“Fine. Did you fix your hair before going out in public?”
“No. I wore it in a bird’s nest on top of my head. You know, how it is in its natural state. Also, you might as well know, I haven’t showered in a week, so my hair has a nice, oily sheen to it.”
“Mackenzie!” she cried out before she burst out laughing.
“Maddie!” I yelled back, teasing her. “I wasn’t wearing the grey shorts, and my hair was pulled back. I’d say I was fairly presentable.”
“This time. Let’s get back to what you’re thinking of wearing on Saturday…”
“Cut to the chase, Maddie. Just tell me what to wear.”
“Yay! Okay, you should totally wear that white strappy dress that kind of flows when you walk, the one with the big, pink flowers on it. And your pearls… and those white sandals you have.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, do your hair nice please? Maybe wear it curly or something.”
My hair was a beast to be reckoned with. Long, dark, and wild, I always considered myself lucky if I managed to get it back in a ponytail. “I make no promises in that department. You might have to come over on Saturday to give me a makeover to make sure I meet your standards.”
“Believe me, I would if I could.”
“Hot date?” I asked, half jokingly. Maddie’s dating record wasn’t much better than mine was. I had a terrible habit of chasing her boyfriends off after hearing what they really thought of her.
“Actually, yes.”
I groaned internally. “With who?”
“A new guy at work. He’s so sweet, funny, and handsome. I just know you’re going to love him.”
Oh God, I could tell she was already gaga for him. “Just take it slow this time, will you?”
“I always take it slow! We never go past first base on the first date!”
“You know what I mean. Don’t…” I hesitated. “You know, fall in love with him so quickly.”
She didn’t respond.
“Maddie…”
“What? He’s sweet! And funny! And handsome!”
“Yes. You said that,” I said flatly.
“When are you coming to meet him?”
I was overdue for a trip to see her. “How about Wednesday? I can come over for dinner with you and your new man, and we can celebrate the turning in of my thesis.”
“That sounds amazing! You’ll stay over, right?”
“Of course.” The drive to Orlando was too long to warrant just going for dinner. “Maddie, what are you going to do if I don’t like him?” I asked, trying to gently prepare her for the worst.
She didn’t answer right away, and I was worried I’d upset her. Just as I was about to ask if she was there, she said, “Well, I suppose I’ll do what I always do—kick him to the curb.”
“Right, because you always do that?”
“Oh my God. You’ll never let me live that down, will you? One time I didn’t listen to you. Once!” Judging by her increasing volume, I’d struck a nerve.
I cleared my throat and tried to diffuse the tension. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t want you to go through that again.”
She quieted a little. “Once was enough. You were right, of course—he was a lying, cheating scumbag.”
I decided it was time to change the subject. “Well, I can’t wait to see you in less than a week!”
“Oh my gosh, yes!”
I glanced over at the clock. How did it get to be 9:30 already? I sighed. “As much as I’d love to talk to you all night, I should go. We both have early mornings.”
“Work schmerk,” she said. “We’re overdue for an all-night chat.”
“Ugh. I don’t think I’ve stayed up past ten since New Year’s Eve.”
“That’s because you’re a grandma trapped in a twenty-five-year-old’s body.”
“Whatever. At least I’m a well-rested grandma,” I retorted.
She laughed. “All right. I’ll see you in a few days. Call me after your date on Saturday.”
“I will, I promise.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, Maddie. Night.” I hung up, trying to hang on to the feeling of pure joy she always left me with. It was good for my soul to talk to her, and I went to bed that night still wearing a smile.
4.
By Saturday, I was feeling good. I had made one round of edits to my thesis, and was working on round two when Maddie texted to see if I’d started getting ready for my date with Ken.
No. Are you? Was my original response.
Yes! I want to look just perfect! Don’t you?
I want to look like me.
She didn’t answer that until an hour later.
I hope you’ve started primping by now.
I still had over an hour before I had to be at the restaurant, so of course, I wasn’t. What do you think?
MAC! You can’t just show up with food in your teeth from breakfast and expect him to fawn.
First of all, what kind of breakfast do you think I eat that could still be stuck in my teeth? Second, isn’t it the woman who’s supposed to fawn?
OMG. Get ready.
Putting on the dress she’d requested took all of two minutes, so I sent her a picture. Happy?
YES! Was her answer. Now do something about your hair.
I hated wrestling with my hair. Managing to find a pink scarf that was close to the shade of the flowers on my dress, I tied my hair away from my face. It was sort of bohemian looking, with black curls falling every which way. Luckily, the just-out-of-bed look was in style right now, and it bordered on sexy.
Digging under my bathroom sink, I even found some pink, dangly earrings to complete the ensemble. Maddie would be proud, I thought.
Standing in front of the mirror, I assessed the damage. I really didn’t look half bad. Thin and proportional. Not too tall, but not too short either. The dress hugged me in all the right places, flowing down to my knees. It really was an excellent choice on Maddie’s part. I nodded to my reflection, satisfied with my work.
