The Black Hole at the Counter

The Black Hole at the Counter

By Ryan L.

Rated G

It's 5:00 in the morning as Brian awakes from his slumber. He blinks once. Only once. He never blinked much. He rose from his bed and strode into the living room where he stood in the middle by the dinner table and rose up and down on his toes 5 times. It had to be 5 times, or he wouldn’t feel right and would have to do the whole thing over again and again and again. At least 5 times. Just to be sure nothing happened.

By 6:00 in the morning Brian grew anxious. Thoughts of his mom and dad not waking up in time bombarded his mind over and over like a drum sounding the call of something ominous and cruel. The thoughts upset him so much he paced to the sliding glass door which led into the yard and back to the dinner table 10 times, all the while his head tumbling and turning with horrible thoughts of missing out on time. So concentrated was he on whether or not his parents would rise in time, Brian lost count. Deeply upset, and jumping 6 times in the air with his hands held tight against his hair, Brian started all over again.

6:30 came and Brian booted up his computer and sat at the desk. He searched the net and found some of his favorite videos of video game spoofs. He watched until he came to the funny parts, a man run over by a car another player was driving, another man sticking a grenade to an unsuspecting player and shoving him off a ledge where the poor player’s soldier tumbled and twirled in mid air, one player racing on the track and botching a turn, his car crashing and flipping over and over again, different parts in the games where the characters make funny noises and faces. All of this, Brian paused and hit play over and over and over. Sometimes he watched the same thing 7 to 10 times in rapid succession, almost creating a built-in lag effect of the funniest moments. On one particular video, by pausing at the right moment, the character in the game appeared to be saying “Soy. Soy. Soy” over and over, which proved to be especially funny. Brian laughed and rocked in his chair with delight and decided to watch the video and repeat the process another 15 times. But it could not be 16.

At 7:00 in the morning, Brian could hear his parents stir in their bed. First his mom came out and mumbled a quiet “Good morning.” And proceeded to make some tea. Next, Brian’s father walked half asleep into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He too managed a “Morning” to Brian and kissed his wife on the cheek. Brian didn’t say “Good morning.” But inside his head, his brain felt it. It felt “Good morning” more than he could actually say it.

Brian was overjoyed his parents awoke in time. He paused the newest funny video he had been repeating at exactly the right spot, pushed back his chair, and began jumping in the air. He did this 5 times while squeaking. It always felt good to do this when something good happened. But what his dad asked next was upsetting and had nothing to do with what Brian was thinking about.

            “Son, do you know what you want for breakfast?” His dad asked.

            “Today is Saturday.” Brian replied.

            “We know, hun. But that’s later. You need to answer him.” Brian’s mom said. She poured some tea into two cups and placed them on the table.

            “We’re going to Pete’s Pizza today. You said last Wednesday we’re going there for dinner tonight. I remember you said that. You told me we could at 3:32 while we were in the hardware store. Do you remember telling me that? I remember.”

            “Yeah, bud. We remember. But like Mom said, that’s later. What do you want for breakfast?” Dad said.

            “I want pancakes, of course.” Brian said.

            “Again? Don’t you wanna switch it up a bit? I could make some French Toast? Or waffles? Maybe toast and eggs?” Dad replied.

            “Change is good. Sometimes you should try new things.” Mom said.

Brian hated when his mom and dad tried to get him to eat new things. He never understood why they insisted he eat something other than pancakes on Saturday. It was Saturday. Saturday is pancake day. Why change it? Eating something else doesn’t make it better. And keeping it the same made him feel good.

Brian’s dad made pancakes for Brian and toast and eggs for himself and mom. The family ate in relative silence. Brian’s dad read over a few choice columns of the paper. Brian’s mom wrote out a to do list and checked her phone for messages from the office. Brian inhaled the sugary-goodness of the syrup-drenched pancakes and only stopped long enough to twitch his fork hand 5 times. It made him feel like everything was on track. Once in a while he shook his hand 10 times to for added reassurance. His mom told him to try and be mindful of when he did it and stop if he could. But whenever he did, he felt sick in his stomach and he worried that bad things might happen. He looked to his dad, still reading the paper.

“Dad?” He asked.

“Yeah, bud?”

“Did you know if there was an ocean big enough, the planet Saturn would float in it?”

“Yeah, you told me many times.”

“And did you know that if two ordinary pieces of metal touch in space they’ll get stuck together without any coating?”

“Yup, you told me that too a bunch of times.”

