CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS ii
(Autistic Author)
Chip's eyes fill with tears, and he looks
away, trying to hide his emotions. "I just
want to understand," he says, his voice
small.
"I don't need to explain myself to you,"
he snaps, his eye cold and distant.
But Chip is undeterred. He's seen his
mother's gentle touch work wonders on
his father during his seizures, so he
decides to try it. He reaches out and
places a small hand on Plankton's
shoulder. "It's ok, Dad," he whispers.
"You can tell me."
Plankton flinches at the touch, his
antennae stiffening. "I said it's not your
business," he repeats, his voice a low
growl. Karen can see the internal
struggle playing out on his face, the
effort it takes to maintain his anger when
all he really wants is to retreat into
safety.
"Plankton," Karen says softly, placing
her hand over Chip's. "It's ok."
Her voice is a gentle reminder of the
love that exists between them all, a love
that has grown and adapted to
Plankton's condition over the years. But
anger in Plankton's eye doesn't fade. He
stares at his son, his jaw tight, his
antennae quivering with barely
restrained frustration. Karen can feel the
tension in his arm, the way his muscles
are taut under her touch.
"It's ok," she repeats, her voice a
soothing balm. "Chip just wants to
understand."
But Plankton's anger doesn't dissipate.
He sits there, his eye still cold and
distant, his body rigid with tension. "I
don't need to justify myself," he says, his
voice a knife slicing through the air.
Karen's heart sinks further. This was not
how she had hoped the conversation
would go.
"Dad," Chip starts, his voice trembling. "I
just want to know why-"
"I SAID it's not your business," Plankton
barks, his eye flashing. Plankton's anger
is a storm that needs to pass before
they can talk it out, and Karen doesn't
want to force the issue here.
Karen nods at Chip, signaling for him to
give his father space. With a sad smile,
she stands up and takes the frisbee
from his hand. "Why don't you go play
for a little while?" she suggests, her
voice gentle. "Give Dad and me some
time to talk."
Chip nods, his eyes brimming with
unshed tears. He takes a few steps
away before turning back to look at his
dad. "I'm here if you need me," he says,
trying to keep the quiver out of his voice.
Then he runs off, the frisbee clutched
tightly in his hand.
Plankton's anger lingers like a fog
around him, thick and heavy. Karen can
see it in the way he sits, his shoulders
hunched and his antennae flat against
his head. She knows he needs a
moment to compose himself, to come
down from overstimulation.
The silence stretches between them,
taut with unspoken words and fear.
Plankton's gaze follows Chip as he
disappears into the playground, the
frisbee a small beacon of hope in his
hand. Karen waits, her heart aching for
the pain she knows her son is feeling,
the pain she feels herself.
When Plankton's breathing finally starts
to slow, she decides to break the
silence. "It's okay, Plankton," she says
softly. "Chip just doesn't understand."
Karen sighs, her eyes filled with a mix of
love and sadness. "You're just wired
differently. And Chip loves you for who
you are."
Plankton shakes his head, his antennae
still flat against his skull. "He doesn't
know like."
Karen's eyes never leave his face, her
expression a mask of patience and love.
"You're right," she says. "He doesn't
know. But that doesn't mean he doesn't
love you. He's just scared. And
confused. We all are sometimes."
Plankton's jaw tightens, and he looks
away, not meeting her gaze. "I don't
need his pity party," he mutters.
Karen sits next to him, her hand resting
on his knee. "It's not pity, Plankton. It's
just love and curiosity. He wants to know
so he can help, so he can be there for
you."
Plankton stays silent, his eye on the
distant playground where Chip is trying
to fit in with the other kids. The anger is
still there, a palpable presence that
makes the air around them feel charged.
"I know you're mad," Karen says, her
voice calm and soothing. "But you know
we can't keep this from him forever. He's
growing up, and he needs to
understand."
Plankton's eye still on Chip, but the
anger is slowly fading, replaced by a
heavy sadness. "I don't want him to tell
I'm a monster," he murmurs, his voice
barely audible over the rustling leaves.
