Be My Friend

I.

The day started for her as so many others had before it.

Since she was scared of the sound the alarm on her clock radio made, she always had her morning reminder in the form of the radio station’s morning program suddenly beginning. If the program’s objective was meant to be to wake people up angry, it succeeded admirably in its aims. Not only was the news- the same things, repeatedly said on the half hour and top of the hour, with only some minor local variations- extremely frustrating to her, but the various hosts and reporters who appeared on it had apparently attended a fly-by-night instruction course rather than college to learn their trade. That was apparent in the fact that they were too gregarious, ingratiating, and, above all, loud, for her liking.

After eating breakfast, she went out with her lunch in a brown bag, being careful to lock the condo door from the outside before going, just as she had been instructed to do so many years earlier. Then it was off to stand and freeze in the pre-sunrise air for an abominably long time before her bus arrived. In other words, typical Winnipeg weather.

Hardly a paradise was this place, either. Virtually every seat was occupied, and many people were standing up, holding the belt-loop pieces of rubber designed to keep place and balance in grabbing reach above the aisle. Carefully, she selected a spot where she might still have some desired privacy while still being lost amongst the crowd. But more noises came to persecute her. Not just the constant loud ping of the electric “Stop Requested” sign going off, but also the constant interchange of people getting on and off the bus. To say nothing of the people using their various hand-held electronic gadgets at the highest possible volume. She would have attempted to reprimand them for this, but the earphones in their ears made them deaf to the entire outside world, not just her.

Once the bus got off downtown, she transferred to another, going north to her job site. There were far less people on this bus, but still enough of them, coupled with new arrivals, to ensure the pinging continued ad nauseum. The fact that this bus passed a busy hospital made that unavoidable.

Then she arrived at work, with barely enough time before she could technically be considered “late”.

She worked in the library of a school. However, the traditional concept of the library as a place of respectful tranquility did not exist here.

For starters, the school had been built towards the end of the 1970s, back in the day before people like her had been seen as a group apart, let alone one with sociopolitical needs and wants. The library was a complete reflection of this. It was constructed as a circle-in-the-round, with a ring of shelves around the exterior, a bank of computers in the middle of the space, and a lengthy desk which served as both the check-in/out space and the work space for her and her employer. The shelves were made out of wood and adjusted to the average height of the principal users of the library, from kindergarten up to junior high. She knew all of them by heart. Not just because she had to put the books back on the shelves, but because she had to clean many of them as well.

Then there was her employer. A full generation older than her, and a divorced parent- which apparently accounted for the brusque and unsympathetic manner in which our heroine was held in doing her various jobs. While Jenny had been fully trained to do her work by the local community college, her employer seemed to take it for granted that, as a young woman, and one with Asperger’s Syndrome at that, she was a) stupid, b) capable of becoming fully absorbed in a task at hand to the exclusion of anything else, c) in constant need of re-education about how to do the job “properly”, which was always provided when she did something “wrong”, and d)there to be abused and shouted at if c) did not take effect on her as it was supposed to. Only b) was correct, and it was, in fact, almost entirely devoted to performing tasks as demanded. While Jenny had made major and important improvements to the archaic computerized catalogue of the school, and was regularly thanked by teachers for helping them and students find materials, the lack of interest in her that her employer showed was utterly galling.

And then there were the students themselves. Jenny was willing to give the younger ones a pass because they simply could not have heard of her condition, but she felt so many of the older ones were morons that were more interested in fun, games and sports than any constructive work. Considering the computer bank was located mere feet from her work space, she had a more than close means of observing their idiotic, immature behavior. On a regular basis, because it seemed like some class always had to be using the computers to do some assignment or another. Couldn’t they just stay in the classroom to do those things?, she kept thinking. Wasn’t that what classrooms were for? Again, she felt like issuing a verbal reprimand, only to have her employer and/or the class’ teacher beat her to it, although they didn’t do it often enough for Jenny’s liking.

