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The moment when everyone was together was strange. Very strange. Columbus never imagined his parents could still be alive after sixteen years of apocalypse, and yet, there they all were, in the backyard of the “Ohio” family.
Columbus’s mother, Jane, was slicing Sicilian lemons to decorate the lemonades she had made, while his father, Hank, read a newspaper. Both completely oblivious to the destroyed, zombie-filled world that had replaced the world of Walmart and Wendy’s. He knew they knew, but no one dared to break this weird silence between them all.
Everyone, except Jane and Hank, was quiet, uncomfortable. Tallahassee never thought the people Columbus described as shut-ins would have survived so long in the zombie apocalypse, especially with the T-800 variant. He thought both of Columbus's parents were nerds like him and that they were older than they actually were. Wichita, in turn, found it strange to be meeting her husband’s parents for the first time, since she herself had never truly had a family beyond Little Rock. And for Little Rock, something about Jane and Hank was strange.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” Columbus’s mother brought over the tray with four glasses of lemonade, with little paper umbrellas and a smile on her face.
“Thanks, Mom.” He smiled, awkwardly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Ohio.” Wichita took her glass.
“Oh dear, you can just call me Jane.” A warm smile spread across her face. “Go on, take one too!” She offered them to Tallahassee and Little Rock, who took the glasses but exchanged a look, a She’s way too cheerful look, a shared thought only they understood.
Why were they there? Wichita was pregnant.
Columbus wanted his child to have something from their grandparents. Of course, his family was completely eccentric, and both of his parents were, in his own words, introverted paranoids like himself.
Sixteen years. He spent sixteen years believing they had died when the city of Columbus burned down, and because of that, he never looked for them. Or rather, he stopped wanting to look for them once he met Tallahassee, then Wichita and Little Rock.
All of that made the current situation even stranger. They were all sitting on beach chairs in the massive backyard of the isolated Ohio family farm: Wichita with a small but noticeable belly, Columbus slightly hunched, and Tallahassee and Little Rock confused and wary.
“Well, at least you all arrived alive,” Columbus’s father commented from behind the newspaper. “That already makes this a better family reunion than the last one we had.” Hank shrugged. Jane turned to Wichita.
“I never imagined he’d have children. Or even get married.” Jane commented, looking at the young woman’s abdomen. Columbus choked on his lemonade. “Not in the world we lived in before. Much less in this one.”
“Mom!”
Tallahassee and Little Rock only watched the interaction. The girl lowered her cup and leaned closer to Tallahassee.
“No wonder he’s weird.” Tallahassee agreed. She thought she had spoken quietly, but Jane turned toward the blonde.
“Oh no, he’s just autistic!” Somehow, Jane managed to say it as if she were simply saying He has a peanut allergy
“Mom! That— that’s completely disrespectful. I mean, there isn’t even an autistic person here, but saying I’m autistic just because I’m ‘different’ is insensitive.” Columbus defended himself.
“But sweetheart, you really are autistic.”
“Son, you were diagnosed at five years old.” Hank lowered the newspaper. “We thought that if you knew, you might limit yourself, you know?”
“Maybe it was a mistake. But you turned out so well!” The woman smiled at her son, while his face was twisted in shock.
Everyone was stunned, shocked. They knew Columbus was weird; Columbus himself knew he was weird. Slowly, the expression of surprise on his face began to fall away and give space to realization.
Now everything makes sense. All the times other kids looked at me as if I was weird, the times I went mute under too much stress or when I had to interact in new environments, the anxiety.
It wasn’t them, it never was. It was me, It was always me. None of this was something I learned from my parents — not completely, at least. I think that’s where the survival rules come from. How did I never realize this before? Looking at Wichita, Little Rock, and Tallahassee in that moment, I think I realized something even more valuable: they took care of me even without understanding what I was feeling. They calmed me down when the sound of shotgun blasts was too loud, Wichita started holding me tighter, adding more pressure when she noticed it helped with my anxiety. Even Tallahassee learned to notice signs of stress in me, and Little Rock helped me with verbal situations. They were my family now.
A smile formed on Columbus’s face as he looked at his found family. At the family he had formed with those three other survivors, and at the belly carrying this new member who would complete the family.
Wherever he was, if he was with Tal, Little Rock and Wichita, he would be home.