Flicker and Snaps

The average person blinks roughly, 16 times a minute, 960 times in an hour, 23,040 in a day, and 8,409,600 times in a year. Given that I live to be 65, I will have blinked about 546,624,000 times in my lifetime.

To some people knowing those numbers off the top of your head would be impossible, yet, those people aren't me. I always have some stupid number, formula, or statistic, crammed inside my head. Math is something I have always been good at. You don't have to hear math, you don't have to talk to math. You just have to look at it, and allow yourself to absorb the information.

Math, and photography, were things I could understand very well. They did not involve loud noises or speaking to people. Heck, I did not even have to look at people.

That was something else that made me odd, I did not enjoy talking, I did not enjoy music, I did not enjoy any loud sound in general, looking at people bothered me, hell people in general scared the crap out of me.

So, the 12 hours and 62 minutes, with added stops included, drive from Chicago Illinois, to my new home in Taytum Georgia (a small town, which as my mother assured me, was in close proximity to Kennesaw- The closest town to our destination) was killing me. Taytum being such a small and pointless town that it didn't even show up as a place on our GPS... After we made it to Kennesaw we had to pull out some horrendous coffee stained map some processed product from the eighties no doubt.

All around me the never ending annoyance of this move poked fun at me. The sounds of the radio my mother played loudly, mixed into the high-pitched screech of her voice as she sang along or tried to talk to me, caused my head to hurt. The light from the windows which streamed into the car like a stage light, blinded me, causing my eyes to blink rapidly, I might need to add a thousand blinks to the earlier formula, just because of my mother's need to drive not fly. Early on I had learned that driving in cars involved special precautions, to insure that I would not have some sort of melt down. And, trust me my... Um-let's just say anxiety attacks- were one for the books. My mother always said I was a little overemotional, but none the less, here I was using my safety net of protectors.

Sunglasses and earplugs usually did the trick. Still though the trip hurt me, and I most likely would have a melt down, once we did get to our destination I would find somewhere quiet and alone to hide out.

I have never been normal, I liked things to be just so. I hated changes, and was unsure how to deal with things like this. I was not going to be able to adjust like most people could. I just couldn't do it!

I have Aspergers Syndrome, which makes my life a little different from the average person. I could speak (although I'd rather not), I did understand what people were saying, and my English was very good, but I don't like to be around people, talk, or have to experience new things.

I could go on not speaking for long periods of time, my current record was 1 week, 2 days, 5 hours, 32 minutes, and 15 seconds, without uttering a single word.

With the way things were going with my mother and I, I'd most likely top my last record in no time.

I had just gotten use to being alone with my mother, it's been just the two of us since my father's heart attack four years ago. I know it might be cold to say, but I loved my father more. At least he understood me- or tried to at least. I know my mother loves me deep down, but I also know she wishes I was normal, and tries to treat me as if I was any other girl, but I am not.

She doesn't understand my need to be behind a camera lens not in front of it. She doesn't understand why I would rather buy my cloths online instead of going to the mall with her. Most of all, she doesn't understand that things need to go the same way every day, for me.

I have a strict schedule, one that I've been following religiously since my father died those four years ago.

Clutching my Hasselblad 500 cm, the same one my father had always used, to my chest I picked at my arm skin. Scratching at it relentlessly, as I thought about what I should've been doing at the moment.

It was 4:55pm at my house right now, 5:55pm in our car, I should've been at my father's grave right now, 4:35-to-5:05, was dedicated strictly to taking time with him. That sounded weird, but I loved nothing more than to sit on his grave with his camera snapping a few pictures, it almost felt like he was still with me.

Looking down I noticed that my skin was bright red, sighing I pulled my hand away from the other one, I was trying really hard to stop doing that. Picking at my skin gave away that something was wrong with me, even before people got to know me. Normal girls don't have scratch marks up and down their arms...

Some people if not told that I was Autistic, may think that I was just eccentric, that was something I could live with. It's true that I am in fact eccentric, it's easy enough to tell, I mean, I had to do everything in groups of fives, or things would bother me.

Five squirts of soap, five ice cubes in my drink, five scrunchies on my hairbrush, and so on and so forth-you get what I'm saying.

I was just a very idiosyncratic person, that's all there was to say on the matter.

My mind had gone fuzzy, getting absorbed into information like this made paying attention to other things than what I was currently thinking about difficult to do. So I did not notice that my mother had pulled out my earplugs, until the horrible sound of mismatched fiddle, piano, and other musical instruments rang in my ears like a freight train.

Blinking rapidly I turned to my mother trying to grab my earplugs out of her hand.

Sighing I watched as my mother pushed down on the radio turning off the music that was causing me so much pain, then I watched as she slipped my earplugs into her pocket.

The minutes ticked away like a bomb ready to explode as I stared at her, hurt by her sudden actions.

"Jade, there's no way you can hear what I was trying to say when you have those things in." Her voice was tired, or annoyed, truly I could not tell, which made the conversation that much more painful.

Although, one of the reasons for having the earplugs in the first place was so that I did not have to listen to her.

