Temperance is seven years old, and everything is just too much .
She doesn't understand how nobody else is screaming inside. The television show her brother is watching is turned to its highest volume setting, and her father is talking loudly on the phone one room over. She can feel the rumbling of the washing machine churning in the basement below her even through the floor, and the sound it makes combined with the vibrations are causing her physical pain. It's hot outside, too hot outside, and so the AC unit is chugging away in the window, making a noise she can only describe as 'scratchy'. It barely affects the temperature inside, so her hair and clothing still stick to her skin. She feels like she needs to scream, to rip her skin apart from her body, to dunk her head in the bathtub full of cold water, anything to make all of it stop .
Russ laughs loudly at the cartoon playing on the TV, and it's over for her. It's all too much, it's too much, and she needs it to stop .
"Stop!" She screams, balling her tiny fists and hitting them against her head, trying to make everything stop. "Stop it!" She can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but sit there, on the living room floor, and scream until it's all over. She squeezes her eyes tight, trying to block out the too-bright overhead light, which unfortunately makes it impossible to see Russ reaching towards her.
She hears him speaking, hears her name, but can't process a word he's saying. She only feels his hand brush shoulder, and it hurts . It feels like fire on her skin, melting her flesh into her bones. There's only one thing she can think to do in her state of terror- she screams, and kicks, and punches, until he moves away from her, holding his shin that she kicked hard. She knows it's irrational to act this way. Teachers at school tell her she's too smart to be like this. Her father and brother are always frightened when she does it. Her mother is the only one who knows how to make her feel less scared, less overwhelmed, the only one who can make her stop screaming. The only one who can make it better. They know this by now. It's happened enough times, but Russ still panics.
"Mom!" His voice booms through the living room. Temperance shuts her hands over her ears tighter at the sound, trying to block it out. "Something's wrong with Temperance!"
Wrong . She sure understood that part. Something is wrong with her. She rocks harder, hits her head against the back of the couch, repeating the only word that can get through her head right now. "Wrong, wrong, wrong." There is something wrong .
She doesn't process her mother come rushing in. She doesn't notice her shuffling Russ out of the room, or turning off the television. Her eyes stay screwed shut, her hands stay tight over her ears, her body keeps rocking. Every bit of input is just registered as pain right now. Temperance stays like that for many more minutes- it could be ten, could be forty five- she doesn't know nor care. It isn't until she stops moving out of pure, unbridled exhaustion that she hears her mother's voice.
"Tempe-" her mother's voice is soothing. "Can you open your eyes for me?"
She shakes her head no. It's too bright, her head hurts too much. She can't do it. She feels more tears escape her eyes that are screwed shut, wipes at them harshly, and shakes her head no again. She hates crying.
But no matter how much of a scene Temperance makes, her mother is always gentle with her in times like these- always takes care of her, always makes sure she's safe. She asks her what she wants, even when Temperance can't tell her in the ways that other people expect her to.
Her mother speaks up again. "I'm gonna ask you some questions so I can get you safe, okay baby? Just tap my left hand for the first option, right for the second. Can you do that for me?"
Temperance nods her head yes.
"Okay. I know this room is hurting you right now, do you want to go to your bedroom or come sit in the kitchen?"
She taps her mother's left hand.
"Do you want to walk with me, or do you want me to carry you up there?"
Right hand. She's too tired, she doesn't care if it makes her feel like a baby.
"Okay. I'm gonna pick you up now, just let me know if you want me to set you down before we get there," Her mother explains calmly. Temperance likes when adults explain what they're doing and why- it makes her feel grown up, and it makes things more understandable. She doesn't like being confused, but she's frequently left that way.
She clings tightly onto her mother, and before she knows it, she's being set down in her own bed, the soft comforter and slightly more bearable air temperature a much appreciated change from the scratchy floral couch and hot, thick air. She can breathe again, and takes great pleasure in doing so. Her mother allows her to sit there and breathe for a few minutes, calming herself down before she speaks again.
"Do you want me to stay with you?" She asks, and of course Temperance nods her head yes. "Alright, my love. I'm just gonna turn the lights off, okay?"
Now, in the dim lighting, she can open her eyes. Her vision is blurred from the crying, and sparkly spots dance across it from how tight her eyes were shut combined with the hyperventilating. She continues to rock back and forth, holding a pillow tight to her chest, and her mother sits down beside her, allowing her to make herself feel more comfortable.
"I love you, Tempe. No matter what. You know that, right?" Christine asks, and Temperance nods her head.
