Things Fall Apart: Chapter 18: Juno's Lock-In 1.2

Juno

Ben and I spend probably an hour and a half on the soccer field, talking and laughing, waiting to get hungry. When we finally do get hungry, we devour two delicious peanut butter and banana sandwiches, an entire Tupperware bowl of strawberries and half a bag of potato chips. When we’re done, Ben stands me up while he packs everything and we make our way to the quad for the last of the s’mores. Ben can’t hold my hand because of all the stuff he is carrying, and he refuses to let me help him. I don’t usually let people treat me differently because of my blindness, but with Ben, I don’t really mind. Yet.

I hear people shouting and feel them running past us. Someone shouts something about a park and another wonders where she left her purse.

“What’s going on?” I shout to Ben over the noise. I clutch his arm; the noise interferes with my concentration on not running into anything. Ben sets the picnic stuff down on something, and takes my hand.

“There are buses in the parking lot,” he says. He’s probably leading me there. “One of the activities is to take us to Centennial Olympic Park to play in the fountains.” I’ve heard of the Park in Atlanta. It was built to commemorate the Olympics. I’ve heard the fountains there are beautiful and light up the whole park at night.

I’ve never seen Centennial Olympic Park. I’ve never seen the fountains.

And I never will.

“Do you want to go?” I ask, stopping wherever we are. The noise of everyone going fades but still rings in my ears.

“If you want to,” Ben says. I can’t read his voice, and I can’t feel any kind of vibe and I can’t freaking see his face, and I’m starting to get frustrated.

“Whoa, what’s wrong, Juno?” he asks, his hands finding my shoulders. “Talk to me. What’s going on in your head, right now?”

“I can’t see the fountains,” I hear my voice croak, tearing out of my throat. Almost like a sob, but not quite. I don’t cry. “I will never see the fountains, and I can’t help you pack up the picnic and I can’t carry heavy things and I can’t see the ocean anymore and I can’t drive and I can’t play ping pong with my little sister and I can’t see the fucking fountains.”

Ben doesn’t say anything. He takes his hands off my shoulders and I feel them again on my back. His chest presses against my face. I realize he’s hugging me. I put my arms out and find his back and press. I turn my head so I don’t suffocate.

“I’m so sorry, Juno,” Ben says. His voice snaps and breaks like firewood. I feel something wet on top of my head. I think it’s a raindrop but then I think about the way Ben apologized and realize he’s crying. I pull away a little.

“Whoa, Ben, don’t cry,” I say. “I’m not even crying and I’m the one who’s blind.” Ben chokes out a laugh and sniffles. “Why are you sorry, anyway? You’re not the one who made me blind.”

Ben stops laughing. He pulls away from me completely, one hand still on my arm. He starts to say something. “Juno, I–”

“Hey guys!” a voice– Adrian– calls behind me. “Are you going to the park?” I feel my face smile.

“Sure,” I say, taking Ben’s hand. “Let’s go.” I can definitely feel Ben’s vibe now.

Ben walks me a few yards and helps me into a bus. He sits me down in a seat and sits beside me.

“Can you, uhm...” I gesture toward where I can feel the seatbelt. “Just hand it to me?”

“Here, let me,” Ben says. He buckles me in.

I’m not a four year old, I remind myself. I can buckle my own seatbelt.

Just be patient, says my conscience. He still doesn’t really know how to treat a blind person.

“Thanks,” I say, too late, but Ben doesn’t seem to care. It’s a half hour drive from the school into downtown Atlanta so Ben and I talk. The people in the bus are loud, but not too loud that I’m bewildered. There’s no air conditioning in the bus so after a few minutes, everyone feels the heat. At one point, we mention our mutual love of Owl City, and Ben pulls out something sleek and rectangular– his phone?– and some wires.

“Here,” he gives me one wire and I feel an earbud on the end. I put it in my ear. Ben does some tapping and suddenly, we’re head banging to his latest EP. I laugh because I have no idea how I look and I’ve never been so okay with not knowing.

We listen to the rest of the album in silence, appreciating Adam Young’s genius. Finally, Ben tells me we’re here. Before he can, I unbuckle and stand.

“Whoa, take it easy,” he says.

“I can do it myself, too, ya know,” I say, half-joking so it doesn’t sound so snappish. I wonder if Ben grins at that.

Ben helps me off the bus and I can hear the fountains. Running water, bare feet hitting the concrete, shrieks of surprise when the water splashes up from the ground without warning. The smells of wet bodies and recycled water make my nose smart and my eyes water. We sit down on a bench a little away from the water.

“What does it look like?” I ask Ben, who hasn’t let go of my hand even though we’re sitting. I can’t decide whether it feels nice or suffocating.

“Right now, the color of the water is purple,” Ben says, “and the drama kids are singing ‘Let it Go,’ while pretending to make the water rise with magic.”

I hear my laughter soaring above the din of the park.

“Some nerds are pretending to be water benders,” Ben continues. I stop him there.

“I love Avatar: The Last Airbender,” I defend. I used to watch it every Saturday morning with Frey while Asteria braided my hair and made comments like, “Why are they dressed like that?” and “What’s with the arrows?”

“I do too, but I’m not going to pretend to be a water bender,” Ben says. I feel his shoulders shrug beside me. I get a little mad, and then I decide to let it go. Ben’s just trying to help, and anyway, he just shared a little piece of himself with me. I should be grateful for that. I should be grateful he’s even talking to me.

“What else is going on?” I ask, leaning into his arm. I feel like putting my head on his shoulder but that might be a little much.

“Uhmm... A couple of punks who don’t go to Meltdown are trying to splash Mrs. Perchnap,” Ben says. “I think she’s– whoa that’s a lot of cursing for an old lady.” I chuckle.

“She’s not cursing,” I say. “You’re making that up.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m blind, not deaf, you idiot.” That came out wrong. But Ben doesn’t care.

“I like making up little stories about people I don’t know,” Ben simply replies. He leans over to me and whispers, “I want to be a writer when I grow up.”

I pull away from his arm and feel my mouth form an O of surprise.

“Really? You?”

“Yeah, I know, stupid, right?”

There’s a pause.

“Of course it’s not stupid,” I say. “Stupid is...” I almost said Stupid is letting a boy blind you but I couldn’t say the words. “It’s not stupid. It’s fantastic.”

Ben doesn’t say anything but I feel his body leaning closer... What’s going on? His hands cup my face... Oh, no, what’s happening?

A deep terror rises in my stomach. I remember hands like that, ten years ago, when I was eight. I remember a body leaning like that, ten years ago. I start to panic. I don’t remember getting up but suddenly I’m on the ground and my head is pounding like it’s at a concert only it’s not at a concert it’s at the park that I can’t see because I’m blind because of a boy that did those same things Ben just tried to do and why can’t I just calm down my heart won’t stop beating against my rib cage like it’s trying to escape– it’s like me trying to escape but even I know you can’t escape darkness that’s apart of you...

I’m thrashing on the ground trying to get away, get away, get away, where’s my mommy? Mommy? I hear my eight year old voice screaming in the distance but I don’t know how to calm her down how do you calm her down?

I can hear Ben’s voice far away asking me what’s wrong but I just can’t tell him I can’t tell him I can’t...

I open my mouth to scream.