SANDY LEARNT A SECRET 2/2
The car ride home was
quiet, the only sound the
hum of the engine and the
occasional sniffle from Karen.
Sandy drove carefully,
avoiding potholes and
bumps that might jar
Plankton and extend his
absence. She glanced at
the rearview mirror, watching
his still form in the
backseat, his face a mask of
zoned out oblivion.
Karen sat next to
Plankton.
Her eyes never left his,
willing him to blink, to
move, to give any sign
that he understood.
They entered the
Chum Bucket home.
Sandy trailed behind,
silent as Karen takes
Plankton to their bedroom.
Karen laid Plankton down
on his bed, her hands
shaking slightly as she
pulled the blanket over
his unmoving body. She
tucked it in around him,
smoothing out the wrinkles
with tender strokes.
Sandy took a seat by
his side, her heart
racing from the weight
of what she'd just learned.
Plankton lay there,
completely still, his
breathing shallow yet
even. She studied his
face, trying to read the
secrets behind his glazed
eye. It was eerie, yet in a strange
way, like watching someone
lost in a deep, unshakeable
sleep.
The room was bathed in
soft light, the curtains
filtering the harshness of
the sun outside. The only
sound was the faint tick
of a clock on the
nightstand and the
even flow of air from the
air conditioner. It was a
contrast to the chaos of
his seizure, and Sandy
whispered, "You're safe here."
Her eyes remained on
his, waiting for the
slightest movement.
The minutes stretched
on, each second feeling
like an eternity.
Then, as if waking from a
deep slumber, Plankton's
eye flickered. His gaze
was unfocused, his pupil
slowly expanding and
contracting as he tried
to adjust to the light,
then confusion.
She watched with
bated breath as he
blinked a few times. "Where…
How?" he mumbled, his
voice groggy and distant.
"You had a… I saw you at the park,
Plankton," Sandy said, her
tone gentle. "You're home
now. You're safe."
Plankton's eye searched
her face, the confusion
deepening as he tried
to piece together what
happened. His gaze
drifted to the window,
where the world outside
was a blur of colors and
sounds.
"Sandy?" he asked,
his voice tentative. She
nodded, her hand reaching
out to squeeze his. "You're
safe, Plankton. It's just..."
But before Sandy could
finish, he sat up with a
start, his eye wide.
"What happened?" He
demands.
Sandy's heart skipped
a beat. "You had
a seizure at
the park," she explained.
Plankton's hand flew
to his face,
his antennae
drooping. "Oh, great,"
he murmured, his
cheeks flushing a
deep shade of red.
The realization of his
condition in front of
someone who didn't know
was clear in his
expression.
Sandy felt a pang of
regret. "It's okay,
Plankton," she
says, her voice
gentle. "It's just a part
o..."
"I know what it is!"
Plankton snapped, cutting
her off. His frustration
was palpable, his
body rigid with
embarrassment. "I don't
need you to explain it
to me!"
Sandy took a step
back, her hand
falling to her side.
"I'm sorry," she said
sincerely.
Plankton's chest
heaved with the
effort of holding back
his anger. He knew
Sandy was just trying to
help, but the sudden
spotlight on his condition
felt like an invasion of
his personal space.
"I'm sorry, I just..."
Sandy began, but
Plankton's frustration
was like a dam bursting.
"You just what?" he
countered, his voice
sharp.
Sandy's cheeks burned.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't
know how to help. I've never..."
"Seen me like this?"
Plankton finished for
her, his voice still edgy.
Sandy nodded, feeling
a knot form in her
stomach. "I didn't mean
to make you uncomfortable,
I just wanna ask you wh..."
"Don't," Plankton interrupted,
his voice brittle. "I don't
want to talk about it."
Sandy nodded, feeling
the sting of his words.
She backed away, giving
him space. "Okay," she said
softly. "But if you eve..."
"Just go," Plankton
interrupted, his voice
smaller now, his eye
watering. "I need some
time alone."
Sandy nodded,
swallowing the lump
in her throat. She knew
his anger was a shield,
a way to protect himself
from the curiosity and
sympathy he saw as
invasive. She backed out
of the room. She found
Karen seated on the couch.
"He ok?" Karen
asked.
Sandy nodded. "He's
awake. He's just...upset?"
Karen stood up, her
expression a mix of
relief and concern.
"I'll go to him," she
decided, heading to
the bedroom.
Sandy hovered by the
door as Karen went
in.
"Plankton," Karen began,
her voice gentle. "You're
safe, love. It's ok."
Sandy could see
the tension in Karen
as she approached
the bed, her hand
trembling as it reached
out to touch Plankton's
shoulder. His eye met
hers, and for a moment,
Sandy saw the raw pain
and embarrassment in
his gaze.
"Let's all go to the
living room," Karen
whispered, her voice
shaky. Plankton nodded.
In the living room,
the three of them sat
down on the couch,
the silence thick and
uncomfortable. Sandy
felt the urge to fill it
with reassurances, but
she held her tongue.
Karen took Plankton's
hand in hers, her
thumb stroking the
back of it in a
comforting gesture.
"I know it's hard," she
said softly, "but it's ok.
You're ok."
Plankton nodded, his
breathing still a little
rapid, his expression
guarded.
"Do you remember
anything?" Karen asked,
her voice a gentle
caress. Plankton's gaze
drifted to the floor. "Just
the park," he mumbled.
"The swings."
Sandy's eyes widened
slightly. "What do
you mean?"
Plankton's grip on the
couch cushion tightened.
"You don't need to know,"
he said, his voice
edged with irritation.
Karen gave a
resigned sigh.
"Plankton,
San..."
"I said I don't want to
talk about it!" Plankton's
voice was a sudden
explosion, echoing
through the room.
Sandy flinched at his
outburst.
"Plankton, please,"
Karen interjected, her
voice a calm contrast
to the storm of his
emotions. "Sandy's just
trying to understand."
But Plankton's anger
was a wall, impenetrable.
"I don't owe her anything!"
he snapped, pulling his
hand away from hers.
"It’s not her business!"
Sandy felt the sting of his
words. "I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to pry.."
Karen put a hand on
Sandy's shoulder, her
eyes kind. "It's ok. It's
new for you, and it's a
lot to take in. Plankton
just needs a bit of
space." She turned to her
husband, her voice
soothing. "Honey, Sandy's
our friend. She wants
to be there for us."
Sandy watched as Plankton's
body visibly relaxed, his
breathing evening out. His
eye flickered up to meet
hers, and she saw the
apology in it. He took
another deep breath,
his shoulders dropping. "I
know," he said, his voice
smaller now. "I'm sorry."
Karen's hand remained
on his shoulder, her
expression one of
understanding. "It's ok,"
she said. "We're all
trying to figure it out."