"I want you to know that it's perfectly okay and normal to be the way you are, it doesn't matter what other people say. There is nothing wrong with you. Everything about you is absolutely, perfectly right. You were made perfectly right, baby." Her mother's words soothe her. Christine Brennan reaches her hand out for her daughter, but instead, Temperance climbs right into her lap. Her mother smiles, and pulls her tight into her chest. "You're everything to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you that the way you are is wrong."
Temperance nods once again, and her mother rocks the two of them back and forth. It's soothing, but the feeling is starting to come back.
Her neck. It hurts, her hair on her sticky skin is too much again. She pulls at her hair, trying to get it away from her skin, but only hurting it more. Before the tears start to come back, her mother gently pulls her hair out from her hands, holding it away from her sensitive skin.
"Does it bother you on your neck?" Her mother asks. She nods, and Christine smiles. "So does mine. Do you want me to braid it? It'll keep it from sticking to your skin in this heat. I know you like it long, even if it annoys you."
"Please," Temperance whispers quietly. It's the first word she's been able to say since earlier that afternoon. Her mother sets her down on the floor in front of her, Temperance's head between her knees, and begins to braid. She likes the feeling of her mother's hands in her hair, likes how it allows her skin to breathe. When the braid is done, she runs her fingers over it. Her mother pulls her back up onto the bed, and that's how the two of them fall asleep. Christine Brennan holding her small, exhausted daughter, and Temperance playing with her newly braided hair. She feels loved. Cared for. Safe.
---
Temperance is in fifth grade now, and she's fairly certain that she's never been more excited in her life.
In her science class, they're playing a game to memorize the skeletal system- they've just started learning about it this year, and Temperance is absolutely fascinated. She made a point of taking out every book in the library she could find about it, and has memorized every bone she can. Her peers only know the general terms that they've learned in class- skull, spine, and even some more crude terms, like "foot bones". But to Temperance, it's fascinating- she knows all about the occipital bone and the hyoid and the metatarsals . She knows how it all looks, how they all work together to form the base of the body. Much unlike her team of her grade five peers is doing right now, as they have decided to let her answer every question their teacher asks. Not that she has a problem with that.
She answers the final question- How many bones are in the human skeleton? - with ease. "There are 206 bones in the average adult body, or 300 for a baby. Though those numbers can change due to extra fingers and toes, prematurely fused bones, birth defects, or-"
"Thank you, Temperance. I was only looking for the first number you gave, though your knowledge is impressive!" The teacher interrupts, just as she's getting to the most interesting part. People do that to her a lot. She doesn't really know why.
As their game is over, the teacher reveals the scoreboard, points written in coloured chalk- 100 points for the other team, team A, and 270 points for hers.
Temperance is overjoyed by this- she knew they would win, but the visible proof of her knowledge is overwhelmingly exciting, to the point where she can't keep it inside anymore. She jumps up and down, spinning and flapping her hands in the same way she always does when something excites her. The motions make her even happier- she does it all the time at home, but she noticed pretty early on that the other kids she knows don't do it at school either. She figures it's simply something that is reserved for home in their cases as well, but she thinks can make an exception for this. It isn't every day you win the Friday afternoon science game.
But as she stops, she can feel 56 eyes of her 28 peers all fixed upon her. Their gazes burn into her, and her face reddens as the world begins to spin, and not just from her dizziness after all the spinning. She knows she's done something wrong, but she can't figure out what it is. She was just having fun.
"Spaz," the shout comes from across the classroom, from someone she can't see. She's never been called that name before, but it sounds bad. Her embarrassment doubles as she hears the choruses of her classmates' laughter once he spits the name at her.
She looks to her teacher for help, tears of embarrassment in her eyes, but the teacher is as useless as anyone else is in these situations, and simply turns away, changing the subject. Later, once the bell has rung and all of her peers have rushed out of the classroom, the teacher pulls Temperance aside and says that the other kids make fun of her because she's different, and that if she tones it down, it won't happen again.
It does.
It's a sunny afternoon, and her class is out at recess, and the popular girls in her class have resorted to their usual name calling. It usually doesn't bother her- she's learned to walk away, ignore it, stick her nose in a book to block them out. But today, she's tired of it, and they're being especially cruel.
