KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 11
(Autistic author)
Plankton moves slowly
to the bed, his eye
fixed on the lamp. His
movements are deliberate,
his body still tense from
the recent meltdown. Sandy
watches, her heart in her
throat, as he fiddles with the
lamp, adjusting the
brightness until it's just
right, a soft glow that
doesn't assault his senses.
"Thanks," Plankton says,
his voice still flat, but
with a hint of genuine
appreciation.
Sandy's mind is a
whirlwind of thoughts. She
wants to help, to ease his
pain, but she doesn't know
how. "Can I do anything else?"
she asks, her voice tentative.
Karen looks up at her,
her eyes tired but filled with
gratitude. "Just give him
some space," she says,
gently. "Let him adjust."
They exit his room.
Sandy and Karen talk
about other things for
a bit before Karen decides
to check on Plankton, Sandy
following her.
They find Plankton
curled up in the center
of the bed, his body
wrapped tightly in the blanket
Karen had used to soothe
his meltdown. His antennae
remain still, his eye
closed. The room is
quiet, the only sound his
slight snores.
"He's asleep," Karen
whispers, her voice a
soothing balm to the
tense air.
Sandy nods, watching
Plankton's chest rise and
fall beneath the
blanket. His snores are
soft, a stark
contrast to the silence
that had filled the room
just minutes before.
Karen smiles softly,
relief washing over her.
"This is his safe place,"
she whispers to Sandy, her
voice filled with a quiet
pride. "His retreat when
the world gets too much."
Sandy nods, her eyes
studying the sleeping
Plankton with a newfound
compassion. She's seen
his fiery spirit, his sharp
mind, and now she's
witnessing his vulnerability.
The room is bathed in
a soft, warm light, the
kind that makes you want
to curl up with a good
book. Plankton's snores are
the only sound, a gentle
reminder that he's still
fighting, still with them.
Karen watches him sleep,
his face serene in
slumber. The harsh
edges of his autism
softened by the
oblivion of sleep. His
body, usually so tense,
is relaxed, the tapestry
of the blanket a gentle
wave that cradles him.
Sandy steps closer to the
bed, her heart aching for
her friend. The Plankton
she knew was a whirlwind
of chaos and cunning, but this
Plankton is a puzzle of patterns
and sensitivity. She reaches out
a tentative hand, brushing
his antennae gently. They twitch
under her touch, a silent
acknowledgment of her presence.
"I'm here," she whispers,
her voice a soft promise.
"I'll learn with you."
Karen smiles, a hint of
pride in her eyes. "Thank you,"
she says, her voice a
whisper. "He needs friends
now more than ever."
Sandy nods, her mind
racing with the gravity of
the situation. She's
seen Plankton's fiery spirit,
his sharp mind, but this
vulnerable side is new,
unexpected, and it breaks
her heart. She pulls back
her hand, not wanting to
disturb his sleep.
Karen moves to the
chair beside the bed,
sitting down with a sigh.
"It's going to be a long
road," she says, her voice
filled with both fear
and determination. "But we'll
figure it out together."
Sandy nods, her eyes
never leaving Plankton's
face. "We're all here
for you," she says, her voice
firm. "We'll get through this."
Karen's smile is
grateful. "Thank
you, Sandy."