So the day passed. Jenny was kept busy during that time- putting the returned books away, then checking out new books for students (with another loud set of pings), and, in the short intervals between the classes, updating the catalogue. Occasionally she would be asked for help finding something, but that was rare, and, even then, amongst the students, the request would be so heavily slurred or accented that she would be forced to turn them over to her employer.

When her shift was over, Jenny headed for the door, not wanting to stay a minute more in a place that, while providing her with work and money, didn’t seem to “value” her in the same way in which it purported to do so for its young clientele. It was then a simple matter of repeating the ridiculous situation with the buses again a couple more times before she returned home. Stressed out by the regular exposure to noises she did not like, and sometimes heard again and again in her mind long after they had first been made, she had her typical TV dinner, attended to a mild amount of Internet correspondence, and then went to bed at an early hour.

To repeat the whole process over again the following day, to her great frustration.

II.

Jennifer Brown had the genetic pattern typical to people with Asperger’s syndrome- one parent in a job demanding patient attention to detail (her mother, the accountant) and another in a more emotionally expressive but not as remunerative job (her father, the artist (as he claimed to be)). Her father had never been attentive towards her, being as his problems with alcohol, aggravated by his lack of success in his chosen profession, interfered with that. Not liking this behavior, and using her authority as the bread-winner, her mother made him leave, and Jenny had never seen nor heard from her since.

That left Jenny entirely at her mother’s mercy. Extremely strong-willed, and expecting things to be done properly, or not at all, she brought up her daughter according to these specifications. It was a simple formulation: things done properly were acknowledged, albeit curtly and without emotion, and deviations were met with a hard slap across the face to create “encouragement” to do “better”. Slaps were always done in private only, to avoid any sort of accusations of abuse, particularly when Jenny was a child. When adolescence hit, nothing changed. Confronted by the bloody evidence of her daughter’s entrance into womanhood on her clothing, and Jenny sobbing about how she was seemingly “dying”, Mrs. Brown simply told her daughter that now she had the “honor” of being like “everyone else” in the world. Occasionally, under the influence of feminine hormones, phases of the moon, and the fact that she had grown taller than her mother, Jenny would attempt a rebellion, only to be met with an even more savage set of slaps, and a fast retreat.

The only release from this came with her mother’s death- of a heart attack, likely brought about from her endless smoking- when Jenny had completed high school, and was attending community college in hopes of becoming a library technician (which, in her youth, was considered by her to be a paradise among professions). Inheriting their condo and her mother’s small fortune cushioned the loss, but the emotional scars and wounds she had gained would never heal. Worse, after getting her certification and getting the job at the school, she seemed to be stuck in the same old trap of being the younger pushover for an older woman who held all the cards.

It was no wonder that Jenny, while physically attractive and healthy, was an emotionally broken young woman inside of her mind. Where she seemed to spend most of her time as it was.

*

On the rare occasions when she was granted “free” time during the week, and on weekends, at least on the equally rare occasions that it wasn’t winter in the city in which she lived, Jenny walked or bicycled around the forested parkland in which her condo building was located, taking comfort in the large amount of peace it provided her (though, occasionally upon seeing young women like herself married and with children, she would ruefully consider, endlessly as always, what might have been.)

It was here that her fortunes changed, at first seemingly for the better, but, ultimately, for the worst.

The parkland encircled a large, man-made lake, which had long been a selling point for the neighborhood. Marigolds surrounded the area, to the extent of almost seeming to be drowning the grass in their presence.

Swimming and other aquatic activities, however, were forbidden, due to the deepness of the water and the uncontrollable nature of the currents within.

At the edge of the lake one evening, a barn owl, having seemingly lost its way, skirted across the waterway, uneasily...

Jenny was surprised, and shocked, to see what appeared to be a man bobbing up and down in the water and crying for help.

Although Jenny was aware of the risks involved in trying to rescue him- not only the threat to herself physically, but legally as well, if she was seen breaking the law- she put them out of her mind. They were outweighed by the sense of moral responsibility her mother had demanded she possess.

If he drowns, she thought, it’ll be my fault. I can’t stand for that.

First looking to see if anyone was around to see her (and, thankfully, there wasn’t), she carefully removed her shoes and socks, rolled up the legs of her pants, and waded into the water. As it passed her knees, then her waist, and then her bosom, she feared for the worst inside. Outside, however, there was an enormous, almost pacific level of calm on her face as she wrapped one of her arms around his waist, which calmed his panicking. Then, with a surprising level of strength in her fragile body, she guided them both back onto the shore.

No water had entered his throat, so CPR was not required. He was, however, exhausted from the events, just as she was. So she stood watch over him as they both recovered.

When he revived, he thanked her, as he should, but then sat dumbfounded, as if he were a knight about to declare his undying loyalty to a beautiful princess, but uncertain about how to say it in such a way as not to offend her modesty.

Jenny, for her part, received his gaze with a mixture of shock and awe. Her enormous personal insecurity about herself and her appearance, coupled with equally deep fears about being labeled a “slut” and/or getting pregnant too young, meant she had never paid much attention to boys before. But she paid attention to him- rapt attention.

He was handsome, unquestionably, with thick brown hair brushed up to a point, and liquid blue eyes that seemed to look deeply into her soul, and confess that he felt the same as she did on so many things. But that wasn’t all that drew her to him, for she would not have fallen in love with him strictly on that basis.

If her instincts were correct, he seemed like someone who suffered from Asperger’s as much as she did, given the insecurities she had noticed in his body language and behavior from the start. They were a rare bird by any respect, based on her limited experiences in dating.

And she wasn’t going to let him go, if that was the case.

So she cleared her throat, softly, in order to break the hold his eyes had on her.

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly, as he looked away briefly. “But I’ve never seen a girl like you before, and…”

“Why?” she answered, fearing the worst.

“Your eyes. There aren’t many people with silver-colored eyes, let alone girls.”

“I’m…glad you feel they’re an asset. I didn’t always think so.”

“I don’t know if this is being too forward, but….I want to be your friend. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“Sure. I don’t mind a bit.”

He stood up. He was slightly taller than her, and, like her, the legs made up most of the height.

“Surely,” he continued, “someone complemented you on your appearance some time, uh…”

“Jenny. And you are…?”

“Milo.”

“Well, Milo, it might have come as a shock to you, but I’m not exactly a very sociable person. Far from it. Most of the time, I find it difficult talking to others. Especially strangers.”

The emphasised word was her way of trying to determine whether he was truly friend or foe, and determine whether he wanted to be one or the other to her.

“How could you think of me as a stranger when you saved my life?” he responded.

“No,” she said. “Of course I couldn’t think of you like that. But I don’t really know you. I mean, really know..”

“I know what you mean. It’s so hard for both of us to do that, being who we are. But I’m willing to let a fellow Aspie help me with knowing her.”

“How did you know I was one of them?”

“I saw it in your eyes. You kept up such a brave face through most of it that you almost seemed like a neuro-typical person. But I saw the way your eyes twitched. You were terrified of drowning, or that I’d reject your efforts to help me. That your sacrifice would be in vain.”

“Yes,” she almost shouted. “That’s true. And I could see that you were afraid, too. Not just of drowning. That I might have just come out there to ridicule you, or that I might have tried to put you out of your mercy by letting you drown. Which I wouldn’t have done.”

He nodded, with a revealing look on his face. Impulsively, on the surface, but purposely beneath, she kissed him on the lips and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Not here,” he whispered.

“What?” she said, as she withdrew from him. Then, panicking, she blurted out: “I’m sorry! I should have asked first. You know: about if you even knew how to…….or if you even were into doing it with…”

“No,” he responded, in a calming voice. “I love you, no question. But we shouldn’t be doing this in public like this.”

“Even with no one around here, like now?”

“People could come, eventually. But this is the sort of thing that only we two can experience fully, and we need to keep it between us for it to be really special and memorable.”

“Agreed. Don’t worry: I know just the place.”

And, displaying the same sort of secret strength she had shown in rescuing him, she gripped his hand tightly, after putting her shoes and socks back on, and they walked back to her condo, after picking a couple of marigolds out of many to decorate her barren rooms.

She was his as much as he was hers. And neither would be the same again.

III.

He was truly a stranger in town, with no identity and no contacts. But she had given herself to him now, and she felt responsible for his welfare in a way she had not felt before. In the aftermath of their love making, she made him aware of this as they lay awake in the bed.

“We can’t stay like this forever,” she said, with the old fear of consequence coming back to her. “We’ll have to get married. Not right away, of course. But, if we stay like this forever, people will talk, and I don’t want that.”

“Me neither,” he said.

“And, besides which, I might get pregnant. I’m….or I was, a virgin…”

“So…was…I….”

“So there’s even more of a risk, then. Our sperm and eggs are….” Tears came to her eyes. “Oh, what was I doing, making love without thinking about….?”

“Most people do it without thinking,” he said, comforting her. “The desire to copulate, and copulation itself, is one of those animal instincts we inherited from the cavemen and the lower animals. It’s not something people can entirely decide on their own.”

“Even intelligent people, like we are?”

“Not even us.”

“Well, then. I guess we’re stuck. Or I am, anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because women can be more easily abandoned by their lovers, and trapped into pregnancy and child-rearing and other dependent stuff by them.” She was crying again. “It’s easy for you. You can just jerk off on a woman and dump her, without any consequences. Leaving me alone to face all the burdens and consequences of us making love.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. A man has responsibilities to face up to making love to a woman as much as a woman does, if not more. If he runs off and doesn’t accept those responsibilities, he’s not really a man. He’s just a coward. Which I’m not.”

Her face brightened.

“So…you’ll stay?”

“Yeah. I got skills besides love making, you know. I can go look for a job, and help you out with your bills through it. And, if you are in the family way, then I’ll be part of the family.”

“Thank you,” she said, hugging him. “That’s all I need to know.”

IV.

So it was that she went back to her old routine and her job when the weekend ended a day later. She stumbled through her usual routine like usual, getting her affairs in order with the usual lack of enthusiasm and heading for the door in a panic. About the only difference in her life now was Milo, who was still sleeping due to the earliness of the hour, and it was the only consolation she seemed to be able to give herself.

But something had changed inside of her. Instead of wanting to sink into the background, she wanted to challenge and control what was bothering her. Even to eliminate it entirely, if necessary.

On the bus, when confronted by the same people who annoyed her regularly, she confronted them back. When bothered by one of the men who had the volume up too loud on his device all the time, she ripped his headphones off his head and demanded- ordered- him to turn his volume down, or else she would tear his device away from him and jump up and down on it until it broke. This verbal display, accompanied by a dog-like growl in her voice and a couple of F-bombs, was enough to get people not only to notice her, but do what she said, in an intimidated way.

At school, after being confronted once again by the hooligans who made her life difficult, she finally snapped. With the growl and the profanity flying, she threatened to bash in the head of anybody who made any further noise with a baseball bat. This got the attention and response she wanted, and it quickly sped to the other classes who were using the room.

Eventually, her employer, who had not been anywhere near the library when Jenny cut loose, confronted her about the affair at the end of the school day, and reminded her about how it was against the policy of the school to use profanity at or threaten violence towards the students. As she should well know, by now.

That was when Jenny lost it.

“Do not keep addressing me like I was your child!” she snapped. “I AM A GROWN WOMAN! I do not need to be lectured by you, and everyone else here, in such a sanctimonious fashion about how I need to “adapt to new environments” because of my “disability”, because you have done nothing to help me do that in all the time I’ve been here. Not a fucking THING!”

She went further, declaring that she had done things for the school that had never been fully recognized, and that they had been damn lucky to have her there because of that. Furthermore, she openly insulted her employer by saying, if she had been kinder and gentler, to her and others, then she never would have gotten divorced in the first place. In conclusion, she said that she not only was not coming back to work tomorrow, but she was never again going to come back to “this shithouse” and the librarian could damn well handle her problems with the library on her OWN now!

