Page 39 of The Reno
“I bet you’ve said that before.”
A throaty laugh sounded from Liam, and surprise rolled through me.
“I can’t imagine you playing the piano,” I said out of nowhere.
I felt Liam tense.
“Too common for piano, huh?” A hardened edge to his self-deprecating tone.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I could see you more on drums.”
“Our mum wanted us to learn,” Liam explained as we swayed. “She never got the chance, so I think she wanted to make sure we did. She grew up on a council estate, so once my dad started earning some money, I think she thought piano lessons were what the middle-class kids did.”
I nodded. “That makes sense. I wish I could have done extra stuff. But my mum just signed me up for extra maths and English.” I had meant it to come out like a light joke, but I sounded bitter.
“Did you struggle at school?”
“Understatement.”
“It was bad?”
The curious tone in Liam’s voice opened me up, so I was honest. “I hatedschool. I hated the exams and the pressure. I was always at the bottom of the class, and my mum—” I stopped, unable to process the disappointment I’d brought to my mother. My shoulders tensed, and then, as if sensing my unease, Liam stroked his thumb across my back. It was simultaneously comforting and maddening.
Now it was my mouth that couldn’t move.
“Distracted, Red?” Liam murmured, that voice smooth like honey. I glanced up to find Liam much closer than I’d expected. His eyes bore into mine, intense and fiery.
“I’m fine,” I squeaked.
Liam hummed. “You were talking about your mum.” His thumb was still there, moving back and forth, driving me to distraction.
“My mum was a teacher,” I managed to get out, “so she was disappointed when I did badly at school. So I worked twice as hard.”
“Sounds like you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I think I am getting to. You’re bloody stubborn.”
I raised my chin, meeting his eyes. “I prefer determined.”
“Determined,” he repeated, humour lacing his voice. “What does your mum think about you being up here?”
I huffed. “She… ah. She doesn’t know.”
“She doesn’t approve?”
“No. She doesn’t… she didn’t think I could do it. She knows about all my quirks.”
I could hear Liam’s frown. “Your quirks.”
“I’m a scatterbrain. Unorganised. Flighty. I get bored easily. I try to keep it together; I use coping mechanisms to keep organised and on top of things, but it’s exhausting keeping the plates spinning. They call it masking. I realised when I got my diagnosis that I’d been doing it all my life. I looked at how everyone else behaved and copied it.”
“Masking,” Liam repeated like it was a new word.
“Yeah, people with autism do it too. The world isn’t built for us, so we mould ourselves to fit.” I huffed. “Sometimes, I think I’ve masked so much that I don’t know my real personality. Is this just one I came up with to hide?” I shrugged. The silence made me feel like I’d overshared, so I laughed and added, “Who knows.”
“It sounds exhausting. Does your mum not understand that?”
