She must not know I’m dealing with somethingincurablehere.
Can I even go to college? I don’t want to study business and sit in an office all day. MS has changed a lot about my future, including that I need to make the most of life. I’m not putting limitations on myself; it’s the opposite. If I’m going to have limited energy, I need to find something that feels incredibly worthwhile to do.
I need time to figure out what’s next for me. It’s for the best that I missed all the deadlines—something I never would’ve been able to see the bright side in several months ago. Still, I leave the meeting a mix of determined and overwhelmed. Both ready to take on the future and also to collapse in bed for several hours.
I planned on trying to see Ellie while here, but not now. As expected, Mom is waiting in the parking lot, and I tumble into the passenger seat without saying a word.
Then I feel the twitching in my legs again. Or maybe it never stopped? Am I only aware of it when I’m not moving?
Twitch, twitch, twitch.
I hang around at home all afternoon, waiting for Ellie to be done with classes for the day. After spending a few minutes researching online, trying to reconfigure my entire life to no avail, I close my laptop and take a nap, realizing my brain was too fatigued to do much of anything. When I wake up, I’m even more tired than I was before I went to sleep, so I take a second nap. After that I’m finally a bit refreshed and eager to eat. I also decide to do something that will turn my mood around, so I plan an outing for Ellie and me tonight.
It will be a movie night, because sedentary is the way to go at the moment, with open captions on the screen so that Ellie can enjoy it, too. We’ve been watching shows at her place with the closed captionson, and honestly, I don’t mind it. It’s helpful for scenes where there’s too much noise and very quiet dialogue.
I search all the movie theaters in our area, and almost none of them have any open-caption showings. One spot does, but only for a time on Wednesday at 2:00 p.m. Absurd.
I’ve just got to get on the phone to figure this out, I guess. No one answers at the first place I try, but I finally get ahold of someone at the Walnut Theater.
“Hey,” I say, “I see you’re playingHidden Spiestonight. Can we make one of those showtimes have open captions?”
“Uh,” the worker says on the other end. “Let me get my manager.”
Very obnoxious hold music blares in my ears until another voice chimes on. “So, we do have closed caption glasses that we offer.”
“No, I want them on the screen.” It shouldn’t be that difficult to have them the way they are when you turn them on the TV at home. I don’t want Ellie to have to wear something uncomfortable.
“We can’t do that.”
“Seriously? Why not?”
“It’s not an open-caption showing.”
“I understand that.” I grit my teeth. “How can we make it one? Can we pay or something?”
“You can rent out a theater.”
“The entire theater?”
“Yeah. Hmm, there’s a 4:37 spot that you could reserve.”
“Tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“And how much does that cost?”
“Uh, forHidden Spies, you said? The run time would bring it to three hundred twenty-seven dollars with tax.”
That’s one expensive date. “Fine, I’ll book it.”
“Sure,” the manager says, indifferent. “We need the card for a deposit.”
“One second.” I dig my credit card from my wallet. My parents let me spend within reason, and while this feels like price gouging for an accessible experience, it probably won’t raise too many red flags on the bank statement. If they ask, I’ll just say that Mom can stop buying organic strawberries for a few weeks to offset the cost. I read the manager the number. “And email me the confirmation, please.”
I really hope Ellie is still able to hang out tonight.
JACKSON:
