Page 18 of Make the Play
Why are you always so difficult? Why can’t you be more flexible? Why can’t you relax like your cousin?
Emerson clears his throat, pushing his aunt and uncle's voices from his head. He’d hoped putting some physical distance between them might also put up a mental one, but so far that’s not been the case. Growing up, they made no secret of how much they wished he was more like his cousin Landon. Even after his autism diagnosis in high school, they’d struggled to accept and accommodate the way his brain worked. They were of the mentality that everything could be overcome with hard work and a positive attitude. They were so sure he could be different if he just tried harder or wanted it more—so sure he could be like Landon, who was easygoing and successful. It didn’t matter that he was also a massive asshole; he was charming and friendly enough when he wanted to be that everyone turned a blind eye, including his parents. Landon was their baby boy and the light of their life, and they stoutly refused to believe he could be a bully. Then again, they didn’t see any problem with their own behavior either, so maybe it wasn’t so surprising.
As a kid, he’d been told he should be grateful his aunt and uncle took him in when he had nowhere to go, but the older he’s gotten the more aware he is that he shouldn’t have had to mask everything just to have a home. Emerson was thirteen when he realized that’s why his mom never lived close to her brother, why they only talked on holidays. They didn’t understand Emerson, and they’d clearly never understood her, not in life or in death.
Thinking about his mom makes his eyes water, and Emerson breathes the salty scent of sea in the air through his nose, his throat tight. He thought coming here might bring peace but so far all it’s done is make him feel like the inside of a snow globe someone won’t stop shaking. When he was five, his kindergarten class had a field trip to the zoo. His mom handed him a ziploc bag with a small stack of crumpled one dollar bills from her waitressing job, whispered‘have fun and don’t let them make you feel bad’before she dropped him off in front of the school to go to work. He used the money to buy a plastic snow globe with little monkeys and tigers on it, shaking it up hard so all the glitter would float through the water. He cried so hard when it broke a few months later, glitter clinging to his small hands and his mom’s lips pressed to the top of his head promising it would be okay. The next day there’d been a new snow globe on the table when he got home from school. If his mom wasn’t hungry for dinner that week, he hadn’t noticed because he’d been too happy with his gift.
Emerson sighs again, scrubbing his hands over his face before looking at his watch for what feels like the millionth time. If the bus doesn’t get here in the next two minutes, he's going to end up being late for work, a possibility he doesn’t want to think about.
“You need a ride?”
Emerson jerks his head up at the question, surprised to see a familiar face. Emerson has maybe, possibly, gone out of his way to avoid said face. Because it’s very distracting to be thinking about how handsome someone is, and wondering why they’re being nice to him while trying to focus on being a functioning adult. And also because he’s unequivocally certain that if Jason got to know him, he would get annoyed with him the way Emerson’s family always did. That’s why it’s easier to just stay away from people. Especially people like Jason who are handsome and friendly and well-liked by everyone.
“I’m just waiting for the bus,” Emerson announces with more confidence than he feels.
Jason turns to look out the window before returning his gaze to Emerson. “I don’t see the bus. This route can be kind of unreliable. We get a lot of kids marked tardy because of it. The principal has been emailing the city about it but—” he stops and shrugs. “Anyway, we’re obviously going the same way, so you might as well let me give you a ride to school.”
“Why are you smiling?” Emerson asks, unable to stop himself.
“Why not?” Jason counters with another easy smile.
Emerson can’t imagine smiling so much for no discernible reason. He can’t deny the smile looks good on Jason though, natural even. As natural as Emerson’s resting frowny face. Growing up, he’d been chastised more times than he can count for looking mad or ungrateful, even though he hadn’t even felt those things. He learned how to smile on command, but it takes a lot of effort. Somehow, Jason makes it look natural, the lines at the corners of his eyes and the deep dimple in his chin making it appear as if his smile is actually meant to be there. Between his rich brown eyes and striking black hair, he’s handsome in the most devastating way. The kind of way that reminds Emerson he’s never been on a date, or kissed someone and probably never will. It’s impossible to do those things when you can’t relax enough around someone to even be friends. He supposes some people kiss and date, or even have sex, without that component but it’s not something Emerson is interested in. He spends enough time masking in his day-to-day life, he’s never wanted to do it during more intimate moments too. Even when that means it robs him of opportunities.