“And there are around 14 known black holes. People think that eventually black holes will suck up the whole universe. But they’re wrong. Did you know they’re wrong? I do. Because black holes only suck up things that cross their event horizon, so they couldn’t suck up the whole universe. But people don’t know that. I know that. And also, black holes can suck up other black holes. Most people don’t know that. But it’s true. Do you remember me telling you about that three years ago? It was September second three years ago during grandma’s birthday when we were eating pie. Do you remember me telling you that? And another thing most people don’t know is that you can’t really see a black hole because they suck in light.”

“Hun, you keep telling us that. We’re glad you know so much about space, but people don’t like talking about the same thing over and over again. You should try talking about other things. Or try talking about something they want to talk about once in a while.” Mom said.

“Why can’t I talk about space if I want to talk about it?” Brian asked.

“We’re not saying you can’t. But people like to talk about different things. It’s something you have to get used to. Don’t forget to think about other things to talk about. Sometimes people just get bored talking about the same thing.” Dad said.

“Okay.” Brian said. But he didn’t feel okay. He squeaked and twitched his ands. First 3 times. Then 5 times. After the third set of 15 twitches, his mom gently placed her hand on his and gave it a small pat. She told him to keep eating his pancakes. This made Brian want to twitch even more.

“Hey, mom?”

“Yes?”

“Did you know that in movies where there’s space battles they’re wrong?”

“How do you mean?”

“Because you wouldn’t be able to hear anything in outer space.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because there’s no air and so your voice can’t make vibrations so no one could hear you.”

“Wait, didn’t you tell me that last week?”

“Monday while you were driving me to school.”

“That reminds me, did you finish that math homework?” Dad asked.

“Yes.”

“Want me to take a look at it?”

“No, I understand it. But I get mad because people keep asking me why I’m in the math class if I’m not doing the same work. They say it’s easier.”

“Don’t you worry about that. You’re each doing what you can handle. The math they’re doing is harder, but do they know as much about space as you do?” Mom said.

“No.” Brian said.

“Well, we’re all good at different things, right? We’ve talked about that.” Dad said. “Anyhow, I’ll be checking on grandma today, see how she’s feeling. Mom has some errands. You wanna come with me, with her? Or do you wanna hold the fort here?” Dad asked.

“This isn’t a fort. It’s a house.”

“I know, son. Just a figure of speech.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Alright, if you insist. There’s cold cuts and cheese and lettuce and tomatoes in the fridge for a sandwich when you’re hungry.” Mom said.

After dinner the family cleared the table, washed the dishes, and set out. Brian went back through some funny videos and then played some video games. Only the ones he was good at. The fighting and shooting games with the funny characters with their own sayings. He always played video games while standing and hopped up and down when he was winning. After a particularly invigorating match against a fighter on the hardest difficulty, Brian paused the game and rubbed his hands against the carpet. It made him feel better and calmed his nerves. He squeaked, satisfied with his victory, and went on to play another.

Around 5:00 P.M. a disturbing thought occurred to him. The last time they went to Pete’s Pizza his mom and dad wanted him to place the order. That was too much pressure. They were doing it to test him. To see how good he was. It wasn’t very nice. He knew they could do it better. They just wanted to force him into doing something he didn’t want to do. He knew it. They said they were just trying to get him used to doing things on his own but he knew they were just messing with him. The dread built inside him, clawing at his innards and gorging on his psyche like a pack of ravenous wolves. The thought consumed him. He rejected everything else. What else could he do? The bad thoughts wouldn’t go away. His heart pounded and thundered in his chest. His palms began to sweat. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of perspiration.

In his mind, all he could think of was the last time they went. It was a Sunday. Two weeks ago at 6:23 P.M. He was already irritated because they went on a school night and he wanted time to simply relax and pace the living room and watch a few vids before bed. They didn’t even tell him they expected him to place the order. The three of them walked in and were greeted by the lady he was supposed to say “Hello” to even though they had met her before. Dad turned to him at the counter and said, “Alright, tell her what you want.”

Brian didn’t know what to do. He looked to his dad for an answer. It was an outrage. Didn’t they always get a large pepperoni pizza? They got it every single time, why would Dad ask him? He should know. In fact, he knew his dad knew what to order. But when the lady at the counter looked to him expectedly, Brian couldn’t find the words. He didn’t like the way the lady looked into his eyes. It made him uncomfortable. He adverted her gaze and rocked back and forth on his feet, his hand held out in front of his forehead as if preparing to deflect a blow. The woman was still waiting for him. They all were. His mom began to urge him to say something. His dad had that look in his eyes. Brian never knew if it was impatience, or if it was sad, or if it was him apologizing to the woman. Brian could never really tell with facial expressions. And the lady at the counter had the strangest look in her eyes. And if she were smiling, why did he get the feeling it wasn’t a good smile?

