All in my Mind

VIII.

If someone asked Alexander what his childhood was like, he'd probably say it was pretty good given the circumstances. He'd tell you about the day he found out he was going to have a little sister. He'd tell you about his first soccer game. He'd talk about his first kiss when he was 12, and how she broke up with him the next day since he was being sent to middle school early. He'd talk about how his family had dinner together every night up until Emily started living at the hospital part time. He'd talk about how great his parents were at Christmas. Alexander liked to believe he had a good family and a good life. He was happy with things.

Since Alexander's not here to tell the story, I'll tell you my version instead. I'll tell you how Alexander figured out he never stood a chance.

Alexander got obsessive with trying to find out what was wrong quite quickly . He had always had an obsessive personality. That's why he didn't drink or do any of the other mind altering things Parker offered him. It's why he was excellent at everything he tried too. Practice always makes perfect and he practiced obsessively. He was literally almost better at sign language than his own deaf sister. He learned German for fun over the summer because he thought his first year of German class was boring. He taught himself how to drive.

He started out with a notebook and a calendar. The calendar seemed like the most logical way to track things. I know I said we had nothing in common, but I guess the value we put on logic is quite the same. He wanted to get an accurate order of events running. If nothing else, it helped him realize how not random the two events were; the bees and the German TV voices. The thing was, there were more than two things concerning him, and he'd truly been in denial.

On their own, those two things were quite random anyways. They didn't tell him anything. They couldn't. If anything, all they said was that he wasnt sleeping enough.

So he went to the calendar and decided to focus on sleep. How much sleep was he getting? When? Why wasn't he getting more? Why hadn't he slept more preceding these events?

"Mom do I sleep enough?"

That's how he chose to broach any part of the conversation with his mom. To clarify: that was as personal as he got with her. He didn't want her to worry. There wasn't anything to worry about. Alexander thought he was being dramatic and fixating on something small. Why would he get his mom involved?

They were sitting at the table. She'd made macaroni and cheese which was actually Alexander's favorite, although he felt too old to admit it. His sister was watching tv too loud again in the other room. He hadn't asked her to turn it down since the thing.

His mom looked up from her spot at the table and frowned ever so slightly, which alarmed him.

"No," she answered. "You've always been a light sleeper. Even as a little kid you were always the first person up on the morning. You get it from your dad I think."

That in itself wasn't an odd situation. His mom didn't mention his dad often, which he always deduced was because his mom was still hurt by how everything played out. She may have been the one that asked for her husband to leave, but she certainly hadn't wanted that outcome. It's just hard when you're convinced your spouse is doing drugs, especially when he's talking crazy and especially when he's suddenly not the gentlest person you've ever known anymore. Like when your son watches him shove you over to protect you from demons that only he can see. Except for maybe she didn't know that Alexander saw that part of the argument. Alexander had stayed hidden behind the wall. When it happened, he'd wanted to do something. He wanted to say something. Protect his mom maybe? Anything. But he just stood rooted there watching as she straightened herself up and pointed him towards the door. And he hadn't come back.