The tech repair shop had good news and bad news. The good news: they booted the phone to life (she brought it here after charging it failed to work) and bypass the password. The bad news: they couldn’t repair the scars disfiguring the screen.
Not the cracked glass; that could be replaced.
The screen. They came in colours of green, blue and purple, and etched deep into the motherboard underneath. Yet, it didn’t obey the motherboard. It didn’t move with the screen as Serena swiped and tapped, nor could it.
No circuit or transmitter could budge it even by a pixel, because scars didn’t move. That’s how scars disfigure.
Scars were also prone to infection, especially when left in sewage water for a few days. A rash of magenta pixels broke out everywhere, clinging onto the widgets like bubblegum. It slowed every response to a crawl, that is if they responded at all.
The shopkeeper suggested she bought an upgrade and save herself the trouble.
It didn’t take long for this diseased screen to pop a vein in her head. She had to wait a second for every tap to be registered, only to discover the device had misunderstood her. Then, she had to wait another second to correct it, only for it to backfire.
All she achieved was reading the full conversation between Alicia and the scammer. Hm? This was the account of her classmate. Had they turned to a life of scamming, or had a scammer hacked it?
Either way, Alicia fell for it.
Another vein popped when she read the scammer’s lies. That’s where it came from. One pathetic guy in India scamming a poor little girl. He had the gall to call Serena a drug dealer, and tell the girl he was proud of her.
This bait would’ve never worked if Serena herself told Alicia that more often.
This was her fault. Everything was her fault.
Dr Ling, in an unexpected turn, did not disagree with this sentiment, at least not immediately. She almost criticised him for not doing his job until he asked a question.
Again, it silenced her.
“What is it like living a life where everything is your fault?”
The longest silence followed. So long that she felt guilty for wasting his time.
“Do you have children?” She asked.
“Twin boys. In primary school.”
At least he’s a parent. But not a single parent. The silence continued.
“I… It’s sad. I guess.”
He nodded.
“What is it like for Alicia to live a life knowing everything is your fault?”
She knew ‘your’ referred to her in his question. But her mind preferred an alternative: What is it like for Alicia to live a life knowing everything is her fault? Then it was back to more silence.
Serena told herself that the goal of finding Alicia made invading her privacy justified. The Notes app spared no effort to arrange Alicia’s diary entries, as the scars had engulfed the options to do so. The scars also covered the left portion of the document, which she had to zoom and pinch past. It was like pulling on a rubber band, and the document snapped back to default size whenever she let go
This back-and-forth drove her up the wall.
It took much willpower to resist throwing this phone out the window again. After copying the letter onto the back of an envelope, she read it to herself:
‘Why do people shake hands? I don’t like touching random people’s hands and feeling their palm sweat all over mine! Ew! Mom keeps forcing me to shake hands with everyone and it’s disgusting! When we meet, can we not shake hands please?’
What was wrong with that girl? All this fuss over a mere handshake. No one else had issues with it, so why her?
It wasn’t just handshakes either. She also made a fuss over eye-contact, fish markets, normal markets, the MRT, cookies in the oven…
Why would anyone think about this? Handshakes were handshakes, eye-contact was eye-contact, fish markets were fish markets… What was there to think about?
Weird.
‘She thinks everything I do or don’t do is weird. I hate her. What’s so wrong about staring at cookies bake? I like to see the dough rise! The only time I’m not weird is when I do exactly what she says…’
She blinked, then rebutted as if Alicia could hear it, “No! But for forty-five minutes? How could you not—” She smacked her head with moderate force.
The girl’s lack of common sense, complemented with the stubbornness to listen to anything unless it was explained in detail, made everyone’s blood boil.
It’s like playing the why-game with an annoying kid. Why do people make eye-contact? It’s respectful. Why is eye-contact respectful? It displays attentiveness. Why does it display attentiveness?
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Ugh.
‘...only Kat doesn’t think I’m weird, and her parents don’t think she’s weird either. Maybe it’s because she’s autistic? Would Mom stop thinking I’m weird if I was autistic? Or will she think I’m even weirder? Do you think I’m weird?’
Autism. So that’s why Alicia shouted that. It didn’t sound like a proper word to her.
Kat. That friend she told Alicia to stay away from. But no, the girl became best friends with this bad influence. The idea to run away probably came from her.
And the place to run to.
She called Mr Lee for help. He scheduled a meeting between her and Kat tomorrow. It happened in the middle of class, where she had to watch as Mr Lee summoned her out. Everyone gossiped about it.
Kat’s posture alone confirmed her predictions on this bad apple. Arms crossed, eyes rolled, and zero greetings made. Alicia learnt it all from her.
She felt pity for her parents. This child must be a nightmare to discipline. Or perhaps she ought to feel contempt, as this behaviour may come from a lack of parenting. Or perhaps she ought to stop judging, seeing that she fared worse than her parents; at least their daughter was still here.
