Holding Up the Universe(32)

“So you can see my face, but you can’t remember it.”

“Something like that. It’s not like faces are a blank. I see eyes, noses, mouths. I just can’t associate them with specific people. Not like how you, as in Libby, can take a mental snapshot of someone and store it away in your mind for next time. I take a snapshot, and it immediately goes in the trash. If it takes you one or two meetings to be able to remember someone, it can take me a hundred. Or never. It’s kind of like amnesia or like trying to tell everyone apart by their hands.”

She glances down at her hands and then at mine. “So when you turn away and then you turn back, you’re not sure who I am?”

“Intellectually, I get that it’s you. But I don’t believe it, if that makes sense. I have to convince myself all over again This is Libby. I know that sounds crazy.” What’s crazy is standing here talking about this to someone other than myself.

“Is it true it’s hard to watch TV or movies because you can’t keep the characters straight?”

“Like people, some shows and movies are harder than others. Monster movies and cartoons are easy. Crime shows aren’t so much. I’m always wondering, Where’s the bad guy? And Who the hell is that?”

I’m looking at her, and I’m charged with all this crazy, heart-pounding adrenaline. It’s almost as if she’s interviewing me, but I don’t mind because it’s the first time I’ve talked about this with anyone, and it’s kind of feeling a lot like freedom, like Here’s a person who might actually be able to get who I am.

“How is it, you know, to have it?”

“It’s like having a circus in my mind and always jumping through hoops. It’s like being in a crowded room where at first you don’t know anyone. Always.”

Her eyes go bright and kind of intense. “Like coming back to school five years later and you’re trying to figure out if you knew him or her or them, but everyone looks different, and so the people you knew before are just … people.”

“Right. You don’t know their histories and details, all the things that make them who they are now. And you’re the only one who feels that way.”

“While the rest of them go to class and go to lunch like, Oh, look at me, I’ve been doing this forever. I know you and I know you and time never stopped, and here I am.”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes are large and the lashes are long. The color of her eyes is this very clear light brown. Like amber or whiskey. I’m having a hard time seeing the girl in the crane in this girl here. Even though the girl in front of me is big, she’s much more delicate in person.

She goes, “Do you ever wonder if it’s everyone else who sees the world differently? Like, maybe you see people the way they’re supposed to be seen?”

“Identifiers. That’s what I call it. Everyone has at least one thing that stands out.”

“Is that why your hair’s so big?”

“My hair’s big because it’s so damn awesome, baby.”

She makes this hmm sound as if she doesn’t quite believe it, and then she tilts her head to one side, scrunches up her forehead, and says, “I feel like I know you. You know, from way back when.”

My pulse speeds up. It starts buzzing the way my phone is buzzing. I’m thinking, You don’t know me, you don’t know me, like I have some power over her mind and, whatever happens, she cannot find out I was there that day she was rescued from her house. If she does find out, she might think I’m making fun of her because I saw her being rescued from her house, that this is why I grabbed her.

She says, “Did you go to Westview Elementary?”

“No, ma’am.” Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes again.

“Do you need to get that? Someone really wants to talk to you.”

“They can wait.”

She’s still studying me, but finally she shakes her head as if she’s clearing the slate. “I’m having that ‘I feel like I know you’ feeling a lot these days.”

“You’re in good company. Or maybe shitty company, depending on how you look at it.” I smile. She almost does, but stops herself. “With face blindness, I seem to constantly lose the people I love.”

She goes quiet for a second. “I know what that’s like.” And walks away.

I drive home and collect my little brother, and we scavenge the garage for robot materials. This is where I store the wreckage from all the creations I’ve built and later taken apart.

I say, “Hey, little man, how was school today?”

“Okay.”

“Real okay or fake okay?”

“Somewhere in between.”





I meet Rachel in the park. We sit on our usual bench and she says, “So why did you punch him?”

Because I’m ready for my normal life. I just want to move forward like everyone else without being grabbed in cafeterias as if I’m some sort of prize heifer at a rodeo.

I tell myself, This is the person you can say anything to, the person who knows you better than anyone. But all I come up with is “I was mad.”

And then I think of three more questions I want to ask Jack.

The next afternoon, Mr. Levine is practicing free throws when we all walk into the gym. He says, “You’re here. Excellent. Keshawn, Travis, Jack, and Libby, you’ll be playing Natasha, Andy, Maddy, and me.”