Karen's heart breaks a little more.
"You're not a monster," she says firmly.
"You're a wonderful father, Plankton.
And Chip loves you. He just doesn't
understand."
Plankton's gaze finally shifts to her, his
eye glistening. "I don't know how to handle this,"
he admits, his voice
strained. "I don't know how to explain it
to him. I don't even understand it half the
time."
Karen reaches up and places a hand on
his cheek, turning his face to hers. "You
don't have to explain it all at once," she
says gently. "We'll do it together, ok?"
Plankton nods, his expression still taut
with tension. He takes a deep breath
and finally relaxes a bit, his antennae
rising slightly. "Ok," he murmurs.
Karen stands up, her hand still on his
shoulder, and together, they walk over to
the playground to collect Chip. His eyes
light up when he sees them
approaching, and he runs over, the
frisbee abandoned in his excitement.
"Dad, are you ok?" he asks, throwing
his arms around Plankton.
Plankton stiffens and gasps as Chip
embraces him in a hug.
Karen's heart clenches at the sight,
knowing how much her husband
despises sudden physical contact.
"Come on, let's go home," she says
gently, her hand on Chip's shoulder
guiding him away from Plankton.
The walk home is quiet, each step
punctuated by the thump of Chip's
sneakers against the pavement. Karen's
on her husband, his shoulders slumped
and his gaze cast downward.
As they enter the house, the familiar
creaks and groans of the floorboards
welcome them home. Plankton heads
straight for his workshop, the place
where he finds solace in the chaos of
the world. Chip trails behind, his eyes
glued to his father's retreating back.
"Dad?" he calls out tentatively. Plankton
pauses, his antennae drooping slightly,
but doesn't turn around. Karen can see
the turmoil in her son's eyes, the
unanswered questions weighing him
down.
"Why don't you go to your room, Chip?"
she suggests softly. "I'll talk to Dad."
With a nod, Chip heads upstairs, his
footsteps echoing through the house.
Karen watches him go before turning to
Plankton. "Let's go sit down," she says,
leading him into the living room. She
knows he'll need some time to recover
from the onslaught of emotions that
come with it.
In the dim light of the room, Plankton
slumps into the worn armchair, his eye
avoiding hers. Karen takes a seat on the
couch opposite him, her hands folded in
her lap. "We need to talk about this," she
says gently. "You can't just push Chip
away when something like this
happens."
He's silent for a long moment, his
antennae twitching nervously. "I know,"
he says finally, his voice gruff. "It's just...
I don't know how to deal with it. With him
seeing me like that."
Karen's heart goes out to him. She
knows the fear that comes with the
unknown, the fear of being judged, of
losing the ones you love because they
don't understand. She takes a deep
breath and speaks softly. "You don't
have to deal with it alone, Plankton.
We're a family. We're in this together."
Plankton doesn't respond immediately,
his gaze still fixed on the floor. But
slowly, his antennae start to rise, a sign
that he's listening, that he's starting to
come out of his shell. Karen waits,
giving him the space he needs.
Finally, he looks up, his eye meeting
hers. "I've always tried to be a good
father," he says, his voice barely above
a whisper.
"You are," Karen reassures. "You're the
best father Chip could ask for."
Plankton nods, his antennae relaxing
slightly. "But I don't know how to explain
it to him," he says, his voice tight. "I
don't want him to..."
"To what?" Karen prompts, her tone
gentle.
"I don't want him to think of me as... less
than," Plankton murmurs, his gaze
flickering towards the stairs where Chip
had disappeared. "To gawk, nor to
prompt.."
Karen crosses the room and takes his
hand, her touch a comforting presence.
"He doesn't think that," she says firmly.
"He just wants to know so he can help.
And so he doesn't have to be scared."
Plankton sighs, his shoulders slumping
further. "I know," he admits. "But it's
hard, Karen."
Karen nods, her grip on his hand
tightening. "I know it is, but we can't
keep this from him forever. He's going to
have questions, and he deserves
answers. Iโll let him back now."
With a deep breath, Plankton nods.