"She's such a freak- she doesn't even notice us talking. We're just trying to help you, Tempe! Maybe if you listened to us you'd have some more friends," Amanda, the ringleader of the group says, popping her gum in her mouth while she talks. Temperance knows they're lying. They aren't trying to help, and that's why the other girls laugh so hard. She doesn't know why people say things like that when they mean the opposite
"Leave me alone," She mumbles, and they laugh even harder. Another girl, Tabitha, speaks up, twirling her long brown hair between her fingers
"Maybe she doesn't want friends. She thinks she's better than all of us because she thinks she's so smart, but did you see her that one time in science? She's probably retarded. She's just hiding it behind those glasses and those big books. Isn't that right, Tempe?"
The girls laugh again, and it's high pitched and louder than before. When Temperance tries to walk away, Tabitha shoves her, and that's enough.
She punches the brunette square in the jaw, leaving her to fall on the pavement, and she runs.
Of course, the principal finds her, hiding behind a bush, rocking and running her hands through her hair. Tabitha, the girl she punched, is sitting in the office holding an ice pack to her face when Temperance is dragged in, still crying and sniffling.
"Psycho," she mumbles as Temperance passes her, and if she wasn't being held onto by the principal, Temperance would hit her again. Harder this time. She might even laugh.
She gets suspended for four days. When she hears she'll have to miss that much class, Temperance has a panic attack so bad that her father considers taking her to the hospital.
In those four days, Temperance buys some hair ties and trains herself to snap them against her wrist instead of flapping her arms and rocking. She studies how the other kids stand, and practices in the full length mirror in her parents room. And she gets rid of those thick glasses of hers. The teachers will understand when she asks to be moved closer to the front.
She may not understand why the other kids make fun of how she speaks, and moves, and acts. But she does know that under her watch, it'll never happen again. She can learn anything, including this.
---
Temperance is fifteen years old when her parents leave her. No family left but her brother. Completely, utterly alone in the world, if not for him. She doesn't think he'll leave her too.
But she's just two weeks older than that when he abandons her before she's even woken up in the morning. Social services come to pick her up two days later, when they finally figure out that she's been living alone, in secret. When they ask her what's happened, when they press for details, she opens her mouth, but not a single word comes out. The sentences form perfectly in her head- but not a single noise will come out of her throat. They hand her a piece of paper and ask her to write down what happened. She figures, from this, that she's not the first person to react this way.
They place her in an emergency group home for eleven days. It's just after Christmas when Russ walks out, meaning there aren't a lot of families willing to take her in. Even less so when they see that she's fifteen. She learns pretty quickly that most people want young, cute children. Not fifteen year old know-it-alls who, despite having no medical conditions affecting the vocal cords, have completely lost the ability to speak. Clearly, Temperance is angry with herself for her current predicament.
Nobody at the group home cares that she doesn't say a word. She spends almost the entire time alone in her room, protecting her two suitcases that the social worker at her door gave her time to pack. She doesn't try to connect with anyone- she already knows it won't work. She doesn't do a whole lot of connecting with anyone anymore. She doesn't do a whole lot of anything anymore- she finds it impossible to even read more than a few pages of a book before she gets distracted, and she can't leave without express permission that she can't even ask for. She spends the majority of the eleven days staring at the wall, rocking away while holding the sweater she took from her mother's closet tight to her chest. A few times, she wonders if her mother will be angry when she comes back and it's missing, but even then, some part of her knows deep down that her mother is not coming home.
On January 7, a placement opens up for her. She doesn't know anything about the family other than what her social worker tells her in the car on the way there, which isn't much.
"They have one child- a son- but he's away in college right now. So it'll be a lot quieter than the group home, which I'm sure will be a delight," The social worker- Miss Woodard, if Temperance remembers correctly- tells her.
She doesn't know what's supposed to be so delightful about complete silence in a home with people who are not her parents, but Temperance nods anyway. She still isn't speaking. Miss Woodard sighs, a strand of her clearly box-dyed red hair fluttering in front of her face as she does so.
"You have to talk sometime, Temperance. You need to open up for people to get to know you. I hate to say it, but if you don't allow people to know you, most foster families don't work out," The woman explains. Temperance finds that she wishes to strike her, or jump from the moving car, but instead, she stares out of the passenger seat window, ignoring the woman to instead watch two raindrops run down the glass. Her and Russ used to pretend that they were racing- she misses that.
Temperance knows already that not a lot of things are going to work out from now on.
