because if it wasn't for mutants, I would know where she was..."
My tone was fierce, but my eyes started to swim. I turned to the window to keep Spirit from seeing tears. I felt ashamed. She touched my shoulder and I turned to face her, then said, "Why did I tell you? I hate you too, you know. Because you, all you people, remind me of her."
So a mutant broke your heart, and now you hate all mutants because of that. I could detect no emotion behind her black lenses. Her statement made me furious, because, put that way, my feelings seemed stupid.
But they aren't, I told myself, then I told her, "I'm telling you so that you won't waste any more time trying to 'convert' me. I asked the doctor if Crystal came here, but she isn't here. I'll bet she joined what you call the Brotherhood, then. In any case, I'm NOT GOING TO CHANGE. You get that? That was the ONLY reason I said you could come talk to me."
She spent a minute considering what to write, then she wrote it and held it up to me. Actually, that isn't quite true. You're sitting on a fence. Your pain and life-long prejudices remain, but now that you've seen mutants up close, you have a hard time maintaining your hatred. No, I can't read minds, but I can talk to someone who knows you really well. Do you know how bad our parents feel about this alienation?
"I refuse to consider you a sister."
Why? It's biologically possible, you know. The mutation gene is always generally recessive, but always carried by the male parent. Dad was a mutant, but it was statistically unlikely that either of us would turn out that way.
I didn't want to believe it. My ideas were all bashing their heads against brick walls. Spirit waited patiently, but when I continued to be silent, she wrote, Do you want me to tell you where Crystal is?
"Y-you know?" I blurted out.
I'm really sorry to tell you this, but she's dead. She committed suicide that night. That's what she says, anyway. Her presence is very strong around you. All the dead have a "focus point", so to speak, with a person or place that is his or her strongest link to life. That's where I hear them best. I wanted you to be ready to talk about it before I told you.
"No..." A tear trickled down my face, which I wiped away. "Could you please leave me alone for a while?" I whispered. "Was it my fault?"
I'm really sorry.
"Please leave me alone for a while."
She nodded. May I come back later?
I wanted to say no. Selfishly, I wanted to punish the bringer of the bad news. But I had been unfair to one girl already; it would be a crime to treat this one like dirt as well. For that was what I realized I had done: I had been very unkind to Crystal. This epiphany shocked me, and I needed time to think. Yes, and I needed time to cry for the first time in years.
"You-you can come back. Just leave me alone for now."
Spirit cautiously grasped my left hand, squeezed it, and rose from the chair. Another surprise for in the past few days: I didn't shudder. As she walked out, she left a "Get Well" card next to the still sleeping Iceman. Then I noticed that someone had placed a box of tissues near my side the previous night, which I was very grateful for.
She wrote: It's okay. Thanks for letting me talk to you.
Something sparked my curiosity. "By the way, can't you learn sign language?" Her answer was a series of rapid gestures and waves with her gray-furred hands. "What was that?" I asked.
That meant, "I did learn sign language. Jim ordered a book on American Sign Language, both the letter-by-letter kind and the word-by-word kind, from Amazon.com, and taught it to himself for my birthday present, then gave me the book for Christmas. But otherwise nobody else around here understands it. This notepad works better." As she wrote, I noticed that her palms and the fronts of her fingers had no fur, and were the same yellow-tan shade as mine.
"Oh, right. Who's Jim? And how'd you learn to read lips, then?"
By watching TV with no captions. After a while I just figured it out, though Jim offered to get closed captioning, I prefer the practice. Even hearing people can learn how. Most people call Jim "Techie (pronounced Tekky)" He's my other best friend, and Spy's boyfriend.
For some reason it never occurred to me that mutant teens dated people too, just like we did. Nor had I thought about them giving birthday presents to each other, having classes and dances, and so many other normal things. I said, "I was just wondering, that's all." She didn't answer. I hate awkward pauses, even with someone who disturbs me. "Were you the one who left this table here?" I inquired.
Do you think it was me?
"Well, I can't think of anyone else who would want to..." I almost said, "suck up", but changed my mind. "Do that for me..." I finished lamely. Then I had the oddest feeling, as if I was talking to someone in jail, in those little booths with the glass between the two people. She seemed friendly, and I did feel a desire to talk to her, but I was wary of her and on my guard. That, along with her deafness, created a barrier between us. I decided to be honest. "I haven't given you much reason to be nice to me. I never thought you'd try, and I find it really surprising that seeing me is so important to you. Why?"
She sighed silently and then she wrote me another message. You don't want to believe I'm your sister, because you can't accept me as I am. But you did before. Before we were separated. I know you don't remember, but your morals are still the same. I think you're the irrational one. Why do my genes bother you so much? I know that most people hate mutants, but you were never one to follow the crowd. This deep-seated animosity doesn't come from just that.