They talked in the empty canteen.
“Hi, I’m—”
Kat headed to the drinks vendor to get herself a cup of lemonade. No prior notice, no polite apologies, no question of whether she wanted one too. Kids nowadays.
She tried again, “Hi, I’m—”
“I don’t know where Alicia is. It was a surprise to me too, okay? Why can’t the both of you just talk to each other? All she told me was she was heading to the airport to meet her father. That’s it.”
“You—Okay, then what did you say?”
“I told her not to turn her back on family. She didn’t listen.”
The filial piety contradicted everything else about Kat.
“Did she say anything before this?”
“She hates you. She thinks you don’t listen to her, and she wants to stop masking her autism.”
As suspected, Alicia learnt this nonsense from her nonsense friend. “So you’re the one who told her about this autism nonsense?”
“Wow.” Kat rolled her eyes. “If you want me to help you, I suggest you chill the fuck out with the ableism.”
“Why did you tell Alicia that stuff?”
“Stuff… Did you even listen when Alicia talked to you about it?”
“Tsk! Are you this rude to everyone you meet?”
“Says the ableist.”
“What is A-blist?” Kids nowadays. “I don’t understand your teenage slang, okay?”
Kat snickered, “You seriously expect Alicia to like you when you call her nonsense? A-U-T-I-S-M. Fucking google it. Don’t worry, it’s not a drug, I promise.” She smiled with the passive-aggressiveness the part-timers at the pet store did towards Cheryl when tolerating her sharp words.
“You say don’t turn your back on family, yet this is how you treat your parents?”
“Oh no, I only treat ableists like you this way.” Another passive-aggressive smile.
She shook her head and left in a huff. Kids nowadays.
She googled ‘autism’ after punching her steering wheel like a punching bag and blowing her reddened knuckles, which hurt to the touch.
A developmental condition? As if! Alicia was a perfectly fine and normal girl. Plus, there was no way Wei Xiang would miss it.
Special needs were impossible to ignore. No one could overlook the weird look on their faces, in their postures, and their mannerisms. How they stared at all the wrong places, talked to no one but themselves, and the weird tics possessing their hands and legs. It was alien.
One time, she met such a kid on the train. Not only was he playing music from his phone at maximum volume, he was also singing and dancing to it.
Everyone saw the ‘special needs’ on him and hence extended their politeness to let him be. Even the mean-spirited folks kept their mockery to a whisper.
Alicia was nothing like that.
That was, unless she considered Alicia’s first visit to the fish market. But the girl was Primary one; wasn’t it just a childish fit? Better to consult the girl’s doctor than try to be him.
Wei Xiang and Carrie were more than happy to have her over for dinner, and their initial reactions agreed with her: Alicia was nothing like that.
Then, the doctor in him took over. Did Alicia exhibit symptoms of this condition?
Yes, Alicia checked a few boxes, as did every teenager on Earth. They all lacked the manners and respect for socializing. Their stubborness was the same as a ‘rigid pattern of thinking’. And who hadn’t played with their pens out of boredom once or twice; which they called ‘stimming’.
Paying thousands of dollars for a doctor to tell her what she already knew was the dumbest waste of money she could ever conceive of. Wei Xiang could do it for cheaper.
“This isn’t my area of expertise, that’s why I’m asking you to find another clinic. They could catch things that you or Alicia may not even know about, and give Alicia the help she needs. If she’s diagnosed, that is.”
“She’s not!” Serena groaned. “I know Alicia. She’s my daughter! There’s nothing wrong with my daughter! She’s just going through her teenage phase. You said it yourself.”
“Where on earth did you hear me say there’s something wrong with Alicia?”
“Well, you—Alicia doesn’t need a doctor! She just needs to behave and listen to what I say!”
“What if she struggles to behave because she’s autistic?”
“She’s not!” Serena raised her voice. “Stop looking at Alicia like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like—like she’s some broken thing that needs to be fixed in rehab with all the medicine and the therapy and the whatever!”
“It’s not a drug addiction, Serena! Autism doesn’t require a code red! And I never thought of you like that!”
“Bullshit. Do you know what it feels like to live everyday knowing it’s all your fault?”
“I wasn’t trying to fix you, I was trying to save you! You know the difference, right?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Right?”
“Thanks for dinner.” She left.
She drove and drove without a destination, because that was preferable to driving home. The city whizzed past her, as did a thousand memories in a thousand fragments which played out of order. Only one question bound this chaos together, one that she asked herself this morning: What is it like for Alicia to live a life knowing everything is her fault?
Her phone buzzed. A text from Cheryl.
“I know you’re still taking time off, but meet me at the pet store tomorrow. I know where she is, I’ll help you find her.”
Serena drove back home.