Page 17 of Finding Parker

“Crab. Lobster, crab, and shrimp. Oh my God, it was so good,” Katelyn said as she reached for a glass of tea.

If she says ‘oh my God’ or ‘it was so good’ again, I may vomit.

“It’s peach tea. Karen made it this afternoon. I enjoy it. Tell me what you think, Katelyn,” Kenton said, winking in my direction as Kaelyn raised the glass to her mouth.

As Katelyn lowered the glass onto the table, she smiled.

“Oh my God,” she said, licking her lips, “it is so good.”

As the bile rose in my throat, I was grateful that we had eaten seafood for dinner, and not Mexican food. I felt somewhat embarrassed about Katelyn’s immature behavior and repeated responses to Kenton’s questions. I glanced at my watch. 8:35.

This night couldn’t end quickly enough.

I had not devoted much time to dating women compared to most men, I was certain. I began to realize why as Katelyn babbled. As she continued to speak, I realized her voice was becoming more and more distant. Muffled. I was doing with her what I used to do with Mrs. Best in third grade.

I was ignoring her; building a mental dam of sorts. It prevented her voice, ideas, or opinions from littering my mind. The act of mentally eliminating her from existence was all but second nature to me.

Mrs. Best was my teacher in third grade. Her voice was annoying, her opinions weren’t worth hearing, and her statements regarding most anything were inaccurate at best. I learned to block her voice from being heard, and as I perfected the process, I often found myself in trouble. Once, to my surprise, I had blocked out an entire hour of her class. At the end of class, she called on me to respond to a question she had asked. I didn’t even realize she was speaking at all until another student nudged me, bringing me out of my semi-comatose state.

“Parker. You weren’t paying attention. You were drooling,” Mrs. Best said.

All of the children in the class snickered and laughed.

I raised my hand to my lip.

Dry.

“I was paying attention,” I responded as I lowered my hand to the desk, frustrated she tried to embarrass me.

“What was the discussion?” Mrs. Best asked as she glanced at the clock.

I looked at the clock. I had blocked out the entire one hour class. Only three minutes remained. I glanced to my left. Jessica looked at me and smiled as she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Synonyms, antonyms, and homonyms,” Jessica whispered.

“Synonyms, antonyms, and homonyms,” I looked around the room as I responded.

“Impressive. Can you explain to the class the differences between them?” Mrs. Best asked.

Knowing there wasn’t another kid in the class that could answer this question accurately; I thought of what my grandmother had taught me in the countless hours of studying at home.

“A synonym is a word which means the same thing as another word. Laugh and giggle. An antonym is a word that is the opposite of another word. Big and small. And a homonym is a word that sounds like another word but means something different,” I paused and thought for a moment.

I looked at Mrs. Best and smiled, “I went to the store. Two plus two is four.”

As Mrs. Best looked at me in disbelief, the buzzer sounded, ending class. As I stood from my chair and gathered my books, I looked at Jessica and smiled. As she smiled in return I felt warmth inside my chest. Jessica was nice and her hair reflected the sun instead of absorbing it. Throughout middle school, I liked that about her.

“Isn’t that right, Parker?” Kenton’s voice was barely audible.

I blinked my eyes and glanced at my watch. 9:05. I had lost thirty minutes. I processed what Kenton had asked and thought of a safe response.

“Absolutely,” I chimed, smiling.

I turned toward Katelyn, wondering what she and Kenton had talked about for thirty minutes. Her hair absorbed every bit of light from the patio. A dull, dirty ball of asymmetrical blackness atop her head, she looked my direction and smiled.

Unlike when Jessica smiled at me in school, I didn’t feel the warmth inside. I didn’t feel that her smile offered me something to look forward to. In fact, it had, in a short time, become irritating. I focused on her once beautiful eyes.

I felt cold inside.