She meets her new foster parents- Lisa and Ian Rodgers, they introduce themselves as- twenty five minutes after her initial decision to ignore Miss Woodard. They seem like nice enough people- Lisa is overly peppy with a voice that rings around a little in Temperance's head, and Ian has a smile that she can already tell isn't genuine. But when Miss Woodard explains that it's been nearly two weeks since Temperance even spoke a word, they say that they understand.
And they do understand, for a while.
It feels lonely to Temperance, not speaking. She didn't talk much before- sometimes, her only communication throughout the school day would be shouting polo to Russ in the halls. But she still misses that. It isn't like she doesn't try. But she just can't - she knows she can't. Lisa and Ian initially allow her to communicate with them by writing notes, or by nodding and shaking her head.
The students at her new school are not so understanding.
She's been with the Rodgers' for five weeks, and attending Lakewood High for nearly the same amount of time. She misses her old classes and teachers, but she's gotten used to the constant taunts from her peers- just earlier that day, she'd been tripped in the lunch line, dropping her food everywhere. By now, on the bus ride, she's starving and frustrated, and just wants to go to the library for a few hours. She should have known that the kids on her bus wouldn't let the bullying just end at school.
"I'm pretty sure she's a sociopath," She hears one of the girls in the seat behind her whisper not-so-quietly to her best friend. She notes, in her head, that they're clearly unaware of the meaning of the word. But it keeps going, despite the girl's misuse of the term.
"Are you sure she isn't just retarded?" The other girl responds, and they both giggle. Temperance feels the anger rise up once again, the same anger that made her knock out Tabitha Logan's left lateral incisor in the fifth grade. A girl from the row beside the bullies butts in, speaking loud enough that Temperance knows she's making sure she can hear her.
"She's probably just crazy. No wonder she's a foster kid, I'd give my kid up too if they acted like that," The three blonde girls laugh, and so do a few of the surrounding kids. Temperance feels the sense of panic and anger start to rise up, and chooses to get off at the next stop, despite it being a half hour walk from Lisa and Ian's house. She's sure being late will get her in a lot less trouble than breaking someone's nose on the bus.
She just wants to go to the library, but knows she can't go without permission, so she steps in briefly, just to hang up her coat and ask Lisa, who she knows will be home this time of day.
Lisa is in the living room, watching a television show. Temperance pulls out her notepad, writing in her neatest scrawl- Is it okay if I go to the library? - and sets it down on the coffee table. Nearly a minute and a half later, Lisa still hasn't responded, or even looked at the note. Temperance taps her shoulder again and points at the note once again.
Lisa sighs, and rolls her eyes. Temperance has learned, from watching, that this means people are frustrated with her- she usually gets this when she misunderstands someone's tone, or when she needs a joke explained to her. She hasn't often gotten it for asking a simple question, which leaves her confused. Lisa grabs the note of the table and tears it in two. When she turns to her, Lisa's fists are clenched and she's glaring. Temperance is confused, and slightly hurt. Why is Lisa angry with her?
"You-" Lisa points a finger at Temperance. "Can go when you ask properly. Speak," she says. "I know you can."
Temperance shakes her head- she can't. She doesn't know why, but she can't. It hurts. What did she do wrong?
Lisa sighs, shaking her head. "I spoke to your social worker more than once- there's nothing wrong with you, so talk. Why are you being difficult with me?"
Temperance's hands start to shake, and she swallows hard- she doesn't know what to do. She's so tired, and frustrated, and she doesn't know why she can't talk. She knows it's bothering her a hell of a lot more than it is Lisa, so she doesn't understand why she's the one getting shouted at.
"Are you a fucking dog? I said speak!" Lisa chastises, and Brennan has reached her limit. It's all too much again. She starts humming, flapping her hands and pacing the room, trying desperately to calm herself down so she doesn't freak out at someone again. It's all too much, she can't do it, she just needs to-
A loud crack rings out as she falls to the floor, a throbbing ache in her jaw. She doesn't know whether to cry, hide, run. She's shocked- her hands fly to her face, and she tries to catch her breath. Her real parents have never hit her before.
Within the week, Temperance is back in Miss Woodard's passenger seat, on her way to meet a new set of foster parents. She doesn't listen to the redheaded woman as she tells her the basics of this new family, too busy thinking about the cruel words Lisa had spoken to her.
Are you a fucking dog? It plays through her mind like a broken record. No , she thinks. At least a dog is lovable. At least you don't send a puppy away for wanting to bite.
---
Brennan is seventeen when she gets asked on her first date. Lucas Bowen, a boy from her AP Chemistry class, approaches her at her locker and asks her to attend some new movie with him. She doesn't recognize the title, but she agrees, because she finds him fairly attractive and he's tolerable to be around. He's been fairly nice to her, unlike some of the other boys in her classes.
Temperance doesn't know what to expect on a date- she doesn't know what to wear, or how she should act, or how early she should show up. There's no written set of rules for things like this. Luckily enough, her foster sister, who is two years older than her, helps her dress nicely in a lacy top and a borrowed pair of jeans, and even does her makeup for her when her hands start to shake.
"Beautiful," the girl says as she turns Temperance to face the mirror. "That boy won't be able to keep his hands off you."
She had appreciated the compliment at the time, but forty minutes into the movie, she's overstimulated enough that she thinks that if Lucas were to even think about putting his hands on her, she might break them.
It's been quite a few years, and she's forgotten how much she hates movie theatres. This one in particular is extremely overwhelming, with sticky floors and chatting moviegoers, and Temperance can't wait until she's allowed to leave.
Lucas has been nice enough to her- he'd picked her up, and bought her what he remembered was her favourite type of candy, even helping her to sneak it into the theatre- but there's too much going on for her to even think about romance right now.
The movie is too loud and not even interesting- it's just explosion sound after explosion sound, and with each loud jumpscare, Temperance can taste bile crawling up her throat. The flashing lights are hurting her eyes, and the one time she tried to close them, Lucas asked if she had fallen asleep, which embarrassed her enough that she didn't try again. The theatre is hot and far too crowded- full to the brim. When she commented on this during the previews, Lucas told her that it was because it's such an incredible movie- but Temperance thinks it would be a whole lot more incredible if the man in the seat to her right would take his elbow off her armrest. But Temperance wants to tough this one out- she desperately wants Lucas to like her. He tells her that she's pretty, that she's more interesting than the other girls he knows. She likes the attention he gives her- positive attention from her peers hasn't been a main theme in Temperance's life. She can do this for him.
But some things like that don't change. Halfway through the movie, during a loud and bright scene that is already bothering her, Lucas wraps an arm around her shoulder, disguising it as a yawn in an attempt to flirt with her. But touch feels like a burn to her skin, and she makes a pained yelp- and once again, everything is just too much . This time, she can't fight, but she sure can sure as hell run.
And so, she bolts from the theatre before Lucas can even comment on the noise she made.
He finds her in the movie theatre lobby, pacing, hands over her ears and eyes screwed shut tight. He thinks he can hear her counting quietly- she doesn't notice or acknowledge his presence, even when he asks her what's wrong.
She thinks that his first mistake of the night was bringing her here. His second was wrapping an arm around her. His third, but not final, mistake of the night, is reaching out and grabbing her arm, trying to make him stop and look at her.
"Don't fucking touch me!" She shouts, and before she can even think about what she's doing, he's hitting the floor, and her arms are outstretched. She shoved him. He huffs a breath through his nose, and widens his eyes. He looks angry.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He shouts, and as he pulls himself up, he moves closer towards her. She jumps back, not wanting him to come nearer- she keeps moving until her back is pressed against the movie theatre lobby wall, and her arms are covering her face. Protecting her. Lucas just laughs- but it isn't a good laugh. She knows the difference between a happy and an angry laugh now- she's had to, over the past few years.
"Please don't touch me-" She pleads, but he just rolls his eyes and keeps going. She shrinks back, into the wall, protecting her body with her own hands. But he doesn't hit her. What he really does, might be even worse. It'll sure hurt for a lot longer than a punch in the head.
"You wonder why nobody fucking likes you Temperance?" He's getting louder with each word. "This is why! You're a fucking spaz, and everyone who meets you thinks that you're a freak. That's why nobody likes you. I only even asked you out because I thought you were hot- but you won't even let me touch you? You're a fucking psycho. I'm glad I realized that before I wasted more time on you," Lucas spits the words at her like poison, and her face falls. "Go fuck yourself, Temperance."
He storms out the door, and she's sitting there, alone once again.
When her foster mother picks her up, she's been sitting on the stairs outside the movie theatre crying for nearly half an hour.
Her foster mother, Kiersten, asks what's wrong. Temperance just shakes her head. She can't speak again- it doesn't even surprise her at this point. Just makes her feel alone again. When Kiersten reaches out for her hand and Temperance pulls away, she remembers once again what Lucas said to her. Hot tears run down her face, like racing raindrops, and she digs her nails into her hands to try to keep from making any noise. She knows that nobody likes her. She just doesn't understand why.
