Saving Laurel

19. We Gotta Fix That

Wes Thompson

"Ready?" Laurel asks, her keys dangling from her finger as I stand beside her at her car.

This is okay. I tic, okay, maybe not okay.

I thought that I could handle riding home with Laurel but let's be honest here. I'm a mess. Shifting on my feet, I'm flooded with relief when I see Brett still standing by his wagon playing on his phone.

"Do you, fuck off! mind following Brett." Shoulder, neck, inhale, nose. Still no relief.

Laurel regards my curiously and I'm waiting for her to say something to ask questions but then she just shrugs her shoulders.

"Sure."

Walking the distance across the parking lot, I wait until I'm in Brett's car to let out a sigh of relief. Brett takes a moment to turn on my playlist, dialing the radio to the right volume as I tic. I check the dials even though I know Brett's got them right but it satisfies my OCD so I do it anyway.

"Thanks." Whistle, jerk my head, and I shout cunt. "Sorry."

"No problem. Though at some point she's going to ask." He says and I know.

I mean my Tourette's isn't something that I can hide, even suppressing. But it sort of let's my OCD chill in the background unnoticed and my ADHD is managed for the most part. As long as I take my medication, it's not that apparent. I think.

I just don't like starting off an introduction with 'Hey I'm Wesley, here's a list of all the stuff that's wrong with me'.

I already look like a crazy person, I don't need to confirm it with a list of medical acronyms.

"Yeah, I will." I get stuck in a tic, jerking my head into the air, the straining of my muscles makes a headache bloom in my temples.

Just what I need.

"So what sparked this event anyway?" Brett asks, driving as if I'm not completely distracting.

Maybe I'm not anymore to him. He's been dealing with me for years.

Shrugging my shoulders, I can feel myself growing a little more agitated because I just want my tics to settle down before we get home. Of course it's backfiring.

"I don't know."

Brett slows down for my street, glancing out his window as he says "Is she going to be another Cora?"

Running through a couple tics, I look over at Brett. "What's that mean?"

"You're dense. She definitely liked you." Brett informs me.

I almost ask him why he didn't tell me sooner.

Cora and I hung out last year but it was because she needed help with music theory. She's got a great ear and no patience when it comes to learning the science of it all. We had fun and for a second I thought that maybe she might like me but then Peter asked her to prom and they started dating after.

It was fine.

But I mean really, I'm a lot to handle on my good days. I totally get it.

Brett pulls into my driveway and I take a deep breath to steady myself and stop my chaos so I don't completely scare Laurel. But it's nearly impossible especially because I've been fixated on the clock while Brett's been driving and my little stint of trying not to do my routine has made us later than usual and I feel all those thoughts start to infiltrate my mind.

Brett puts his car in park, I can feel him look at me as I try to regain some control. Five seconds in and I'm already uncomfortable but I've grown used to it. I feel like all I do is suppress in some way or another. If I'm not trying not to tic, I'm fighting compulsions or distractions.