My head wasn’t in it, though. Since the article had come out, I’d been holed up in my apartment, avoiding the media. At least, that’s what I told my teammates and Sheridan when they called. The truth was, I was avoiding everyone.
I’d spent hours researching autism on my phone, and what I’d found was sobering. I didn’t exhibit every symptom of autism spectrum disorder, but I had several. My whole life, I’d known I was different. My mom had told me when I was growing up that people are made differently and I’d figured that was why people thought I was strange. I was just different from them—a loner who valued quiet and order in my life.
What if Keegan was right, though? What if, this entire time, I’d had a disorder that affected the way I interacted with the world?
Nash walked past the tub I was sitting in without saying a single word. He didn’t even look at me. It was a far cry from the last home game, when I couldn’t get my teammates to leave me alone.
I rose from the icy water and grabbed my towel, stepping out. Turning my phone off before the timer had gone off, I walked over to Nash’s locker.
“Hey, man,” he said. “I ordered our food. Got one of the front office interns getting the delivery for us.”
“You paid for it?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, you paid last time.”
Though he was right, I couldn’t help wondering if he felt sorry for me. I was wondering if my entire team felt sorry for me, actually. Same with my coaches. The only person I’d encountered since the story came out who treated me the same was Rosalina. I had a feeling she didn’t keep up with the news and had no idea what was going on.
I’d be seeing Sheridan tonight, and I was looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure. What if there was pity in her eyes when she looked at me? I didn’t think I’d ever be able to see her again if she felt sorry for me.
Agitated and eager to resume my usual vibe with Nash, I blurted out, “You’re a dick.”
He cocked a brow. “Because I paid for your food, I’m a dick?”
“No, just…you just are.”
“Go eat your Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, dipshit.”
“It is not time for that.”
He looked up at me. “Sit down.”
I sat on the bench next to him, both of us sitting with our elbows resting against our spread knees. Nash looked over at me.
“How you doing?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Fine.”
“You don’t need to bullshit, Lars. It’s me. Tell me how you’re really doing.”
I looked at the ground and exhaled hard. “I don’t know.”
“How do you feel about what Keegan said?”
Glancing side to side to make sure no one was within earshot, I sat up straight and spoke to him in a low tone. “You are confused about how I feel?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to assume I know. I want you to tell me.”
I scowled. “I do not like talking about feelings.”
“Do it anyway.”
I narrowed my eyes and said, “Fucking pissed.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I snapped.
“Because you think he made it up or because you think he might be right?”
Nash was my closest friend. Not just in St. Louis, but anywhere. If he ever needed an organ, I’d donate one in a heartbeat, but right now, I wanted to punch him.
Instead, I got up from the bench and stalked into the weight room. Fuck him. Nash was shit at making me feel better. I went over to a heavy bag, which was suspended from the ceiling by a chain, and started punching the shit out of it. Jab. Jab. Uppercut.
“I’m not the enemy,” a voice said from the other side of the room.
I looked over to see Nash, who had just walked in.
“Fuck off,” I clipped, still punching.
“Why does it matter?” He walked closer to me. “Keegan was way off about a lot of what he said. You’re not dangerous. But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”
I pushed the bag out of my way and advanced on him.
“Everyone is being different to me. They do not want to look at me. What Keegan said changed how they think of me.”
Nash shook his head. “No, it didn’t. It changed how you think of you. Keegan said a lot of shit because he wanted to stir the pot on his way out the door. But if he’s right, and you have autism, so what? It doesn’t change a damn thing, Lars.”
“It does!” I yelled and shoved his shoulders. “It changes everything!”
He covered the few steps of distance I’d created between us, unfazed. “How?”
“People feel sorry for me now.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you.”
“No one will look at me!” I pointed in the direction of the locker room. “And I…” I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. “I do not know what to say. What should I say?”