The fact that the librarian was offended by Jenny’s tirade was made obvious by the angry glare she faced Jenny with. But she said nothing further, and Jenny left without another word on her part.

V.

It wasn’t until Jenny was on her second bus home that she realized the full magnitude of what she had done and said. And, perhaps, that it wasn’t entirely of her doing.

Milo was sitting on the couch in the living room when Jenny entered. The perfect time and place, she thought, for a confrontation.

“You look stressed,” he said, stating the obvious.

“I should be,” she answered. “I quit my job.”

“Oh. Why?”

“You should know!” she snarled.

Suddenly, Milo understood that she seemed to understand something about him now. Something that he previously thought he had kept hidden from her, but had proven not to be hidden at all.

“Yes,” he said, disguising any panic he might have felt under an impersonal mask. “I should.”

“There were several points during the day,” she said, tersely, “when I felt that I wasn’t acting under my own volition. When I felt I wasn’t really being myself, as it were. That somebody was controlling me, putting themselves inside my body and speaking for me, on my behalf, instead of letting me be who I really was. Like I was some sort of life-size ventriloquist’s dummy. During that time, I behaved completely out of character for myself. I was aggressive, impatient, vulgar, volatile. Masculine!”

He flinched at the last word. She came closer to him, enraged.

“I don’t know the specific details,” she continued, “but you, somehow, are able to make me act contrary to my nature. In doing so, you ruined my life and my career. And don’t think I’m not going to let you get away with it….you……you….”

“Best I shed my disguise, then,” he said, cutting her off.

“Disguise?”

Suddenly, Milo was gone, and, in his place, a demon from the farthest depths of Hell!

Jenny screamed and backed away from him.

“Who….or….what….are you?” she said.

“Surely,” the being said, “you know of the realm called Hell and the being called Satan, my master?”

Jenny swallowed hard and nodded.

“You mean….you’re….?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

She became angry again.

“How dare you!” she roared. “You tricked me!”

“That,” he answered, “is what we live for there.”

“And….now I might be carrying…….a child….by one of you. How can you possibly not care about this? You made me believe that you loved me. And took away my….!”

“Any mortal could do that to any other mortal. But we had more in mind than just that.”

“What, then?”

“I’m afraid people of your….mental condition….are a bit more susceptible to our illusions than others of your race. For you possess a major flaw that proved to be your undoing in the face of my charms.”

“Which was?”

“Gullibility. Plus your relative lack of cynicism about the world. You are willing to believe anything in the world is real if it is presented to you as the absolute truth. Therefore, it is easy for you to come into being possessed by the spirits and ideas which we embody, in both your body and your mind.”

“I suppose that’s right,” Jenny said, ruefully. Then her anger returned.

“So you saw me, from wherever it is you live, somehow, and you thought I could be your puppet. Just disguise yourself as some handsome guy and lay me, and that’d be that. Just like that philandering bastard Zeus in those old Greek mythology tales!”

“You are well-read for someone of your youth….”

“Don’t interrupt me! And then, not content with wrecking my body, you had the colossal nerve to wreck the rest of my life, too. For what purpose?”

Her wrath did not move him.

“I merely wanted to have some….what you humans would describe as “fun”?”

“Fun? You call fooling around with the life of someone totally vulnerable in body and mind, and willing to believe the truth about anything at the cost of her life, FUN?”

“No other way to describe it.”

“You BASTARD!” she roared. “I’ll KILL you!”

But it was he who killed her. As she lunged towards him, hands prepared to throttle his throat, he waved his own hands, and one of hers held her in place with a grip on her throat. This was enough time to allow him to eject a jet of flame that burned her to ashes where she stood, with an unearthly scream of pain, horror and regret.

“Pity,” he said, reflecting on what he had done. “She had the intelligence, the beauty, and, above all, the strength to become a completely perfect succubus, had she so wanted. But those defects in her brain held her back. Well, at least there’s more where she came from. One of these days we’ll find one of those women without any morality to her, and then the world will be sorry.”

He descended back to whence he came.