CHIP AND FAIL x
(Autistic author)
Plankton's antennae quivered, his
body trembling. "You want to help?"
he demanded, his voice a thunderclap.
"Then LISTEN!" His antennae shot
straight up, his body rigid with
tension. "Just because I freeze
up, it doesn't mean you get to
paw at me like a sea urchin
without a care in the world!"
Chip's screen filled with hurt, his
hands dropping to his sides. "But
Dad," he began, his voice trembling.
"I just wanted to make it better, seeing
you're not acting like an adult or even
a good dad with your dramatically fitful
tantrum." His words were like salt on
an open wound, but he didn't know
better, his innocence a blunt weapon.
Plankton's antennae snapped back,
his eye narrowing. "Out," he said, his
voice a glacial wind. "You don't get
to be in here right now."
Chip's eyes filled with shock, then
hurt, as the reality of his father's
words sank in. "But Dad, I didn't
mean..."
But Plankton was a wall of ice,
his antennae stiff and unyielding.
"No, get out," he repeated, his voice a
chilling wind that sliced through
Chip's protests. "I want you out of
my sight, Chip. Just go." His eye was
a storm cloud, threatening rain.
Chip felt the sting of his dad's
words, the coldness of his rejection.
He took a step back, his hand
dropping to his side. "But Dad,
I just want to..."
But Plankton's antennae remained
stiff, his voice unyielding. "Out," he
repeated, his eye a storm cloud
ready to burst. "You don't get to
stay here after saying that."
Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his own filled with a mix of hurt
and bewilderment. "But Dad," he
whispered, "I don't..."
But Plankton's antennae remained
rigid, his voice like ice. "I said,
OUT." His anger was a palpable
thing in the room, a force that
pushed Chip backward, despite
his father's physical stillness.
With a final look of hurt and
disbelief, Chip turned and left,
his footsteps echoing down the
hallway like the ghosts of all
the moments he had hoped to
share with his father. Plankton
watched him go, his heart a leaden
weight in his chest. Those words
Chip used might as well be
unforgivable.
Karen's eyes were wide with
concern, but she knew better than
to push him in that moment. She
knew his triggers, and how Chip
inadvertently said the wrong thing.
She knew he actually doesn't want
to bring attention, and
being told his pleas for boundaries
have been called tantrums, by his
own son, in his own room...
Karen knew how his moments of
'twitching' and 'freezes' and 'mishaps'
and 'venting' as he preferred to call
them, being called tantrums...
Plankton closed his eye,
his body trembling with the effort of
holding back his own tears.
Karen approached him cautiously,
her screen filled with worry. "Honey,
are you okay?" she asked, her voice
gentle as a summer breeze.
Plankton's antennae drooped, his body
slumped in the chair. "No," he murmured,
his voice thick with pain. "But I will be."
He took a deep, shuddering breath,
his chest rising and falling like the tides.
Karen watched him, her heart in her
throat. She knew the storm would
pass, but the wreckage it left
behind was always the same. She
reached out a tentative hand, her touch
feather-light on his shoulder. "Do
you want me to explain to Chip?"
she offered, her voice a whisper.
Plankton's antennae twitched, his
body still trembling. "No," he
managed to say, his voice a rasp. His
eye remained closed, his breaths
coming in shallow gasps.
Karen's hand hovered for a
moment before retreating, her
heart breaking for her husband.
"Okay," she murmured, giving him the
space he needed. She knew the
importance of respecting his boundaries
now more than ever. "He just didn't know
how much his wording hurt you.."
"I know," Plankton said, his voice
barely audible. "But that doesn't
make it sting any less." He took
another deep breath, his antennae
twitching with the effort of calming
his racing thoughts.
Karen's hand hovered over him,
wanting to comfort but knowing
not to push. "If he asks, can I tell
him? You know, so he doesn't..."
Plankton's antennae twitched again,
his eye finally opening. "Only if he
specifically asks about it," he said,
his voice stronger now. "Otherwise he
needs to understand for himself and
figure it out if he wants to help so bad."
Karen nodded, her screen filled with
understanding. She knew her husband's
pride and the importance of their
son coming to terms with his condition
without being forced to. She gave him
a gentle squeeze. "I'll be here," she said.
"For both of you."
The room remained silent
for a long moment, the only sound the
soft ticking of the clock on the wall.
Plankton took another deep breath,
his antennae slowly unfurling. "Thank
you," he murmured, his voice a whisper.
Karen's eyes searched his, her hand
still on his shoulder. "Do you want
to talk about it?" she asked, her voice
a gentle caress.
Plankton took a moment to
consider. The storm in his head
was beginning to abate, the pain
lessening with each passing
second. "I'd just like some
time to myself."
Karen nodded, her screen
filling with love and sadness.
"I'll make sure he doesn't bother
you," she promised, her voice a
soft whisper. She knew how
important it was for Plankton to
have space.
Chip stood in his room, the
closed door a barrier between him
and his father's pain. He felt like
a sea urchin thrown onto the
sharp rocks of misunderstanding,
his spikes no match for the
storm of emotions that had just
erupted. He couldn't help but
wonder if he had made things
worse. He had wanted to connect,
but instead, he had hurt the one
person he loved most.
His mind raced, trying to
piece together the puzzle of his
father's behavior. The words "autism
spectrum" echoed in his thoughts,
a mysterious code he hadn't
known existed. He had heard the
term before, but it had always
been a distant concept, not
something that could affect his
own life.
He sat down on his bed, his
hands shaking. He felt like he had
just been handed a treasure map
without knowing how to read it. His
dad's condition was a treasure, a
key to understanding the man he
idolized, but the map was written
in a language he hadn't learned.
With each passing second, the
weight of his father's words grew
heavier. He had never thought
about the world from Plankton's
perspective, had never considered that
his touch could be anything but
comforting. The realization hit him
like a tidal wave, knocking the
wind out of him.