Snapping one more pic for Maddie before I donned my sandals and walked out the door, I stuck out my tongue just for her. Tada!
Lovely! Thank you! Although, you might want to keep the face to yourself.
And how about you?
A picture of her promptly came through. She looked gorgeous. Her red hair spilled down over her porcelain shoulders and tumbled over her navy, strapless dress. The skirt was trimmed with pretty off-white lace, but I was having trouble taking my eyes off her cleavage. She was definitely more well endowed than I was, and she wasn’t afraid to flaunt it.
A little daring, don’t you think?
Absolutely.
No wardrobe malfunctions tonight, huh?
Haha! No malfunctions here! If these babies come out, it’ll be on purpose.
The fact that she was fearless made her even more attractive in my opinion. Okay, well, good luck with that. I gotta run to the restaurant.
Have fun and call me when you’re done!
With that sign off, I put in my iLs, grabbed my keys, and headed out.
The restaurant wasn’t too busy for a Saturday night. I hoped that wasn’t a bad omen. Despite the fact that I was a few minutes early, I went inside to get a table. Turned out he’d arrived before me, and the hostess directed me to my seat.
To be honest, he cleaned up well in his baby blue polo and khaki pants. Flashing that winning smile when he spotted me, he stood to greet me.
“You’re very punctual,” I said as he pushed my seat in for me.
“That should give me some points.”
“Should it?”
“Yes! If it didn’t, I would have finished watching that X-Files rerun.”
I laughed. “Well, I suppose I can give you a point or two for your sacrifice.” The menu was interesting, with a wide variety of choices.
“What are you going to get?” he asked after a few moments.
“I think I’ll try the Firec
racker Bowl. How about you?”
“Adventurous, huh? I like that in a woman. I think I’ll try the Citrus Beef today.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Guilty as charged. I bring all my hot dates here,” he said as he folded his menu down.
I bet you do, I thought as I put my own menu on the table.
“So, fess up. What’s with the headphones? Are you that into music?”
“Yes and no. Are you just now noticing them?”
“No. I didn’t want to ask about them at the café. I interrupted you, so I figured you might have forgotten you were wearing them, but then you showed up wearing them today. They don’t exactly compliment your ensemble.”
“Uh, thanks?” I bristled a little.
“Your dress is lovely—stunning, some might say. But the headphones distract a little.”
“Your backpedaling distracts a little.”
“That’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. It’s probably none of my business anyway. Especially not on a first date. You can tell me on date six or seven, okay?”
I wrapped my finger around the wire of my iLs self-consciously. What would he think if he knew the truth?
My first day of kindergarten wasn’t like everyone else’s. I mean, it wasn’t the first time I’d been around that many people. I’d been to the store, of course, and the library with Maddie, but the classroom was such an enclosed space. If there were ten or more kids in the library, I could wander away, feigning disinterest in story time. But there were so many voices in the classroom, and no way for me to escape them.
It didn’t even occur to me to be nervous at the time. I had no idea what might happen. I only felt excitement for this new adventure. At first, it wasn’t so bad. Maddie and I were the first ones there, and I was used to hearing her, after the hours we’d spent playing together in our neighborhood. The teacher was there too, but I was used to having adults around. But then, more and more and more kids came in.
Wow! This is so cool!
I want my mom!
I think I’m gonna puke.
Do I get my own crayons?
When’s lunch? I’m hungry.
Oh no, my desk is brown! I hate brown!
I don’t want to stand in line! My daddy said I’m a princess and princesses DON’T stand in line.
I can’t—
But I—
That’s so—
As more kids came in, I lost track of who they were, and it became such a cacophony of sound that I couldn’t even distinguish complete thoughts any more. I curled into a ball on the floor and covered my ears, trying to block out the roaring train barreling down on me. But, their voices just kept coming.
Maddie came over and put her hand on my back. I think she said something, but her tiny voice didn’t penetrate the roaring in my mind.
In the end, they called my aunt and told her I wasn’t quite ready for school that day. She was furious about missing a day of work to come get me. She didn’t speak to me all day, but her thoughts—the few that I heard—rang loud and clear.
I can’t believe what I gave up for this, she thought on the way home, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. And then, nothing. Her thoughts were always very succinct and to the point. She was the only woman I knew whose thoughts worked that way.
When I told her goodnight, she merely nodded and thought, She better get her act together tomorrow.
The next day, I resolved to redouble my efforts to keep their voices out. But I didn’t have much luck. I couldn’t concentrate on what the teacher was saying over all the noise in my head. It was too many voices for my young mind to handle.
It affected my work immediately. At first, my teacher thought I didn’t know how to read or write, and she didn’t know how to teach me. But when she asked me to stay after school one day to do an assessment, I aced it. One on one, I did fine.
Baffled, she asked, “I don’t understand, Mackenzie. You don’t do your work in class, but it’s clear you’re capable of succeeding. Are you acting out on purpose?”
“No.” I didn’t like it when adults were upset.
