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“Gemma would fucking hate the man you have become. Do you know that?”
Mark takes a literal step back. “I…what?” His anger immediately dissipates, turning into a heavy despair. His eyes are still red rimmed and puffy, and he knows he must look terrible. “No…no she wouldn’t.”
/
“Take that back..” Suddenly they’re children again, on the playground. He’s standing alone, cornered by the mean older neighborhood kids. They’ve just called him a loser. He takes a deep breath. Even at ten he realizes he must look absolutely ridiculous, childish. Mark bunches his small hand into a fist, willing yet hesitant to strike. Suddenly:
“Hey! Back off!”
A tiny shrill voice says it. And soon, his twin sister is right beside him. She stands partially in front of him. The bully snorts, “Oh, great. The weirdo has his sister to defend him. What a freak.”
This does it.
At home, their mother scolds Devon. “You are so careless! You know he can’t handle things like that!”
Mark bristles all over again, “I’m autistic. Not fragile.” Which their mother just scoffs at.
As it turns out, being the only child diagnosed with autism in a small town in Pennsylvania can be extremely difficult. Even when it comes to your own family. Not with Devon, though. Mark turns his head,
/
His sister is there, looking at him. Even in his forties, Mark has never once seen his sister so devastatingly angry. Even at her small size she had ruined those boys. Broke one of their noses.
Now that anger is turned on to him. And he feels awful. He feels like that ten year old again. Too scared to speak out.
“Take that back,” he says again, thrown back into the terrible present. God, his voice even cracks when he says it.
Devon takes in a shaky breath, “She couldn’t ever hate you. But if she saw,” she hurriedly gestures at Mark’s disheveled frame, “she wouldn’t like you.”
Devon swallows hard, “You…I know you’re struggling but I didn’t fucking kill her. And now you have the chance to get her back. So don’t just…stand there and deny it! You should be ready to risk everything!”
Mark bristles, “And if Lumon is lying to you, you know, like they always do, what then? You’re gonna be without a sister and a brother.” He releases a choked sob, “They’ll kill me before I can ever kill myself.”
Devon flinches, but holds her ground,
/
“Coward.” Sixteen year old Devon reels around, facing her very soon to be former best friend, “What did you just call my brother?”
Sarah hesitates, “I mean…well…who has a panic attack at homecoming? It’s a little embarrassing, hon.”
Devon internally sighs, she doesn’t want to get into another fist fight over Mark. She worries she might have to. Devon hastily adjusts her backpack on her shoulder, “Do not talk about my brother like that.”
“Hm.”
Devon turns again, Mark is there. He’s fidgeting with his fingers, “I uhm…mom needs us home.” Devon nods, turning to glare at Sarah before moving to grab his hand and lead him out of the building.
Even after all this time, Devon is the only person allowed to touch him. She looks at their joined hands,
/
Mark smiles slightly and squeezes Gemma’s hand. They’re walking a little ahead of Devon, talking quietly to one another. She’d be a little disappointed, losing the title of “only person allowed to touch Mark”, if she didn’t love Gemma so much.
Even still, it’s too much fun to tease him:
“Hey, lovebirds, get a room!”
/
Mark shakes his head and turns, “Yeah. Okay.” He moves to the very edge of the porch and takes a seat. He’s staring out at the woods, slightly hunched over. From where she’s standing Devon can see him open his mouth,
/
“It should’ve been me.”
Thirty-nine year old Devon turns, still half asleep. “Huh? What?”
Her brother is sitting on the edge of her bed, and she sighs. “Oh, bud. Come back to sleep.” He shakes his head, “I should let Rick come to bed.”
Devon grabs his hand before he can go, “No, it’s…he’s fine. Come here.” And pulls him into a hug before he has the chance to protest,
/
“Don’t say stuff like that.” Devon chokes out, arms wrapped around his neck. “Please, don’t.” Mark squirms in her arms, but she doesn’t let go.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. But I…” she pauses and swallows, “I think Gemma could be down there. And I’d like you to at least try before you do any more DIY brain surgery. Yeah?”
Mark nods, and in him she sees every decade of him. The terrified, bullied ten year old. The shy and anxious teenager, the happily married man, the suicidal adult.
She sees him debate on what to say, his mouth opening and closing momentarily. Finally, he pats her hand,
/
“Yeah. Okay.”
Nineteen year old Devon smiles brightly. “College is gonna be so good for you Mark! Ack! I’m so excited!”
He’s finally agreed to let her come over to his dorm for Christmas. “Oh, man! This means I get to meet your girlfriend who you think I don’t know about.”
Mark literally pulls himself back from the hug, “My-huh? I don’t…I wouldn’t…” He’s blushing terribly, and Devon can’t help but smile.
“You literally have a photo of her on your wall!” She says, laughing when she sees Mark get impossibly redder.
“That’s…she’s a…well…” He sighs, trailing off. Devon gasps, “Oh my God! You love her!”
Mark opens his mouth to protest, but finally pats her shoulder and says,
/
“She is everything.”
Devon hums, moving to sit beside him on the porch. “Yeah. I know.”