---
She's twenty three years old, speaking to her roommate, when she figures it out.
Temperance is dozing off on the couch in their living room while attempting to go over some history notes- falling asleep like this isn't something she makes a habit of unless she's sick, so it piques her roommate, Mia's, attention.
"Are you alright?" Mia asks, and even in her half-asleep state, Temperance can detect the concern present in her voice. She jumps back awake at the sudden noise, standing up to try and keep herself from falling asleep again.
"I'm fine-" She explains. "I just didn't sleep last night. I'm tired now."
Mia looks at her like she's crazy- though, Temperance has mostly gotten used to that by now.
"Like, at all? Honey, why? You've been going to classes all day, you should have said something if you weren't feeling well," She dotes.
Mia is always nice to her. Temperance was nervous, at first, about having a roommate. Not that she'd never had one before, or that she wasn't used to sharing a living space with people she doesn't know. But it hadn't gone well most of the time, as evident from the six foster homes in the three years of her CPS file. Mia, however, understands Temperance. She never judges her for the way she acts, just treats her with a kind of compassion that she never expected from someone who started out as a complete stranger.
Temperance laughs quietly. "I'm feeling fine- just exhausted. It was too cold to sleep last night, but all the blankets felt too scratchy to touch, and it was hurting me. I just studied and tried to ignore it instead. I'll be fine tonight, I'm sure."
Most people get confused when she says things like this. She doesn't know why it's different for her- what other people mean when they say that certain fabrics don't hurt, that the lights don't make their eyes ache, that talking more than usual can exhaust them enough that they need to spend the next 24 hours communicating on paper. She's assumed it's the same way for everyone, but that other people are just better at hiding it.
Mia, however, has a different idea.
"Tempe, honey, don't take this the wrong way-" She starts, and Temperance is already nervous. Sentences that start like that usually aren't good.
Mia takes a deep breath before finishing. "Have you considered that you might be autistic?"
No , she thinks. She most definitely has not . Temperance furrows her brow at her roommate, trying to think it over. Autistic? Temperance? Wouldn't somebody have noticed earlier?
"Why do you think that?" She asks. She genuinely wants to know- nobody had ever even thought about it for her. She was always just weird .
Mia smiles at her. "I say this all in the nicest way possible, honey," She explains, and Temperance smiles back. She doesn't know if Mia could do anything that wasn't in the nicest way possible. "But you are the poster child for autism in girls."
Temperance cocks her head, but her roommate just continues.
"You don't really get things that aren't literal, especially jokes and sarcasm. You've said it yourself that personal conversation isn't your strong suit. You hate certain textures enough that you are willing to stay up for 36 hours straight because of it, which, by the way, we are going out and buying you new blankets to put a stop to that, and we have about twelve lamps in this apartment because the overhead lights are too overwhelming. Tempe, I've seen you get so stressed out that you couldn't speak for three days ."
Temperance blinks, trying to put the pieces together in her head. All of those things she's been bullied for her entire life... could be something real ?
"Continue," She requests, and Mia smiles.
"You told me that when you were a kid, you'd get called sensitive or dramatic a lot, because of how you reacted to things. And about how it was hard for you to make friends, even though on paper, you should have fit in with any of the other girls, and so you didn't understand why they were so unkind to you. And I've seen how you act when you're excited- the spinning, the hand flapping, all of it. Especially when you think nobody's looking. You don't have to hide any of that, by the way," She adds. "I like seeing that you're happy."
"You noticed?" Temperance asks, and Mia chuckles.
"A few times. It's beautiful, honey. You don't have to pretend to be something you aren't."
Temperance looks down at the floor, bouncing on her toes a few times. The way Mia doesn't treat her any differently makes her happy. She thinks over what she's just been told, and wonders how nobody else noticed in the past twenty three years.
"How do you know about all of this?" She asks. Temperance considers herself a very smart person- a genius at that. But she didn't know anything about this stuff until just a few minutes prior. She's never been told anything about autism- and now, she realizes, all of her preconceived notions of it were based on stereotypes and a lack of research. It makes her feel slightly guilty.
But Mia doesn't mind teaching her. "My older sister. She didn't get diagnosed until a few months ago- none of us really noticed until it was explained to us. Everyone always thought she was just quirky, and maybe a little oversensitive. But autism presents differently in girls- doctors just don't care to do the research about it," She explains. "I could give you her number, if you'd like."
