Extraordinary Mistakes

No one cried for them. Abigail repeats to herself. Why would you say that to the children?

That feeling quickly dissolves when she sees that, despite their curiosity, the students don’t relate to the ones who died on that day. To them, those children were of a different kind and deserved what happened.

“So, the massacre happened in April, and the group who carried it thought that they were powerful enough on their own. We know them as the Five. I’m sure that your parents have read you The Five Will Catch You.”

Abigail puts on the screen the book cover, with a small child running from five hideous figures. She then shows the photos of three women and two men.

“So, who are they?”

“Matthew Moore is the devil!” A student says and the others boo in agreement.

“Amanda and Amy Anderson are the evil twins!” Another adds.

“And the other two...? Who are they?” Abigail asks but the students have trouble naming them. “Stephanie and James Williams,” Abigail helps.

Around the room, no one seems to recognize them.

“The Five were monsters... as they showed on the Day of the Ariston Massacre. The Williams signed a deal with our government and then betrayed us. They signed it on the 3rd of May, which is why on the 4th we celebrate the Day of Peace! Before we finish up for today, I’d like for you to write a little essay about what the Day of Peace means to each of you and how you spend it this year!”

Abigail checks her watch and rushes out of her classroom, making it out of there faster than the children. She takes the stairs instead of the elevator and makes it in time to the library.

“You made it to lunch!” Aminu is already outside with a package for them both.

“Emily can’t come. I texted her; she is stuck on her interviews! How was your morning?”

“Not good. We are trying to make the bracelet work. No progress! At least Padma was there.” He looks away and tries to hide his smile.

“Why haven’t you made any move?”

“You know, don’t think she’d want to be with me.”

“Aminu, why would you say that? You’re such a catch, my friend. If you were my type, we’d be married by now,” she smiles and tries to make him look at her.

“Because I have autism. I’m too much for anyone to handle. You wanted to have lunch in the garden, but here we are, because I can’t go there. I’m too much. What if she wants to go to a restaurant or a club? Where’d we go, o, if she said yes to a date?”

“I wanted to have lunch with you. It was stupid to even mention the garden. I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot sometimes. If she likes you, she won’t mind of going to a smaller restaurant, or even staying in. You love so many things, Aminu, and you love them with all your heart.”

“But I am too much. Emily said it to me once. I got upset that she canceled our plans. She told me that it was hard being my friend.”

“Aminu, we’re all too much to handle. Emily included. But you make a world of an effort to change the things that you were born with. Your people should help you carry your burdens, not make you guilty of having them. If Padma, or whoever else, thinks that you are too much. They aren’t worth it. You deserve the same love that you give to the others.”

He forces himself to look at her and shares his dessert. He never allows anyone to touch his food, and Abigail learned to understand it. Instead, takes a piece of it and gives it to her. They always bring different menus to share.

“Are you working late today?” she asks.

“I have classes until seven, and then I have some studying to do for tomorrow.”

“I don’t know how you handle so much work: lab, classes, studying.”

Aminu knows that Abigail doesn’t do it on purpose, but he had to work. The more, the better the pay, and that’s something she can’t relate to.

“Yeah, I love it, even when it tires me. I hope they upgrade my contract for more hours.”

Abigail’s attention is taken away by a sudden pain. Her ears ring loudly and her head becomes heavy. She closes her eyes hoping it passes.

“Is it happening again?” Aminu asks.

She nods, counts to ten and it stops.

“It’s gone now.”

“You need to see a doctor.”

“Again? I think I’ve been to every doctor. Here, in Eurasia. I’ll go to a sorcerer next if necessary. The doctors keep saying the same, ‘don’t know. It won’t go away’. The next one will say the same.”

Abigail receives a text from her brother apologizing for not answering her call the day before. Aminu unconsciously looks at her phone. In the screen there’s a photo of Abigail and Ánh Nguyễn, when they were 13 years old, with their tongues showing.

“Her birthday was a few days ago, wasn’t it?” He asks.

Abigail just nods.

“I always think of her whenever I pass through her memoir. Can’t believe that it has already been three years,” he forces himself to look directly into Abigail’s eyes.

“Do you think it’ll ever stop hurting?” Her blue eyes fill with tears and her voice breaks.

He asks Abigail for her phone. TypesNotes on Griefby Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and hands it back.

“Love this author, o. Hope her words can soothe some of the pain,” he smiles while looking at her.

“Thank you, my friend...” she wipes her tears and forces a smile, “how’s your life on Saturday? There’s a new temporary exhibition in the museum!”

His eyes immediately glow, and he searches the paintings that are part of that exhibition and begins to explain to Abigail in great detail the difference between the styles and techniques.

No one else listens to him, they hear him, sure, but don’t listen. They just want it to be over, and don’t even acknowledge his soul. Waiting for an opportunity to change the subject and speak just as long, and not as passionately, about something else.

He was undoubtedly too much. Too much life. A cold, insensitive heart could neither appreciate nor understand. Only envy.