COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 5
(Neurodivergent author)
Karen returns to the bedroom,
where Plankton is already snoring
softly. She pulls the covers up to
his chin, tucking in gently.
She sits in the chair beside
his bed, never leaving
his peaceful form.
His chest rises and falls in the
steady rhythm of sleep, each breath
a testament to his resilience.
Karen watches him, her mind racing
with thoughts of what the future
holds, the challenges they'll face
together. But for now, she
forces herself to be still.
Plankton's antennae twitch in his sleep,
as if he's navigating the vast
underwater world of his dreams.
Karen watches him, full
of a love she didn't know existed.
The soft snores from Plankton's
tiny form are music to her.
In his sleep, the weight of the
world is lifted, his mind free
to explore the vast depths of his
underwater universe without fear.
Her gaze lingers on the soft
lines of his face, the tension
erased by the gentle embrace of
slumber. She smiles, her eyes
filling with tears.
The room is a sanctuary,
a bubble of quiet amidst the
storm of confusion and fear.
The shadows play across the wall,
telling silent stories of adventures
that await when he wakes. Karen
reclines in the chair, her hand
resting gently on his arm.
The nap stretches into an hour,
then two, the house a cocoon
of peace around them. Plankton's
body relaxes into the embrace
of the bed, his mind swimming
through a sea of tranquility.
Karen sits by his side, her hand
still resting on his arm. She
thinks of the Plankton she knew
before, his quirks and routines
now painted with the brushstroke
of understanding. Autism isn't
a label to shrink from, but a part
of him to be embraced, a piece
of the intricate tapestry that
makes him who he is.
In his sleep, Plankton starts
to murmur, his words a jumble
of half-thoughts. Karen leans closer,
trying to make sense of the words.
"...I...Karen...love."
Her hand squeezes his arm gently, her
thumb tracing circles on his skin. "I
love you too, Plankton," she whispers
back, her voice a soft lullaby.
Plankton's sleep-talk starts up again.
"...so many stars,"
his voice murmurs, his antennae
twitching with the vividness
of his dream. Karen smiles,
imagining the vast cosmos
that must exist in his mind.
Her hand continues its gentle
caress, her hand stroking his
antennae in a calming pattern.
"Shh, Plankton, it's just a dream,"
she soothes.
His snoring starts again,
a soft, rhythmic sound that
fills the quiet. She
smiles, her eyes still on
his peaceful form.
The world outside their
sanctuary seems to fade away,
its worries and noises muted by
the wall of their understanding.
Plankton's autism is a challenge,
but it's also a bridge that's brought
them closer, a shared secret
that only the two of them understand.
As Plankton sleeps, Karen's phone
vibrates with a text from her friend,
Hanna. "Dinner tonite?"
Her thumb hovers over the
keyboard, debating. Plankton's
diagnosis is still fresh, the
memory of his seizure a stark
reminder of the fragility of his
newly understood world. But she
knows the importance of keeping
up appearances, of not letting fear
or pity define them. With a sigh,
she texts back, "We'd love to. Your
place."
The evening stretches before them
like a tightrope, a delicate balance
between Plankton's needs and the
social norms that often feel
like a prison for him. Karen's mind
whirs with strategies to make it work.
A quiet place, familiar faces, a set
schedule. These are the keys
to a successful outing.
Gently, she shakes him awake,
her touch as light as a seashell
on the shore. Plankton's antennae
twitch, his eye fluttering open.
He looks up at her with sleepy
confusion, the world still a blur.
"Dinner with Hanna," she says,
keeping her voice low and soothing.
He nods, his body already tensing
in anticipation of the sensory
bombardment to come.
The car ride is a symphony of
preparation, the engine's hum a
soothing background to their
silent conversation. Karen's eyes
are on the road, but her mind is
on Plankton, his hands fidgeting
in his lap. She knows the world
outside is a minefield of sounds
and sensations, so she keeps
the radio off and the windows
up, creating a bubble of quiet
around them.
Plankton's breathing is shallow,
his antennae twitching with
each passing car. Karen reaches
over to squeeze his hand,
a silent reminder that she's
there. He looks at her, his eye
filled with a mix of fear
and gratitude. She smiles,
the warmth of her gaze a lifeline
in the chaos. "We're almost
there," she says, her voice a gentle
wave lapping at the shore.
They arrive at Hanna's house,
a beacon of light in the
deep blue sea of the night.
The door opens, revealing a
whirlwind of laughter and chatter,
the smell of garlic bread and
seafood stew wafting out. Karen
takes a deep breath, steeling
herself for the evening ahead.
Plankton's antennae quiver,
his eye wide at the unfiltered stimulation.
Hanna, oblivious to their new
dynamic, waves them in with a
cheerful smile. "You're just in time!"
she exclaims, her voice a trumpet
in the quietude of Plankton's mind.
Karen's hand tightens around
his, a silent reassurance as
the door closes, the sound
a thunderclap in his ears.
The house is a cacophony of
sounds and smells, a whirlpool
of sensory information threatening
to pull him under. He gulps,
his breathing shallow, his body
braced for the inevitable.
Hanna, their friend, is a whirlwind
of energy, her eyes sparkling
like the ocean's surface. She doesn't
notice the tension in Plankton's
body, the way he flinches at her
excited exclamations. She doesn't
see the way his antennae twitch,
his mind racing to keep up.
But Karen does. She's his
lifeline in this tumultuous sea
of social interactions. She nods,
smiling, as Hanna leads them
to the dinner table, her hand
squeezing Plankton's in silent
support. The room is a kaleidoscope
of colors, the clatter of silverware
and laughter a symphony of
overwhelming sound. Karen's eyes
dance over the room, noting
each potential trigger.
"Hey, ladies; meet Karen and Plankton!"
Hanna's enthusiastic introduction
was like a tidal wave crashing over
the quiet bubble they'd been in. Plankton
flinched, his antennae retreating like
snails into their shells. Karen offered a
forced smile, her eyes darting around
the room, searching for an anchor.
The dinner table was set with a
rainbow of plates and bowls, the smell
of garlic bread and seafood stew
overwhelming. Hanna's home was
a sensory minefield, but Karen was
determined to navigate it with grace.
Plankton's hand was cold in hers,
a silent plea for rescue.
As they sit, Karen scans the
table, noticing the flickering
candles, the glint of silverware,
and the clinking of glasses. Each
detail a potential trigger. She
whispers into Plankton's ear,
"Remember, if you need to, just tell me."
He nods, his antennae tucking
closer to his head.