"I think I would appreciate that a lot."
Over the next four months, Temperance speaks with Mia's sister, Amber, quite a few times. The two meet up for lunch twice, and everything starts to make sense. Temperance researches meticulously, taking out so many library books on the subject that one of the librarians asks if she's switched her major to psychology. She wrinkles her nose at her, because of course she didn't, and goes back to her reading.
After four months of trying to understand herself, Temperance finally accepts it. She isn't a freak, she isn't just too sensitive , she's autistic. Everything about her is perfectly right, even if other people don't see that. It feels nice to understand herself.
---
Temperance has known Angela for a little over a month, and she's already decided that she's the best friend she's ever had.
Angela doesn't treat her like she's weird, or stare at her for acting differently. Angela has never made fun of her "robot voice" (as cruel teenagers used to call it), has never teased her or made a big deal of it when she needs jokes explained to her. In fact, she celebrates all of these things- she tells Brennan that she's one of the nicest and most interesting people she's met, and that she appreciates that she doesn't try to be something she isn't. When Brennan explains to her one night that she's autistic, Angela hugs her and thanks her for putting enough trust in her to tell her. Temperance feels safe when she's with her. She knows Angela isn't gonna turn her back on her for being different. She's a little odd herself, and Brennan feels happy knowing that she has a real best friend, for the first time in her life.
But at 9:30 PM, when she isn't expecting anyone over, Angela's signature knock on her apartment door has her fairly confused as she drags herself over from her spot on the couch.
"Ange?" She asks as she opens the door, confused as to why the younger woman is here so late, but Angela rushes in without even saying hello. Temperance can see how excited she is, and while she doesn't understand why Angela is buzzing around her apartment at 9:30 at night, she is certainly happy to see her.
"I'm sorry to come without calling first, I know I should have, but I got amazing news and I wanted to share it with you in person and-" Angela rambles, and Temperance laughs.
"Just spit it out, Angela. You don't have to apologize. I'm always happy to see you."
Angela takes a deep breath, and smiles that signature toothy, Angela grin that makes Temperance's heart flutter just a little. She ignores that part.
"I got the job. At the Jeffersonian," Angela finally says, and before Brennan even knows what she's doing, she throws her arms around her best friend in a big hug. Angela hugs her back- tightly, as she's figured by now that it's more comfortable for her friend- and they stay like that for nearly 30 seconds before saying anything.
When they pull apart, Brennan can't help but express how happy she is. "Ange, I'm so excited, I don't even know what to say, I just-"
And she feels safe with Angela, and she's so happy, so she does the things that got her made fun of as a child. She jumps up and down, and twists around, and Angela just smiles and laughs softly- she laughs with her, not at her- because that's just the kind of friend she is.
The two eventually stop to catch their breath, and a wave of embarrassment and anxiety washes over Brennan. People don't like when she does that- she knows that Angela was smiling, but sometimes, people lie to her in that way. They pretend that they like her, and what she's doing, just to make fun of her later.
"I'm sorry-" She starts, but Angela cuts her off.
"That was the cutest thing I've ever seen," Angela breathes out, and Brennan feels her face heat up. She's never been told that before- especially not when she isn't trying very hard to act neurotypical. Hers and Angela's gazes meet- Temperance is slightly confused, still smiling and trying to catch her breath, but Angela just smiles wide at her, before asking the least expected thing of the situation, in a signature Angela move.
"Can I kiss you?"
Oh. She's never thought about kissing Angela before.
But she sure is thinking about it now.
"Yes. Please," She responds breathily, and Angela leans in. The kiss is nice- Brennan feels safe. Happy. Angela is beautiful, and she's kind to her, and she treats her well. She's her best friend.
Brennan thinks that she'd like Angela to be more than that.
When Angela pulls away, Brennan can't help but flap her hands up and down again. Angela hums softly, and presses a kiss to her temple.
"You're the cutest person I've ever met," Angela confesses, and Brennan laughs. The heat returns to her cheeks and the tips of her ears, and she looks down at the floor. But Angela hooks a finger under her chin and tilts her head back up to look at her- it makes something stir inside of Temperance, and yes, she definitely wants Angela to be more than her best friend.
"It's true," Angela whispers, once they're making eye contact. "You're beautiful. Just look at you."
Brennan laughs nervously. "I find that I'm feeling slightly embarrassed," She admits, and Angela looks at her with concern. "But in a nice way. I like that you can see me. I trust you."
