Not The Only One

It’s always tricky being the only one. You can ask any kid who grew up left handed, with braces or in a foreign country and they’ll agree with me. Parents spurt well-intentioned lies about how it makes us unique and ‘special’. But it’s a much easier life when you don’t have to be special. When you don’t have to know and when you can tell your friends anything and everything because you don’t hold knowledge that could hurt them with a simple mention. Let me explain…

I’m the only one left. Legacies have been told and re-told, boring primary school history classes and dulling family dinner tables for decades. They speak as if it’s a fable, a far-off reality that doesn’t affect anyone. But they don’t know that it not only affects me, it is me. 

They’ll sit up on their podiums as if it’s highest horse in the stable and their tower is the most ivory of all. They speak as if those they speak about no longer exist, oblivious to the fact that the very last one is sitting right in front of them.

There’s really only one way to tell that it’s me. They teach that there’s multiple ways, like a list of symptoms to diagnose but it works more like a secret ingredient. Only one thing that truly signifies it. It’s means I live in an emotional paradox between never being able to be openly me and never wanting to be openly me. Neither option benefits either me or those around me. It’s a kind of absent pressure. Like an unwritten expectation to remain anonymous yet simultaneously to speak out for the sake of progress and historical education. Yet here it is. 

Years ago, well, in the same vain that one might say ‘the other day’ when you could’ve been referring to any time period previous to the current day; It was understood that biological advances were perfected. Not in a crazy fantasy-sci-fi kind of way but in a natural, phase out the issues kind of way. You could say that I’m the last broken human. The last imperfect one. Which, in stark irony, makes me a perfect specimen. It’s subtle which is why I’ve been able to slide under the radar this whole time. Usually you can tell based on a body part, a small physical thing, a tiny little giveaway. Could be something as simple as sticking out your tongue. So the easiest solution for me was to keep my mouth shut.

This was working plenty fine until two weeks ago. 

It was a Wednesday just like any other. The least special day of the week, I walked my normal route to high school. The least exciting place for any teenager. Or adults for that matter. I’m convinced that there’s not a single person in that building who genuinely wants to be there. Jason excluded. He’s the kind of person who would slam your locker closed as he walked past or greet you but make a point to show he forgot your name, as if remembering a most basic detail about other humans was too far below him. The most attention I’ve ever gotten from this guy was in our sixth-grade production. I was a door and you can bet I was the best damn door that shabby old stage had ever seen. And he, main character in the play of course, would walk through me. Both literally, I turned so he could enter the stage and figuratively, as if I didn’t exist.

‘Hey you’.

Shocked that he would acknowledge anyone in middle class yet comforted by the fact it’s taken me 17 years before I drew any moderate attention, I was both conscious of keeping my mouth shut yet innately aware that rejecting the interaction would draw worse attention. So I turned and mumbled ‘hey’. 

It was like this for a few days, simple glances back and forth. A couple of greetings but more the kind you’d greet a stranger with at the grocery store than anyone you actually intended to talk to again. I was clearing out my locker like I always do at the end of the week, and jumped as it got slammed right in front of me.

‘I think you know something’ he started.

‘I know plenty of things’

The side of his mouth curled in a way that was near impossible to tell if it was amusement or malice. 

‘You know something no one else knows’ 

Said as more of an accusation than a kind observation of my intelligence, I was irritated. Who does he think he is to start conversations with me? Nobody does that. What does he think I know? Nobody knows that.

‘The answer to question 4 on the algebra exam? Or the real reason barometric pressure matters? People can just google these things if they want to know them too.’

‘That’s not it.’

‘Well then it must be how much of a jackass you are. I know that for sure.’

I turned to head home as I hear shouted at my back:

‘That doesn’t count, everybody knows that!’

This puts me in a wild predicament because I do know something no one else knows. No way in a trillion years would I ever bring it up in conversation. That’s the thing about secrets; it’s only a secret until someone talks about it. All it takes is a few words, one topic of conversation, a simple sentence, an accidental slip of the tongue and it’s suddenly not a secret anymore. So it bugs me when people ask. Usually they’re not asking me but when I hear the buzzing cafeteria conversation, revealing knowledge that was previously unknown, my gut clenches. They love to know everything but I can assure you, life is so much easier when you don’t.

I had barely left my house for my early morning run when I was stopped in my driveway. I’d been taught to be cautious of people hanging around the house. Classic overprotective parents, so I was ready to stand my ground against whatever would happen. But it was Jason. Ignorant, popular, annoying, handsome, harmless Jason. Well, he was only harmless until he spoke.

‘I discovered one thing you don’t know.’ 

He was shyer now, almost timid but still stood his ground.

‘Ok, I’ll admit it’ I sigh. ‘I honestly still don’t understand barometric pressure, but who on earth can? The science is incorrigible’. 

We both laugh and it was a strange moment. Doing the same thing at the same time as somebody else, sharing something as simple as laughter. It was one step up from eye contact but I knew it still wasn’t much.

After saying he loved my laugh, he asked if he could take me out for breakfast. Shocked, I refused the offer and began my run. Problems ensued because he just started running alongside me. Little did I know the race we’d end up running together.

Turns out the stranger in my driveway wasn’t putting our house in danger, or jeopardising my own safety, but Jason meant that my heart needed defending and I wasn’t ready. The next few days all blurred together. They say that people just click and I never believed them because I’d never clicked with anyone. Not until now. I know I was enjoying myself in his company but I was determine not to smile too much. Just like always. It’s the opening of the mouth that always gets people into trouble. Especially me. 

Engaging in conversation but not saying much and smiling with my lips still touching was the only way I was getting through this. I didn’t know what his motive was or why the sudden interest in me. I knew I had to keep my guard up but for the first time in my life, someone really looked at me. And saw me. And I let him.

Most of the time we’re not even talking about anything. I figured his intro conversation was just a way to get the ball rolling, never would I imagine that he actually knew what I knew. Until one day when all it took was a slip of the tongue. 

The flash clicked and I felt giddy. When has anyone ever wanted a photo of me? Let alone a photo with me? Something to acknowledge that real connection had gone on here. That despite everything they teach us about community deteriorating, and knowing my condition and vulnerability, to even interact was huge. Thoughts fill my mind that maybe life could be normal for me. Maybe I wouldn’t have to hide and keep my mouth shut. The print develops and he holds it up as we both eagerly await to see our captured selves. 

My mouth can’t help but fall open as I realise what I’ve done. In the bliss of the moment I’ve smiled too big. A little too free, a little too comfortable and you can see it. My tell. My giveaway. Eyes fixed, refusing to look up for fear he’s noticed and unsure of what he would do, my gaze wavers and I see his captured self. Not too dissimilar to mine. Mouth open. His tell. My tell. I was told I was the only one. Flooded with disbelief and confusion, my stomach twisting with fear yet almost sprinkled with hope, I lift my head and lock eyes with him. My mouth drops to the floor as he opens his:

‘Can you keep a secret?’