A Physics Prodigy From Ukraine

As it turned out, Brendon liked lemonade.
I didn’t understand.

He tapped the half empty can.
He read the label on my paper bag from the chemist.
He found the old scrap of a housewarming invitation, with mum’s note scrawled on the back.

Two months ago.
I’d known Brendon for two months.
I’d known ‘call-me-Jon’ for two years.
He wasn’t welcome in my house.

Brendon had no idea how weird he was making me.

“Did you go to that?”
I jumped.
It had been very quiet.

“Go where?”

“To our housewarming party.”
I didn’t.
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
I shrugged.

“I don’t really… like parties…”

“Oh.”
He turned his attention back to the paper bag.
I went limp with relief.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

Brendon poked the label on the bag.
“What are they for?”
The bag tipped over and four boxes slid across the table.
I didn’t even think.

My hand jerked.
Before I knew it,
I had swept everything off the table.
Including Brendon’s lemonade.

It hissed as it hit the floor.
Faster than the boxes did.
They clattered against the sideboard.

Brendon stared.

The table became very interesting in the ensuing moments.
And I decided that deep underground was the best place to be.

“That wasn’t a very good idea,” I whispered.
Brendon stood up and grabbed a cloth.
“No,” he agreed.

I pressed my face into my hands.
And I heard four boxes hit the table in front of me.

“It’s okay, Ryan.”
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t okay.
“If it’s any reassurance, I have no idea what Trazodone is.”