The thought snapped from within, a concussion reverberating within the confines of his skull and he winced as the shrapnel pinged and sheared against his brain. “I don’t know” was all he could think to say. And when the anger got the better of him, he snarled at his parents. “Why can’t you do it? Why do I have to? You’re the ones who should do it. You know what we get. Why should I do it? I shouldn’t be expected to do it”. And as he looked on, there was something inside telling him his reaction was irregular. Facial expressions were hard in general, but even Brian could tell his parents didn’t like his response. And the lady at the counter even looked scared. If someone’s eyes were suddenly big enough, Brian could tell they were scared.

Brian thought back on the long discussion they had when they got home. How his parents explained what they were trying to do. He was glad they understood why he was angry, but upset that they didn’t think they did anything wrong. He didn’t like it when they told him he has to really think about his thoughts and determine if what he as thinking was rational or irrational. When he did this, it all made sense. But only when he had enough time to think about it.

As soon as the clock struck 5:30, Brian began to pace the living room. He hopped and squeaked and rocked back and forth over and over again. He didn’t even think to count how many times he did it to be safe and make sure nothing bad happened. It felt hard to breathe. Something pressed against the inside of his chest. He could feel it there, but couldn’t get it out.

The front door opened and Brian could hear his mom walk in with groceries. He helped her place everything in the kitchen pantry and the fridge. 10 minutes later his dad returned with some tools and books from Grandma’s. The family got in the car and drove 10 minutes to Pete’s Pizza. By 5:51 they were inside and at the counter.

Brian clenched his hands. He tried not to, tried with all his might and fortitude to suppress it, but the squeaks came and he hopped up and down 5 times. People were staring again. He hated that. He didn’t see anything wrong with what he was doing. How could something that makes him feel better be a bad thing?

The same lady stood at the counter, ready to take their order at the cash register. Brian looked to his parents and knew instantly. They wanted him to try again. He knew it. He knew they would do this to him again. Everyone forced him to do things he didn’t want to do. Always testing him. Why should he have to order when the lady would understand them better than she would understand him?

As Brian stood there, rocking back and forth. Squeaking like a small duck or rusted flute, his hand rose back over his forehead. Just like last time. He took three small hops and squeaked a little louder. He closed and eyes so the lady couldn’t look into them. To his right, he heard someone laugh. It sounded like a little kid. Somewhere in the room Brian heard a little girl say, “Mom, why is that boy like that?” The woman told her daughter not to look at him.

“Brian?” Dad said.

“She’s waiting for you, Brian. You can do it.” Mom said.

Brian opened his eyes and peered around his hand covering part of his face just enough to see his parents and the lady at the counter. They stared at him. Those expressions the same as last time. What did they mean? Angry? Sad? Were they getting impatient or annoyed at how long it was taking him?

In his parent's eyes Brian could see that there was indeed something sad. He had never noticed it before. The rest of their faces looked normal. They even smiled at him. But something was different. Something he couldn’t see. Like a black hole. He looked to the lady at the counter and saw a similar look. Hers wasn’t like his parents. Hers was different, a deeper façade he couldn’t quite place. The revelation struck him like a blow. The expression he saw was that of one who is uncomfortable. Yes, that was it. And his parents, concerned.

The lady at the counter continued to stare with that horrible look in her eyes. The type of uncertainty and pity that had its way of slithering and breaching the surface of social protocol and etiquette. And Brian hated it. He winced and threw his hands up over his head again and tugged at his hair as another thought sprung to life in a single cathartic moment.

Brian didn’t hate her. And he wasn’t really upset with his parents. The order was simple. I want a large pepperoni pizza for here, please. And thank you. That’s all there was. Why so hard? Why couldn’t he do it? His mind wouldn’t let him.

Brian hopped and squeaked and rocked 5 times. 10 times. Faster. Faster. Faster to escape it. Dad placed a hand on his shoulder. Mom placed a hand on his back and rubbed it reassuringly.

“It’s okay, bud. Next time.” Dad said.

NO

“I want a large pepperoni pizza, please. For here. And thank you.” Brian said.