Saving Laurel

3. First Impressions

Wes Thompson

My fingers run along the ivory bones of the piano, singing my song into the open air of my empty house and with it they take all the build up of anxiety and pressure I've been holding inside.

I'm finally able to relax.

To get away from it for a moment.

My fingers hit the last note, trickling out into the space around me until it's just silence. Everything is still. Including me. For a moment.

But then I tic.

And then I hear the front door open and my mom's voice bounces through the house.

"Hey baby, I'm home." She calls.

"Hey mom." Swinging my legs around the piano bench, I slouch, flexing my fingers to stretch them.

I've been parked at the piano for well over an hour trying to find a reprieve from myself.

My mom's keys clatter across the counter, her purse slamming down with a plunk because my mom is basically the equivalent to Mary Poppins. She carries an entire store in her purse, where ever we go. I blame it on her job, she's a nurse in the pediatric center at the hospital.

"How was school today Wesley?" She asks, flipping through the mail as I poke my head around the half wall that separates the foyer from the rest of the house.

Everything is fine.

"It was.." my answer is interrupted momentarily by my tic in the form of a shoulder twitch, a neck jerk, sharp inhale and then I have to touch my nose. "Fine."

"How's spaghetti sound?" I watch her separate the mail into two piles. Junk and bills.

But even though the foyer looks right, shoes all perfectly stacked, I end up fixing the piles anyway, just to be sure and then walk the short distance to the kitchen and say "want help?"

She smiles, we both have the same dimple, and says "that'd be great."

So I rifle through the pantry until I find a box of spaghetti noodles and a jar of spaghetti sauce. By the time I locate my two items, mom already has a pot on the stove with some water in it.

"I was thinking.." she says as I tear open the box and break up the noodles. "About asking Ryan to come for dinner tomorrow night."

I whistle. "You've told him about me?"

My mom laughs. "Of course I've told him about you."

I roll my eyes and look at her letting the rest of the noodles fall into the water. "You know what I mean."

She sighs and I'm waiting for the lecture about how my Tourette's shouldn't be something I'm ashamed of. That anyone who loves me will overlook my tics. But the truth is they don't. I've got about twelve years of cold hard facts that prove my point too. It doesn't help that I'm not just running with Tourette's, let's throw some OCD and ADHD in the mix and you've got a recipe for disaster. Or me. Though I have to say my ADHD is pretty well managed with drugs and I've put enough time in with therapy to the point where my OCD is relatively controlled. I think. Alright, maybe it's still a work in progress.

"Yes Wesley, he knows." She says.

"And he knows (shoulder, neck tic) about the..."

She doesn't let me finish though, her hands falling on my arms as she looks up at me slightly.

"Would you have some faith in me Wes. And him, for Pete's sake." She grumbles.

I smirk a little. I knew my mom liked Ryan when she told me his name. But she must really like Ryan if she wants him to meet me.

"Well I don't know him." I tease. "Maybe he sucks."

Her head shakes but there's laughter in her green eyes. "So what do you think? Should I invite him?"

I fold my arms around my mom, she fits perfectly right under my chin. The number one best thing about my mom is that when it's just the two of us, I don't have to worry about my tics. I don't have to sit there and stress if I'm gonna offend someone or scare anyone or worry about what everyone thinks. I don't have to try and suppress them. I can just be me, Wesley, and all the chaos that I am.

I don't want that to change.

But I'm more than aware of all the changes mom had to make for me, because of me. So I squeeze her a little tighter and say "let's do it".

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Folding my legs over the bench seat of the picnic table in the courtyard at school I dump my lunch out, jerk my head to the side and whistle.

Brett sits beside me, clearing his throat as Ellie, James and Savannah fill in the space around us, everyone in their respective spots. Savannah's been going on about this exhibit she wants to go see, I honestly haven't been listening, too preoccupied with keeping myself at bay.

"You alright?" I hear Brett murmur beside me.

I can't answer right away though as I manage another tic.

"Sawyer." I mumble in response and all Brett does is nod his head.

"Hey are we doing a movie night tonight?" Savannah chimes, her gray eyes focused on Brett but like normal Brett is completely unaware. "Who's house? Wes's?"

"Fuck!" I whistle, my shoulder twitches, neck jerks, sharp inhale and then brush my hand to my nose. It's a lot just to get to what I want to say. "Uh can't, sorry."

"Why not?"

"We always movie night at your house." Ellie adds, pouting slightly like that might change her fate.

"My moms (whistle) new boyfriend is (neck, whistle...again) is coming for dinner."  I tell the table.

"Mama Grace finally caught herself a fish." James muses. "You nervous?"

I shake my head no but in all realty I am. Which is part of the reason my tics are obnoxious right now. The other part of the reason is Sawyer.

"Hey there's that new girl." Ellie says, pink tipped hair spilling over her shoulders as she not so subtle points with her gogurt tube.

My back is facing the general direction but even if it wasn't I'd refrain from introducing myself anyway. In fact, I'd like to stay as invisible as possible for as long as possible, which is hard when you can't stop yourself from jerking and making weird noses and yelling.

But I try anyway.

I suck at first impressions. And as anyone will tell you, first impressions aren't everything, but they are.

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So what you think?