“Emerson?” Jason prompts, his smile unwavering. “Can I give you a ride?”
Given his past experience with jocks, namely Landon, his first instinct is to say no, but Emerson bites the response back. Breathing in slowly and deeply, Emerson tries to approach the offer with logic. It seems impossible that Jason is as nice as he seems, especially being a football coach. Jocks aren’t this nice. That’s not even touching how attractive Jason is or the fact that in the two weeks since Emerson started teaching he’s come to learn that he is, without question, the favorite teacher at Santa Leon High. Even if it wasn’t verified by the award he won the last two years—displayed in the gym according to one of his students—it’d be easy to see from the way students and staff talk about him.
Even avoiding Jason’s side of the school, there’s been no escaping his presence. Something Emerson definitely tried, if only to take a moment to shield against making a fool of himself in front of the unequivocal star at his new school. He thought becoming a teacher might free him from the unfavorable social dynamics of his past. Yet there’s no escaping the popularity chains and friendship groups he is not a part of. All that taken into consideration, there is literally no reason for Jason to be offering him a ride unless he feels sorry for Emerson. Which, well, sucks because Emerson hates when people pity him or assume he’s not capable of things just because he needs different accommodations. There’s no place for Emerson’s wounded pride today unless he wants to be late, and the last thing he needs is to look unreliable at work.
“Alright,” Emerson says, fighting his instincts screaming at him. “You can give me a ride.”
There’s no reason for Jason’s smile to widen but it does, his large body tipping sideways so he can swing the door open. The only thing worse than developing a crush on someone popular and easy to like, is developing a crush on someone who is most likely straight. Pushing those thoughts aside, he walks to the truck and opens the door, surprised when Jason holds a hand out for his bag.
“I can do it myself,” Emerson points out.
“Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t help?” Jason asks with a wink, taking Emerson’s bag and setting it in his backseat while Emerson hefts himself into the truck.
Emerson wants to point out that Jason doesn’t need to keep helping him, but that seems ungrateful and also pointedly untrue given that he, in fact, needed his help on more than one occasion already. Sighing heavily, he reaches for his ring and realizes it’s not there. He always puts it on before his shoes, but one of his neighbors had knocked on his door this morning looking for their lost cat, and he’d been so worried about being late after being unsure how to get out of the conversation, he’d hurried from his apartment apparently without his ring.
A knot forms in the pit of his stomach. He always wears it. Always.
“You alright?” Jason asks, waiting until Emerson buckles his seatbelt before merging into the busy morning traffic.
Emerson has enough experience with neurotypical conversations to be aware this is probably one of those times where someone is asking him a question they don’t really want the answer to. The thing a lot of people fail to understand about Emerson is that he’s perfectly capable of reading social situations, sometimes. He just doesn’t understand the logic in the frequently arbitrary rules and therefore often can’t bring himself to follow them.
“No,” he answers. “I forgot my ring, and I always wear it, and now I won’t have anything to fidget with, and it’s going to throw off my entire day.”
“Do you want me to turn around so you can go back and get it?” Jason asks, already tapping the brakes as if to slow down and make a u-turn at the next intersection.
“No,” Emerson answers because the prospect of being late is worse than not having his ring.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any rings, but—” Jason pauses, opening the center console. Inside is an array of brightly colored fidgets: a puzzle ball, a spinner, a little tub of theraputty and a couple squish balls.
“Why do you have all this?” Emerson asks.
“Alec,” Jason answers, resettling his eyes on the road. Whether that’s because of the increased traffic in front of the school or to afford Emerson a moment to search the little treasure trove in his truck, he has no idea. Usually he prefers no one noticing him, but Jason’s manner of picking up on something being wrong isn’t to point it out in a cruel way or correct him, and that’s kind of, well—nice.
“Who is Alec?” Emerson blurts. It’s possible Jason was going to offer up that information next, but Emerson tends to lack impulse control when curious.
