At least for now, I'll be putting Worlds Apart on hiatus while I work on this story. There's a strong chance I'll get back to it eventually, but the plot bunny turned into a plot rabbit.
For a while, I've wanted to write a story inspired by autism spectrum disorder, a condition I have had my entire life, or at least since I was diagnosed at age 2. After giving myself a road map, I decided the time was right to begin this story. Here's the first chapter, and I'd love to hear what you all have to think.
BRYANT FOREST, 18
The ride to the Epona District had gone smoothly enough. I'd called my Uber well in advance so that I could avoid taking the subway. The ride cost extra money, but it was well worth it.
Why did I avoid the subway, you might ask?
Well, the answer was quite simple: There were so many people on it that I'd find it overwhelming. It was better, in my view, to shell out more dough on a driver who would take me through the grittier parts of Moraga City, without me needing to come into contact with the masses.
Eventually, my driver dropped me off on the edge of the Epona District. Despite the time of day (early evening), it was still plenty hot and humid outside, but that just goes with the territory when you live in a tropical region.
"Thanks" I told the driver, waving goodbye. He did not address me any further; rather, upon me stepping out of his vehicle, he simply drove away. I didn't blame him for this; I would have done the same thing, most likely.
During my short walk to the restaurant, I thought about how nice it would be to paint one of the windows here. Although Epona was, for the most part, one of the more upscale parts of the city, it was lacking in personality. I could have thought of so many patterns, coloring the doors shades of purple, orange, or green.
By the time I reached the entrance to the Golden Kitchen, I was soaked in sweat. The number one thing I wanted was a cold drink, the primary reason I'd come here being a not-too-distant second.
I found myself looking at my watch. I had a few minutes left until 6 PM, the time when I was supposed to meet her here. Of course, she still had time to arrive; I had been far more focused on getting here early so as not to miss our reservation. There were many executive functioning skills I lacked, but punctuality wasn't one of them.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Although my watch didn't make any actual noise, the seconds began to tick by in my head. It was hard to believe - how could she be late to such an important evening?
Relax, Bryant. She's not going to forget. Besides, it's only 5:58, so don't worry too much. That was the logical side of my brain, telling me to chill out.
Of course, people don't always think logically, and neither do Pokémon. But as I stood there, watching the cars drive by, I couldn't help but wonder what must have gone wrong.
Maybe her train was delayed. Maybe she got stuck in traffic, if she's driving here. Maybe one of her Pokémon, if she has any, is sick and she had to take them to the Pokémon Center.
Or maybe she forgot completely!
Six o'clock came and went. A few minutes after the bells from the local Church of Arceus rang six times to mark the hour, a Braixen waitress came to the entrance.
"Forest?" she asked, causing my heart to skip a beat. "Your reservation is ready."
I shook my head. "I can't sit down yet. I'm waiting for my date to get here."
"Okay then" the waitress replied. "I'll leave the table open."
It was another couple of minutes before she arrived. Breathing heavily, a tall, somewhat skinny girl around my age jogged over to me.
I noticed her light brown skin, as well as the way her hair flowed down behind her neck. It matched her profile picture perfectly.
"Sorry about that, Bryant," she told me.
I felt frustration rise within me; it had been present before, but then, it had been rather nebulous. I didn't know who to blame at the time.
But now, the culprit was standing right in front of me. She'd been late for our reservation, for our special night at the Golden Kitchen, and she could have ruined everything.
I frowned, trying to control my emotions. "Hannah, you do realize that you could have arrived sooner? Our reservation was for 6 PM."
Hannah's eyes widened. "I said I was sorry, didn't I? The trains aren't running as frequently, they say a storm might be coming soon."
Narrowing my eyes, I asked, "Why would weather that's going to happen in the future impact train schedules?"
"I don't know," Hannah said. "But please, Bryant, forgive me. The night's going to be a lot more unpleasant if you don't."
Is that a threat?, I wondered as we were led to our table. I didn't voice this thought out loud, of course; that would not have helped my case.
Once we were seated, the waitress poured us each a glass of ice water before heading over to fulfill her duties at another table. Hannah and I were left staring at each other, not knowing how to proceed.
"Well, this is the most awkward first date ever, huh?" I blurted out eventually.
Hannah laughed, but it wasn't a lighthearted laugh. "Don't say that, Bryant, or you might make it so."
"Fair enough" I replied, picking up my glass of water and chugging it down. The humidity had really gotten to me; my mouth felt very dry. After what Hannah had said, it didn't seem far-fetched that a storm could be on the horizon.
There wasn't much talking for the next few minutes. Hannah did recoil a bit when she saw me slurp down another glass of water quite quickly.
"Would you mind being a bit quieter?" she asked me. "There are other people at the restaurant."
"My bad; I'm just so thirsty" I told her. I noticed that Hannah was almost done with her glass of water, but she hadn't been slurping as loudly as I'd been. I felt my face flush as I realized just how much of a faux pas I had committed.
Eventually the waitress came back with a basket of bread, and we each ordered our main courses. Hannah gave me a dirty look after I announced my order too loudly; at least, I think that's what she found objectionable.
Once the Braixen had gone off to tell the cooks what to make for us, Hannah asked me, "So what do you do? Are you a trainer or anything like that?"
"I've only got one Pokémon" I replied. "But she doesn't battle."
Hannah frowned. "You own a Pokémon, but you don't use her to battle? Have you forgotten what the main purpose of owning a Pokémon is?"
