The Worldbreaker Statement
What do you think? /I… I simply cannot say Rune./ What do you mean you cannot say? You know, and you don’t wanna say it, or you simply don’t know?
While Verde mentally pauses I fold my laundry in rectangles. I like rectangles. They’re pretty. /I mean that while he has gone through situations like these before, he has never quite had the same attachment to another person./
I fold a particular pair of jeans that have gone stiff. Hmm, too much detergent perhaps? Really, no other person? /There was one../ Who? /Nicholas Flamel./ I stop folding my laundry. How– /Do not ask me. If you want the specifics of that conversation, ask either Perenelle or Hermann./
Feeling somewhat chastened, I restart my routine, losing myself in the movements. I fold each piece of clothing four times, and put them in a large cloth bag before I take them to my room, where I put underwear in one drawer, jeans in another, t-shirts in one and thicker sweaters in another. I pat the bureau and sigh, contently.
Of course I realize what I am doing. I am stalling, because I am afraid that he’ll say no. And if he says no…. Me and Hermann rarerly fight. Sure, there was that time last fall when I got drunk and followed Nevena home, but other than that? I can’t remember the previous time. But this, this question I am about to ask him have the potential to fragment our relation. In one way I want it, because what I am about to ask is a neccessary step in growing up, but at the same time I am deadly afraid.
I plonk my butt down in my chair and fire my computer up. I have done my research.Dependency and depression are two things that haunt people like me, people with Aspergers. Dependency because the stress of having to masquerade as a normal person means that you don’t have the energy to cook, make your laundry, to take care of yourself unless pushed. Depression, because while some people with Aspergers are dense, many of us are quite intelligent enough to realize what exactly it is that we’re missing, the things we lack.
Just thinking about it makes my heartrate speed up. The pull on magic from Verde intensifies momentarily before I manage to regulate it to normal limits- good thing- I don’t want to crush my desk. No, Hermann have to say yes. My life depends on it.
But what if? What if he doesn’t, a small nagging voice mutters in the dark reccesses of my mind. I open a document and create a bullet list. I put on some classical music and I start to write. Time passes. Maybe an hour. Maybe ten minutes. I am interrupted as Hermann proclaims that the food is done.
I run up, and we eat. As the dinner progresses, I look at Hermann, and I think to myself ‘how am I going to survive without you’. Too transparent to ever hide anything, Hermann asks me what is wrong. And I lie, and I lie my heart out. I tell him that I ate too big a bar of chocolate yesterday. He tells me ‘I told you so’. I nod, finish my meal, and retreat down to my room with as much speed as socially acceptable.
I open my computer yet again and stare at the list I have made. I pull the cursor over it, highlighting it in blue. Rightclick. My finger hover above ‘delete’. /Are you certain that this is what you want?/ But that’s just the thing, Verde, I am not certain about anything anymore. It feels as if I don’t do this, I am going to end up living in a basement somewhere, yet at the same time the notion is so… so large.
/Maybe you should wait a year or two. After all, you have time?/ I pull up a movie and start to watch it as I mull over Verde’s reposte. I do have time. And perhaps I shouldn’t push this issue… Yet as I watch the movie, a romantic thing out of the early 90’s, I cannot help but think of momentum. An object at rest stays still. An object in motion will pick up momentum. Deciding to do something, be it starting to exercise, shower or getting up from bed is the start.
And if I don’t start somewhere, I’ll never be going anywhere. I take a breath through my nose and out through my mouth. Once. Twice. On the third inhalation I get up and out of my room. I ascend the stairs, one each time, and make for Hermann’s office.
I halt before the door. I take a moment to recall my arguments, panicking as I realize that the mental sheet I have composed inside my head is blank. I stand like that for a while. “Rune?”
I freeze. “Yeah?” “What are you doing?” “I am walking through the villa”, I respond before continuing, “that’s allowed right?” ” You have been standing outside my door ten minutes”, Hermann summarizes. Drat, that sonar of his is dirty.
I open the door and enter. Hermann sits behind his desk, hands steepled and face attentative. I clear my throat. A sliver of saliva moistens my mouth. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. A burst of cold, cold sweat erupts like Mount Vesuvius on my back. I do one of those Aspie-things that I have trained for a long time to erase; my eyes move from Hermann’s, to a spot on the wall above his head.
Hermann frowns, but remains silent. Ugh, he isn’t going to make this easy for me, that bastard. I clench my fists and bend my knees slightly, a routine meant to make blood flow easier, to get that unnatural bearing straightened.
I open my mouth and burp makes its escape. It breaks the tense mood in the room, and Hermann smiles a little.
“I want to move out of the villa. I want my own apartment.”