"Honestly, Jade, I am doing this for us, a change in pace would be good for us both." She said sighing, as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. I watched intent on her fingers, as she did so, I had never noticed how long they were, or how thin. The pale white of her skin looked unnatural next to the black leather wheel. Calculating her taps, I estimated that she would tap once more in three seconds. I could not help but nod my head an inch in contentment as my calculation was proven correct.

"Jade, please pay attention for two seconds, I really need to talk to you!" Looking at her face I tried to apply the same look she was shooting at me, her lips were curved down, her eyes which flashed the same woodsy green as mine, darted between the road and my face.

I was not able to move my lips the same as her though, I was never good at facial expressions, or emotions for that matter. When I should have cried I would laugh, when I should have smiled I glared. Most of the time it was the same thing trying to decode someone else's facial expressions and tones as well.

"I was paying attention mom...." I said, breaking my silence, looking quickly at the clock I nodded to myself in acceptance. I had only reached 5 days, 7 hours, and 21 seconds, definitively not my record.

"Oh, sorry, I am just a little worried I guess, but sweety I am telling you, if I didn't think that this move would be good for you, I wouldn't have said, yes." My mother's eyes filled with tears, I tried my best to understand her. I really did, but it was hard. I rolled my shoulders awkwardly, I hated tears-I just couldn't understand them... Little droplets of water poring down someones face. Surprisingly they don't always fall because of sadness, I've been told people cry because their happy, angry, and sometimes just to cry in the first place... How people expect me to understand how they feel when they send out such odd indicators I will never know.

I knew what she was saying was true, but it was easy being mad at her. I knew she loved Chad, I could tell that from the moment she brought him home after their first date last year. Although I was not good with emotions, I knew that she loved my father, and the look she gave Chad was the same she always gave him.

I wished someday I would be able to use that look with someone, not likely but I really-really-really, wished it would happen.

I knew that Chad was good for her. He was nice, almost too nice. He had met my mother at work. Although Chad lived in Taytum, which was exactly 43 minutes outside of Atlanta, not including traffic, he had been in Chicago on a business trip, Chad worked at the sister company to my mother's, as the CEO of his Atlanta based company, he had felt obligated to check how things were running in Chicago.

My mother being the leading consultant to the Chicago branch, quickly showed him exactly what was going on, and in turn after what I assumed to be a very nice dinner, things became serious.

There had been a few guys like Chad before. My mother was a very successful and pretty woman after all, but none had been as good as dad. It may sound corny but I did not take Chad serious, or even bother to waste even one of my precious words on him 'til I heard my mother.

Now, normally at home I would always wear my earplugs, the city was too loud not to do that after all, but it just so happened that one of my earplugs had fallen out of my head when I walked by my mother's bathroom.

What I had heard that day, next to her door, changed everything. While I was bending over to pick up my treasured earplug, I heard the sound of my mother singing. I know that most people do sing in the shower, or at least I assume they do. Yet, I had not heard my mother sing since my father had died.

Swallowing I blinked a few times, to allow myself to come back to the present and understand the words my mother was speaking to me.

"Jade, I think that we should try some new things because we are moving, if we fix somethings with the move, it might be easier for you to adjust when you do." Her voice rang out, bothering me, her words scared me. I pulled my father's camera to my chest like a security blanket, its cool hard edges poked at my skin, although it hurt slightly it helped me feel better about her words but only until the next words graced her lips.

"I think it would be best if we got rid of the earplugs, you don't need them any more. We will be living out in the country, basically." Her words cut through me like a hot knife through butter. How could she make me give up my safety net, of sorts?

I've always had earplugs, I can't remember not having them. How would I be able to be happy without them?

"No, give them back, now!" I said reaching for her pocket. I was not going to give them up without a fight.

I noticed that my mother's eyes had widened and her lips had parted, as if she was at a loss for words. Her hands that I now disliked multitasked, one steered, the other pushed my hands away from her pocket.

"Jade-Meredith-Smithson, you stop acting like a little girl this instant! This is for your own good, you need to start acting your age! You are 17 years old, and I expect you to act as would any other girl your age! No more of this sillyness, hunny, I love you but you need to stop being so stubborn and understand that somethings will change, no matter if you live in that little bubble world or not! You cannot continue to live in a deaf-mute world." My mother added, something different than before was in her eyes as she did. It took me a moment to realize what that look she was now giving me meant, and when I did I frowned but stopped reaching for my earplugs, because she would not be giving up as well.

"I hate you," I said, turning my back on her. That was the easiest, and least long thing I could have replied to what she said. It only cost me about 6 heart beats out of my life, the average human heart will beat over 2.5 billion times in a lifetime.

I felt that a small amount of beats was a good indicator of how long I spoke, most of the things I would say were 20 beats or less, the human heart beats about 2 times in a second, so it should be obvious that I liked to keep conversations short, and very to the point.

"I am sorry that you feel that way Jade, but as your mother I am only doing what I think is best for you." My mother replied, facing the window I watched as small houses dotted the scene, we had been off the interstate for a while now, and were on some back roads.