Tears well up in Angela's eyes, and Temperance doesn't quite understand why, but she finds that she would like to kiss her again, and so she does. Angela pulls away after a few seconds, and their eyes meet.
"I love you, Bren," She confesses, and Temperance has never felt more sure of how to respond in her life.
"I love you too. I'm happy I met you."
Angela pulls her in tight, wiping the tears that have begun to spill down her own cheeks. The two bask in the comfortable silence for a while, simply holding each other, and for the first time in Temperance's life, she feels like she has a home.
---
Her and Angela have been happily together since that first night they kissed, almost two years now. They've lived together full time for one of those years, and after stressful days like this, Temperance is incredibly glad to have someone to come home to.
The case was a hard one this week. It hit more than a little too close to home for both of them- the victim was fifteen, had newly entered foster care after the deaths of both of her parents. The rest of the lab walked on eggshells around the couple, who were clearly distressed by it- but both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, Angela more so than Brennan. Temperance had always managed to compartmentalize, but Angela was angry, and sad, and everyone noticed that she held onto her girlfriend just a little tighter the whole week.
"I can't stop thinking about how that could have been you," Angela confesses on the way home, after the last day of the case, and finally, Temperance allows the emotions to escape. Everything just comes rushing back in- the fear she felt those first few months after her parents left, the anger that she felt for the whole three years. That anger and fear that still festered somewhere deep inside her, threatening to boil over any minute.
"It wasn't me, though," Brennan responds, trying to keep her cool, but no matter how hard she tries Angela can hear it in her voice that she's upset. And she can never hold back once Angela knows how she's feeling. It's like the dam breaks the second Angela gives her those eyes.
And Angela does give her them, and within seconds Temperance can't stop herself from crying despite the fact that they're in the car and only halfway home. She hates crying in front of people- Angela has seen it more than enough times, but that doesn't make it less embarrassing. Angela offers her hand out over the console, not knowing if her girlfriend will take it or not, but when Temperance links their pinkies together, she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"I'm sorry-" Temperance tries to say. "I don't- I-" It's clear she's stressed enough that she's struggling to get any words out, and Angela just squeezes her hand tight, causing Temperance to sigh.
"No apologies, honey. You never have to speak if it's easier not to. I understand, okay? Just breathe with me. We'll be home in five minutes, and we can wind down there," Angela's voice soothes her, and Brennan immediately seems to become calmer. Angela knows how hard she tries, pushing herself to the limit constantly. Sometimes, even if she doesn't realize it, she just needs to be taken care of. She accepts it, this time, knowing by now that there's no use fighting with Angela, who is usually right about these kinds of things. As much as Brennan hates being wrong, Angela being right about things does frequently still work out in her favour.
As promised by Angela, they pull into the parking lot exactly five minutes later, walking hand in hand to the elevator, into their shared apartment. They change into comfier clothing in silence, and when Angela heads to the living room, Temperance follows.
"Can I touch you?" Angela asks, once they're sitting on the couch. She's learned how important it is to ask, even just to hold her hand, especially when her girlfriend is overwhelmed. She didn't quite get it at first, but she's so much happier to know 100% that the other woman is okay with everything happening.
But instead of answering her, Temperance climbs over the cushions and blankets on the couch, right into Angela's lap. It isn't often that they cuddle like this- but the two of them are always happy to indulge in each other's clingier sides. Angela pulls her lover in tighter to her chest, causing Brennan to smile into the crook of her neck. Angela softly runs her hands through Brennan's hair, working out all of the stress of her tightly pulled ponytail from work. Her girlfriend lets out small sighs every few minutes, and the two of them sit in silence until Temperance reaches for the notepad she keeps on the coffee table. It was Angela's idea to keep them around the apartment- there were a few too many instances of them scrambling around for something to write with before Angela just went and bought a 6 pack of coloured notebooks, leaving them around every room in the apartment.
Can you braid my hair? The note reads, and Angela laughs softly.
"C'mere, sit between my legs. Of course I can." Angela says, patting the space between her knees. Brennan sits on the floor, in front of her, and Angela gets to work.
It reminds Temperance of how her mother used to braid her hair whenever days like this happened- only Angela is far more skilled when it comes to hair, twisting her locks into french and dutch braids, while her mother only knew how to do a simple three strand braid. The sentiment is the same though- someone is doing something that comforts her, simply because they love her.
She dozes off that way, leaning against the couch cushion between her girlfriend's knees. And she feels loved. Cared for. Safe.