I grabbed the paper and her pencil. I happen to be left – handed. You know what, little girl? I wrote, stored-up bitterness spilling out. You're right. When I was your age, I had no special fear or dislike towards mutants. I hoped not to have to deal with one, ever, but I didn't have a particular problem. It just wasn't an issue with me. I was busy with my own life, and I was just starting to get interested in this one girl. Her name was Crystal Norman. We started going out while both of us were fifteen. I'd dated before, but I was more serious about her. We had been friends before then, so we already knew each other well. Usually high school kids don't keep a long relationship, right? Ours was long: I had just turned seventeen when we went on our final date, almost six months ago.
A lump started to rise in my throat, which made me angrier. I quit writing, and as soon as she'd read it, I continued in an intense whisper, "I took her out to dinner, and we went into a corner table where nobody could see us, for privacy. She told me that she had gotten a scholarship to a really good college that she wanted, and had received the news only just before. She was so happy. I congratulated her with a kiss, and told her that I had been accepted to the same place. As she hugged me, something really weird happened. I couldn't move, or speak, or see or hear. I felt an enormous cold that started on my mouth and shoulders, which moved all over me, like being encased in frozen steel. Then I couldn't breathe. What seemed like ours later, I broke free. She was sitting in front of me, her eyes wide. There were little flakes of rock all over the table and the floor. I reacted...how anyone would if they had been turned to stone. I said some things I didn't really mean, but she had scared me half to death! Then she ran away. She left me. Left me there.
"I called the next day, once I'd cooled off, to apologize for yelling at her. Her parents said she hadn't come home that night, and asked me if I knew anything about it. They never found her. Never ever heard from her again. The local news covered it for a while. A lot of people asked me what happened, but I wouldn't tell. And I hate her for doing that to me. She never said goodbye...and I hate her. We would've been happy, if she hadn't been a mutant. I couldn't stand living there any more, so I left and ended up here. And I'm not about to let you change me! I hate you all, because if it wasn't for mutants, I would know where she was..."
My tone was fierce, but my eyes started to swim. I turned to the window to keep Spirit from seeing tears. I felt ashamed. She touched my shoulder and I turned to face her, then said, "Why did I tell you? I hate you too, you know. Because you, all you people, remind me of her."
So a mutant broke your heart, and now you hate all mutants because of that. I could detect no emotion behind her black lenses. Her statement made me furious, because, put that way, my feelings seemed stupid.
But they aren't, I told myself, then I told her, "I'm telling you so that you won't waste any more time trying to 'convert' me. I asked the doctor if Crystal came here, but she isn't here. I'll bet she joined what you call the Brotherhood, then. In any case, I'm NOT GOING TO CHANGE. You get that? That was the ONLY reason I said you could come talk to me."
She spent a minute considering what to write, then she wrote it and held it up to me. Actually, that isn't quite true. You're sitting on a fence. Your pain and life-long prejudices remain, but now that you've seen mutants up close, you have a hard time maintaining your hatred. No, I can't read minds, but I can talk to someone who knows you really well. Do you know how bad our parents feel about this alienation?
"I refuse to consider you a sister."
Why? It's biologically possible, you know. The mutation gene is always generally recessive, but always carried by the male parent. Dad was a mutant, but it was statistically unlikely that either of us would turn out that way.
I didn't want to believe it. My ideas were all bashing their heads against brick walls. Spirit waited patiently, but when I continued to be silent, she wrote, Do you want me to tell you where Crystal is?
"Y-you know?" I blurted out.
I'm really sorry to tell you this, but she's dead. She committed suicide that night. That's what she says, anyway. Her presence is very strong around you. All the dead have a "focus point", so to speak, with a person or place that is his or her strongest link to life. That's where I hear them best. I wanted you to be ready to talk about it before I told you.
"No..." A tear trickled down my face, which I wiped away. "Could you please leave me alone for a while?" I whispered. "Was it my fault?"
I'm really sorry.
"Please leave me alone for a while."
She nodded. May I come back later?
I wanted to say no. Selfishly, I wanted to punish the bringer of the bad news. But I had been unfair to one girl already; it would be a crime to treat this one like dirt as well. For that was what I realized I had done: I had been very unkind to Crystal. This epiphany shocked me, and I needed time to think. Yes, and I needed time to cry for the first time in years.
"You-you can come back. Just leave me alone for now."
Spirit cautiously grasped my left hand, squeezed it, and rose from the chair. Another surprise for in the past few days: I didn't shudder. As she walked out, she left a "Get Well" card next to the still sleeping Iceman. Then I noticed that someone had placed a box of tissues near my side the previous night, which I was very grateful for.