"Dad would have-" I started only to stop myself, mom had made it clear that she did not want me to keep bringing up dad like he was still alive, I knew when I did that it hurt her, but sometimes I could not help but do it anyways. Maybe, I was trying to punish her for not being dad?

"Well he isn't here anymore, and I am in charge, you need to realize this Jade, he isn't coming back. It isn't your fault, just as it is not my fault or Chad's fault, it's no one's fault, Jade." She said I could hear the sighs in her voice and the sounds of the tires as they crunched over the mixture of clay and gravel that paved the road.

For a few moments silence ensued, and it wasn't the kind that I enjoyed.

Looking down at my feet I forced my eyes away from the window, which showed how very different things were going to be.

No more would I be able to enjoy the sight of large buildings, and buses, no longer would I be able to enjoy the jerky feeling that came along with riding the train around town. Now I would be stuck in this horrible isolated place, the smell alone from just having my mother's window cracked was killing me. The area held the scent, like a memory of a trip I took to a lake with my father. That, and the smell of farm animals, both of which were equally unpleasant.

Maybe, all country places had that raw-grungy smell? It was in the realm of possibility, that was just me of course. Sometimes my sense of smell could be a tad'bit melodramatic when it came to such things. The smell of Vinegar alone was known to make me puke. While the strong smell of peppermint calmed my nerves especially well.

Reaching down I pulled out a small peppermint from where I had placed it near the top of my black and white, hello kitty, high-top canvas sneakers. Although, the shoes may seem childish, I thought they were really cute and stylish! Plus, I always had a few peppermints on me at all times, and because I was wearing a skirt, I had no pockets.

Glancing up as I fiddled with the wrapper, I noticed my mother was giving me an odd look. I thought that this look may have been a slightly good one, because usually when something was wrong, the corners of her eyes would be turned down, yet like her lips her eyes were turned up.
My theory was added too, by the chuckle that left her lips. That chuckle was always a good sign, at least in my book.

I did my best to smile back at her, I was sure as I tried to copy the look she was giving me that I was actually doing it right, although it felt weird, the look she was giving me only became brighter so I assumed I had guessed right.

"I have never seen someone love peppermints so much in my life Jade, I think it is safe to say you love them even more than your father." Her voice had a somewhat recognizable touch of humor in it that I understood well enough.

Nodding slightly, my forced smile collapsed off my face at the mention of that, I allowed my lips to go back to their normal non-smiling yet, non-frowning position again.

It was true that my father loved peppermint, that was I think the reason I loved it so much in the first place. The smell, texture, and taste of it reminded me of my childhood, it reminded me of him.

My heart stung a little at that thought, causing me to pull my camera closer to my body, now in a death grip.

"We are almost there if you are wondering, Jade, I just know you are going to love it. When I called Chad earlier he told me that our things had arrived earlier, he also told me that the first thing Gage and Cicil did after helping unpack a few things was set up your darkroom, isn't that just the sweetest thing ever?" My mother was gushing now, although her smile that she had been just giving me was large, at the mention of Chad's name, it had become even bigger.

Annoyance ran rampant in my veins. I was unsure if it was over the fact that my new step-family had been in my things, or that my mother seemed more happy talking about my new step-father than me.

I had only met Gage and Cicil once, and that had been the during the weekend Chad had proposed to my mother. Although my mother was not going to marry Chad for another month, I felt the need to start to call them as they were in the present, it would only make things easier later on.

Gage was something else, annoying, brash, emotional, rude, totally not understanding, and above all loud. I hated loud people. I mean, why did they have to speak so loud in the first place? It wasn't like I couldn't just as easily hear them if they spoke in a normal tone, or even better, whispered!

Gage was one of those pretty-boys, the kind that you knew had a few girls on the side back home. He had felt the need to yelltalk to me all that weekend, it never ended I tell you! Then of course I was expected to answer back to him, I hated his voice, and I did not understand the emotions behind the things he would say until his voice was booming at a painful level. My best friend Clara, had found him charming and funny, another reason I had disliked him.

Now that Clara was gone it would be just me stuck around him, something that I could not help but grimace at.

Cicil was like me, not Autistic of course, but quiet, and not much for conversation, except to state a point, or to say something that was worth his words. He had the same dark black hair as Gage, and they were relatively the same size, around 5'9 or so. Cicil did have blue, not brown eyes unlike Gage though.

I had never been exactly told why, but something had happened to Cicil. I was not sure what. I knew something had to have happened though, simply because Cicil was not Chad's son, he was his nephew by his marriage to his late wife Rebecca.

Now, that I thought about it, I actually really wanted to know his story. It would at least give me something to do, now that my schedule was screwed up, and hanging out with Clara was not in the picture anymore.

Although I was not a social person I did miss Clara, she was my one true friend. She understood that not everything needed to be said, and that sometimes friendship can be more of a casual laid-back, sort of thing.

I mean sure, I talked to Clara, in fact I probably told her more than anyone else about things. Yet, she understood me wholeheartedly and was not judgmental about the things I would do, or the way I would act. She was a good person, and as we pulled into a driveway, what I guessed was my new driveway, I idly wished she was here, if not to comfort me then to at least be with me.

Because, whatever was coming next I knew I would be facing it alone.