Ten | newtmas

twenty two

"Really," Thomas says. "Can I go first?"

I want to ask whether he meant go first asking or go first answering, but I decide not to. I'll probably find out now, anyway. "Sure."

"Okay, what you said about your father not understanding you, what did you mean?" Thomas asks.

    "That's an odd question," I say. "You sound like Rat Man."

    Thomas laughs. "You agreed, answers for answers."

    "Fine. He doesn't make an effort to understand me. We used to get along nicely, but since I started with all this, he's disconnected from me," I say.

    "It started with your tens? Are you sure? What was your relationship like before it?" Thomas asks, leaning forward.

    "I don't recall agreeing to follow up questions," I say. Thomas looks at me with pleading eyes, so I sigh and cave. "We used to do normal father and son things. Like going to games and stuff like that."

"Did you stop wanting to go to them? Or did he not want you to?" Thomas asks.

"A little bit of both, I s'pose," I say. "I lost interest in sports, but it wasn't just that, we stopped doing anything."

"Interesting," Thomas says. "Okay, ask me something."

I've had nothing but questions about this boy, but now that I have the opportunity to ask, I can barely think. Finally, something comes to me.

"Do you have a family?" I ask.

"I do," Thomas says simply.

"I think the elaboration was implied," I say.

"I've got a mother and a sister," Thomas says. I'm not sure how I notice, but I can swear I see the light in his eyes flicker. The strain in his voice helps my observation, and it makes me decide to drop it.

"Okay," I say. "Your turn."

"Ever date anyone?" Thomas asks.

    I can feel my face start burning in an instant, avoiding Thomas' gaze now. The intense embarrassment causes my eyes to water, my heart going at hummingbird speed. It's not a weird question, it's not a bad question, so why am I so tripped up?

    I suddenly realize that I've yet to answer. "No, no I haven't."

    "Why is that?" Thomas asks.

    'Isn't this personal?', I want to ask. 'Why is that your business?'

    "I dunno, I was never that interested in anyone, I guess," I say.

    "Nobody ever caught your eye? I feel like they'd be all over you," Thomas says.

    "Excuse me?" The words come out before I can stop them.

    "You. The accent, the looks, everything. I figured you'd have been popular," Thomas says.

    My eyes are still tearing and my face is still red as I reach up and run a hand through my hair to distract myself. "Not really—shouldn't I be asking you something?"

    "Go ahead." I finally look up to see Thomas with his eyes trained directly on me, like nothing will ever take them away.

    "Are you asking questions to be friendly, or to figure out what's wrong with me?" I ask, not holding back so that hopefully he gets as shaken as I am.

    "Both," Thomas answers. "I like you. You're different. So, yes, I am being friendly. But you've also got something special going on up here," he says, tapping his forehead, "and I'd like to help figure it out."