I sighed; this conversation was heading into some uncharted, dangerous waters. I didn't want to admit the real reason that I had a Pokémon; she might use it as an excuse to break up with me.
But then, if she's going to break up with me over that, is she really a good potential girlfriend to begin with?
I shook my head. Bad brain. I couldn't think that way, not if I wanted tonight to be successful.
"Why did you shake your head right there?" Hannah said.
I frowned. "Well, doesn't shaking one's head mean that they're saying no? And that's what I'm saying."
"So you do know that Pokémon are for battling. Okay then, just checking. So are you a student, or what?"
"College in September," I replied. "I'll be going to Moraga University. I'm not looking forward to it."
"Why wouldn't you look forward to it? Isn't that supposed to be an excellent school?"
I shrugged. "Alola isn't known for having the best universities. Most people go up to Kanto or even Sinnoh; that's the biggest reason for the brain drain, since people often stay where they attend college."
"I mean, I'll be contributing to that a bit," Hannah replied. "I'm starting at Coronet University in September. If I like it enough, maybe I'll stay there."
"Let's talk about something happier. The future frightens me" I replied.
"Sure" she said, shaking her hair around. "What would you like to talk about?"
"What about…I don't know, colors?"
Hannah looked rather taken aback. "Colors? What are you, seven?"
"Eighteen" I insisted. "Just look at my ID, it says I'm eighteen."
"It's a figure of speech. It means that I wouldn't expect someone our age to be so interested in colors. I thought you would know that."
"I guess I don't. Or at least, I didn't. Anyway, colors…".
Hannah may have sighed, or she might not have. It was hard for me to hear, because when there was something I wanted to talk about, nothing else seemed to matter to me.
"So there's Light Sky Blue, one of my favorite tints of regular blue. It can be made with hex code #93D2FC, which corresponds to a hundred and forty-seven parts red, two hundred and ten parts green, and two hundred and fifty-two parts blue, with each set of two digits giving the value for each color of light."
Hannah looked away. She might not have been amused, but as much as I hate to admit it, I wasn't too focused on her.
"Then there's Killarney, which is a shade of green. I use it for landscape art sometimes, and yes, I paint. It consists of fifty-eight parts red, a hundred and nineteen parts green, and seventy-three parts blue. Nobody knows why it's Killarney; it's just called that."
"Hey, uh, Bryant?" Hannah said after I was done describing that color. She wasn't looking at me.
"What is it, Hannah?" I asked. "I was just talking about colors."
"I know, and that's the problem. You don't seem too interested in what I have to say about my life. It's all about you."
I frowned. "Do you really think so?"
Hannah narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I do, Bryant. It's easy enough for you to say that you're interested, but it's much harder to actually show me your interest. Still, though, don't you want to be friends?"
"Of course," I said.
"In that case, you'd do well to listen to the feedback others give you. Otherwise they'll think you don't care about them, even if you do."
"I suppose" I replied blankly, looking at the bricks on the outdoor patio of the restaurant. They were painted a very bright yellow, fitting the place's name pretty well.
Despite this, my heart felt as though it were being weighed down with a stone. What was supposed to be my perfect first date ever, during which I found a new friend or maybe even something more, wasn't going as planned.
Our food came after a while, and that was a huge relief. No longer did I have to make small talk with Hannah just for the sake of it; I had an excuse not to speak.
"Bryant, why aren't you cutting your steak the right way?"
I frowned. "The right way?"
"You're supposed to hold the fork in your non-dominant hand, then slice the steak with your dominant hand. Unless you're left-handed, you're doing it wrong."
"I'm right-handed," I replied.
"Then hold the fork in your left hand to pin the steak down, then use the knife to cut through it with your right."
I narrowed my eyes, trying to resist the urge to raise my voice. "Why do I have to do it that way?"
"Because other diners will look at you funny if you don't," Hannah said. "Look, we've already attracted a good bit of attention."
Glancing around the restaurant's outdoor section, I saw that she was right. There were three other couples seated, and all of them had trained their eyes on us. One of them, a pair of Inteleon, seemed to be staring right through me, as though analyzing every bit of my DNA.
I sighed loudly. "Fine" I replied, switching the hands in which I held my fork and knife. "Have it your way."
The rest of the meal was highly awkward. I suppose the steak was pretty good, as was the baked potato, but it didn't taste as exquisite as it was supposed to. It just wasn't special the way the restaurant had advertised it.
Once we had finished eating and split our tab, Hannah took one last look at me.
"I wish you luck in all your future endeavors" she said simply before turning around and disappearing into the evening.
My heart sank as I saw her walking away. Feeling rather morose, I got up and walked away from the table as well.
I'll probably never eat at this restaurant again, I thought bitterly. Little did I know, at the time, just how prescient that prediction would end up being.
I called an Uber; the last thing I wanted was to run into Hannah again on the subway.
My ride showed up a few minutes later. This driver didn't ask why my head was hanging low towards the ground; he simply told me to get in, which I did. I didn't want to see the Golden Kitchen ever again; for the rest of my life, I expected it to bring bad memories back up.
I'm not exactly a social expert, but I don't think that first date went very well.
As my Uber drove me away from that scene, I didn't expect things could get much worse. I thought that tomorrow, I'd be able to regroup, think about what went wrong, and try to better my life somehow.
I was wrong.
