Saving Laurel

42. Change of Plans

Wes Thompson

"Overall I think (whistle) it went okay." I tell Brett the next morning as he parks his car in the school parking lot.

"I'm sure it was fine." He reassures. "You find yourself more embarrassing than everyone else does."

I snort, "you don't count, you're desensitized".

He gives me that sideways, annoyed look. The one that means shut up.

"What'd you do last night?" I ask changing the subject to him as we pick our way to the front doors of the school.

Someone shouts something into the air that draws both of our attention and when my eyes land on Sawyer, I quickly look away. Sawyer can have as much attention as he wants, as long as I'm not involved.

It takes Brett slightly longer to shift his focus. "Nothing."

"I thought you said you had to go to your cousins or something?" My mind tries to back track but I tic, my hand slamming into my chest.

Brett doesn't change except for the slightly longer time his eyes linger on me. Yeah I know Brett, this tic is particularly attention seeking. I don't love it.

"Oh yeah." He shrugs, clearing his throat as his finger finds the bridge of his glasses and pushes them farther onto his nose. "Nothing really. Just hung out."

I'm aware that he is particular tight lipped but I can't figure out why. I've met most of his family. Depending on what cousins he's talking about they're either older than us, mid twenties or younger in the 5-8 range.

"One of their birthdays or something?" I prod.

I study his profile, his curly hair that sits like a wild mess on top of his head, his black framed glasses that make him look every bit as intelligent as he is. I remember one time he broke his glasses and had to wear contacts to school. Cora specifically couldn't believe she had never noticed how "beautiful" his eyes were. Her words, not mine.

"Nah, just hung out."

I'm not buying it and I have every intention of probing farther after I tic. We reach the front doors of the school and just as I'm about to follow Brett in and continue with my questions, we both stop at the sound of our names being shouted. Glancing over my shoulder, I see James jogging through the parking lot after us, Savannah lagging behind him.

He reaches us in just a minute, grinning like a maniac as he breathes out a good morning. He's not even winded after his morning jog across the parking lot. And before either of us can say anything back he shouts "come on Van!" at his sister.

She doesn't speed up.

"What's up with her? Fuck!" I ask, starting the morning off with cussing is always a great sign.

James smiles, throwing his arm around me and saying, "oh you know, the usual. She had to wake up."

Brett snorts, the three of us clogging the doors as we wait for Savannah. Her brown hair is piled on her head, pieces spilling out of it like she woke up late. She has a pair of brightly colored sneakers on that clash with the pastel pink skirt she's wearing and the navy T-shirt that has some sort of faded logo on it.

When she reaches us though, her mood picks up and I watch her smile at Brett. He drops his eyes to the floor and heads into the school first.

"Hey." I greet her.

She lets out a sigh and even though I can tell the smile wants to fall from her face she holds it there.

"Hey Wes."

James tucks her under his arm, me still on his other side and we jam ourselves three wide through the narrow doorway.

"Where's Ellie?" Savannah asks.

"I'm sure she'll show up sooner rather than later." James muses.

I tic, the normal ones but only because I can feel my newly acquired tic building and I'd rather refrain from that one if it's possible. We'll see how long I can focus on suppressing it. That's almost a joke, a really not funny one.

I just need to stay aware of what tics want to come out while also paying attention to everything else while suffering from ADHD, what could possibly go wrong?

And then all my focus is derailed when Savannah says "Hey, there's Laurel."

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"Hey dad." I greet into my phone as casually as I can muster.

Which isn't very casually because as soon as I see his name, stress starts to eat away at me.

"Hey bud, so I wanted to see what you were doing this weekend." He says. "I know you were just here but I was thinking seems how you've got a keyboard here now, there's nothing really stopping you from coming over more."

Except the fact that my dad doesn't get how OCD works or Tourette's.

I cycle through my normal tics but it doesn't settle the urges that are starting to pile up so I shove myself off the piano bench and start to pace. Straightening things that don't need to be straightened as I go.

"What do you think?" He asks again.

I should probably say yes but if I'm being honest I want to say no. Does that make me a bad son? Probably.

"My friends were coming over on Friday for a movie night." It's not a great excuse no matter how true it is. "It's sort of a thing we do."

My head jerks to the side twice and then I slam my hand against my chest so hard I almost knock the air out of my lungs. The result, a weird choke that I instantly apologize for.

That tic needs to go.

"You're allowed to have friends over here. Just tell them the address." He says it so matter-of-factly that there's nothing really to counter with.

I pace the hardwood, mulling over my options.

Option 1: be a crap son and tell him no when he's clearly making an effort
Option 2: tell him 'maybe' and then avoid his calls from here on out
Option 3: come up with some lame excuse about how mom won't let me even though I know he won't buy it but when he asks my mom about it she'll cover for me
Option 4: go to my dads and be borderline miserable the entire time but make him happy

Letting out a sigh, I tic. Unfortunately, stupid really, my phone is in my right hand and that's always the arm the tics and as expected my phone goes flying.

Perfect.

I cringe, plucking it off the floor, relieved only when I see the screen isn't shattered. It's short lived relief though as my dad's voice meets my ear once again.

"Wes, buddy, you there?"

"Yeah sorry." I tell him. "Phone slipped."

Not really, you just make me tic worse than normal and I definitely just launched my phone because of it. Not that I'll ever say that though.

So even though I don't want to change my plans, the plans that my OCD and I have already gone over and assessed the stress and all the options and decided to okay, I nod my head.  Not that he can see.

"Yeah, this weekend sounds great."

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The shower is tiled 🥳 now I just need to grout it next week and then we're in the home stretched of my moms condo being finished and when we officially finish I'm going to kindly tell her to fuck off. Haha just kidding, sort of, I'll probably tell her to fuck off but I'll be joking, mostly.