Blue Coffee Mugs and the Agoraphobic [boyxboy] ✔

Philosophy Lessons

SIXTEEN

acatalepsy
(n.) the impossibility of comprehending the universe; the belief that human knowledge can never have true certainty

It's a Friday night, Austin and I are sitting in the backyard, freezing our butts off. No one says anything though, because this is just nice.

"I wanna be a ghost after I die.", I tell him.
"Why?"

"For obvious reasons - I mean, who wouldn't want to be able to walk through walls, and- and do whatever they want without having to face any consequences.", I answer.

"So you believe in ghosts?"
I nod, "Well, yeah. I don't exactly know how I'm supposed to picture them, but I'm sure there's something like that after death."
"You're not kidding?", he asks.
"No."

"Ghosts... How could ghosts be real?", Austin snorts. I'm a tiny bit offended, but don't show it, "Why wouldn't they be? Prove that they're not."
"But that's completely ridiculous! How can I possibly prove that they don't exist? Do you expect me to get hold of- of every single book and information source about ghosts and stuff and try summoning or contacting them everywhere in the world? I mean, you could claim that anything is real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody's proved it doesn't exist."
I nod, "Yes you could. I'm glad to see that you're not unintelligent and are opening your mind a little."
With that, the silence continues.

"You make me think, Ashby.", Austin mumbles. "Oh, I have better stuff. Wanna hear some?" He nods.

"Uh... Does free will actually exist?" He gives me a strange look, "Of course." I smile knowingly, "But think about it - atoms and particles behave in probabilistic ways, but everything, even ourselves, our bodies, our brains are made out of atoms and particles. How can free will exist?"

He looks up at the sky, "I have no idea, honestly. I'll think about that when I can't sleep sometime. I have one too: Why do people just believe when one tells them that there are billions of stars, but has to check when one tells them that the paint is wet?"

I grin slightly, "Good question. It's probably because humans long for something they can be sure of, and for everything to be as accurate as possible - we want to correct people, because if we check wether or not the paint is wet, and it's not, we can be like: 'Hey, you're wrong.', see? But it's very unlikely that someone is able to count the stars - or even estimate how many there are - and actually have it be perfectly accurate - the thing is, we don't think about things we can't reach that much, and stars aren't very easy to reach. The freshly painted fence, however, is easy to reach - so we check.", I try to explain. "Stop being so smart, it frustrates me.", Austin jokes and I smile at him.

"I'm not even smart. I suck at almost everything. Even in school."
"Hey, intelligence and being good in school are two entirely different things, so don't you compare them, okay? Someone who only gets A's can be really unintelligent, and the school's worst student, can be more intelligent than anyone else could ever wish to be."

"You're really good at making me feel better about stuff like that. Thank you. I think you're very smart, too."
He gives a light laugh, "I'm not really, but that's okay - not everyone can be smart."

"And just by you saying that, I can tell that you are smart. You just don't notice your intelligence that much, because you probably have a lot going on, with school and stuff - I can only imagine it being kind of stressful. But that doesn't mean you don't have any intelligence. Am I even making sense right now? This all probably sounds really stupid, it seemed more logic and assuring in my head - I'm sorry."

Austin grins at me, "No, it does make sense. Thank you. You're a great person." I shake my head slightly, but decide not to argue for now.

As if on cue, my mom yells from the front of the house: "Alan! Dinner's ready! Does your friend wanna join us?" I look at Austin and give him a questioning look - he just shrugs.

"Hold on!", I yell back at my mom. Austin and I get to our feet and he follows me to the front door, where my mom's standing.

"So...Austin, right, dear?", she starts. Austin nods, "Yes ma'am", he says politely. My mom smiles warmly, "Oh please, don't use 'ma'am' it makes me feel so old", she laughs, "just call me Sonja."

"Okay...Sonja. Thanks...", Austin says awkwardly. "Anywho, do you want to have dinner with us? Do you like lasagna?", she asks.

"If it's not too much of an inconvenience...?"
My mother just laughs, "Of course it's not, don't be silly! Come on in, it's getting cold!"

We do as we're told and step into the warm house, leaving our shoes by the door. I go to the dining room, Austin following me like a scared puppy. It's weird, because he's usually so outgoing.

When my brother sees Austin, his face lights up and I know hat I'm in for a dinner full of embarrassing questions and stories - great.
"Hey!", he yells, laughing, "You're the infamous Austin, right?" Austin just gives an awkward, unsure nod. "I've heard a lot about you - that ginger snap over there never-"

"Okay, Nick, I'm gonna stop you right there. If you're gonna start anything calling me that, there's no way it's gonna be good. Secondly, just shut up in general, nobody's interested in what you have to say, anyway. And lastly, that was two times, one, because he showed up while I was asleep and the other one when mom talked to Anna. So yeah, now that we've established this, you can shut up entirely - for like, the rest of me living here."

"Let's just hope that you'll move out sometime in the first place", he laughs, and although I'm really annoyed by him, I can't help but grin a little.

Austin gives a slightly shocked look. We make these jokes all the time in our family, and honestly, it's great. I don't want anyone to have to walk on eggshells around me. I just want to be treated normally, because I am normal.

"Boys stop. We have a guest.", my mom says firmly as she steps into the dining room, placing the food on the table and sitting down with us. "Marcus, Ina!", she shouts, "Dinner is goddamn ready - for the third time!" After a short while, my sister and dad appear at the table, too, and we all begin to eat.

My sister is really polite towards Austin, and I'm glad that she isn't trying to embarrass me. She can be really nice... If she wants to be.

"So, Ina, you've packed your stuff?", my mom asks. "Yes, mom", she answers in annoyance, "for the third time."
"Good, you better, because I don't exactly feel like driving back home and then back there because you forgot some damn shoe or something."

My sister just rolls her eyes, "Yeah, but we need to get going soon. Seeing Alan's face this much before a performance is bad luck."

My mom ignores our bickering for now, "Nick, honey, can you and your dad clean up? Ina is right, we do have to get going soon."

"I love you too", I answer Ina sarcastically. "Oh, and mom doesn't even like you - I'm her favorite kid and you're adopted.", she says.
"Yeah right. She's just nicer to you because you're the ugliest kid.", I snort.
"I'm the ugliest? What kind of bullshit is that? Mom, be honest, who's the cutest?"

"Me. Now, come on, let's go, we're almost running late.", my mom says as she rushes through the dining room to the kitchen. "Thanks for dinner, uh, Sonja.", Austin says. "Don't mention it", my mom smiles. I look over at Austin, who has just been watching the whole scene with a mixture of amusement and shock on his face.

"What do you wanna do?", I ask him.
"I love your family", he replies more or less randomly, "You're all so close and cool. I don't know." I shrug, "Yeah, I guess it's alright. Although it can get sort of annoying. But back to the question: what do you wanna do? Or do you have to get home? I mean, it's like, eight and you have school tomorrow, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah. Shit. I guess I should be getting home. I'll text you tomorrow or just come over, alright?" I nod, smiling. I bring him to the door, and he gives me a hug, before disappearing into the darkness.

[okay I keep reading comments about how cute and fluffy this is... One word: patience.]