Why am I not reaching this girl? What am I doing wrong?
How could I tell her it wasn’t her fault? I barely knew her, so I was hardly going to tell her the truth. I was only five, but I already knew I was different. I decided to be honest, but vague. “I can’t hear you.”
“What do you mean, you can’t hear me? You’re hearing me now, aren’t you?” She can’t hear me? What does that mean? Is she hard of hearing? Does she have special needs of some kind? The questions were coming a mile a minute, and I struggled to form a response.
“Mackenzie, do you mean you can’t focus?”
That was one way of putting it, so I nodded my head.
“Why?”
What a tricky question. And it was worse because she so badly wanted to know the answer—her mind was silent with anticipation. I just stared at her with my giant, brown, kindergarten eyes. I mean, really, she was the adult. Wasn’t she supposed to have the answers to all the tough questions?
She sighed heavily and sat back in her chair. “Well, we know you can’t focus. That’s something.”
A barrage of testing followed. The school psychologist recommended a specialist, which my aunt wasn’t too pleased about. It was just another expense, another drain on her time; a drain she thought was “useless” and “unnecessary.”
The specialist ran a bunch of different tests but, ultimately, the results were “inconclusive.” I could’ve told him why. For some of the tests, he and I were the only ones present. But for others, there were several people watching. He said they were interns, people who were helping him learn about Sensory Processing Disorder, which they thought I had.
Basically, they told my aunt I couldn’t process sound the way normal people did for some unknown reason. She’d taken it as another blow. Another burden. Her dead sister had saddled her with a disabled child.
That was when they gave me my iLs, which at that time was basically a Walkman with giant headphones that played classical music. And that was how I fell in love with music.
The music surrounded me in a way I’d never experienced before. The first time I heard it through the iLs, it was magic. The music played loud enough to drown out the voices, but low enough for me to hear someone if they wanted to speak to me.
When it was on, everything but me, the psychologist, and the music melted away. From that moment on, I was officially diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, and I excelled as long as I had my iLs with me.
It wasn’t perfect. There were days when my batteries died or my iLs broke. Then, my only recourse was to go home to get some peace. But by the time I was in high school, the clunky headphones were replaced with ear buds, and the Walkman was replaced with an iPod. Life just got that much easier.
The psychologist who diagnosed me became uncomfortable with how reliant I was on the iLs, truth be told. He said, particularly with an early diagnosis, it was best for subjects to wean off the device and learn to cope normally with outside stimulus so they could lead more normal lives. And I was sure that was one hundred percent true for someone who really did have Sensory Processing Disorder. But I didn’t.
I was just a mind reader.
Of course, I couldn’t tell Ken that. I hadn’t told anyone. “I was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder when I was five. In a crowd, the headphones help me focus by drowning out…” I paused. I always struggled for the right phrase when trying to explain this to people. “Incoming distractions.”
“I see. Well, if you want, we could go somewhere a little more private after dinner.”
It didn’t take a mind reader to hear the innuendo in his voice. “Let’s see how dinner goes.”
“Fair enough,” he said as the waitress brought our bowls.
“All right, I told you something personal about me. Tell me something personal about you.”
“Well, I don’t have
any rare disorders, if that’s what you’re angling for.”
“No, but thanks for pointing out that I’m a freak,” I said between bites.
“That’s not what I meant!”
I smiled. It was fun to see him flustered.
“Hmm. You’re good.” He jammed noodles in his mouth, perhaps to give himself time to come up with something to say… and maybe swallow his pride a little. “Well, I have four brothers. We all do some kind of manual labor. The oldest owns a moving company. I’m in between the next two, who both work in farming, and the youngest works in construction like me.”
“And do you get along with all of them?”
“Why do women always ask questions like that?” he asked with a smirk.
“I can’t speak for my sex, but I asked you to tell me something personal. I could have Googled you and found out how many brothers you have and probably what they all did. Which means it doesn’t count.” I looked at him over the top of my water glass as I took a drink, giving him an opportunity to respond. He didn’t take it, so I continued, “Let me break it down for you: Do you enjoy spending time with them? Do you go out of your way to see them? Do I need to spell it out any further for your hard head?”
He swatted me playfully with his napkin. “No. I get it. Yes, if you must know. By that definition, we get along well.”
“That’s it? That’s all I get? I basically tell you I’m disabled, which you apparently judge me for, and you tell me you get along with your brothers? Hardly seems fair.”
He threw up his hands. “Fine. I have a big, hairy mole on my ass.”
I burst out laughing.
“I see how it is. Now you’re laughing at my imperfection!”
I shook my head, eating another bite of food, surprised to realize I was actually enjoying myself.
“Your turn. Tell me something about your family.”
I rolled my eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a baby. My aunt raised me, reluctantly. Now that I’m on my own, we don’t see each other.” I looked down into my dwindling plate of food, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Whenever people found out about my family, they always felt “horrible,” “terrible,” or “so sorry” and it made me uncomfortable.
The Unseen Trilogy Page 2
