I knew at a very young age that I wasn’t normal. I may look normal. I may act normal. But I am not normal, not in the head at least. Wait, that sounds bad.
When I started kindergarten, I was able to pick out all 50 states on a map. By first grade, I knew all of the names of all of the students and teachers in my entire school. My dad and I always watched football on TV together. When I turned seven, he took me to my first Miami Dolphins game. I started calling the plays even before they were made. And by the time I was 10, I could tell you what happened on any day of my life without thought. I had total recall, no hesitation, no conscious thought.
I’m not autistic. I’m not a savant or a genius. It’s more than a case of photographic memory. In fact, I don’t memorize anything. I have Hyperthymesia. Plain and simple: If I live it, hear it, or see it – I remember it. No exceptions.
I knew at a very young age that I wanted to be a cop. Not just any cop, but a detective. Chasing bad guys and taking down mobsters. But like my good buddy, Mick, says, “You can’t always get want you want.”
So instead of arresting criminals and keeping the streets safe, I am dancing in a dingy club, making a living shaking my ass and pulling dollar bills out of my crack. Not the life I grew up wanting to lead. Not what I expected or hoped for myself.
But maybe if I wait it out. If I hang tight, it will all be worth it in the end. I will get what I came for and move on. I will earn my future and pave my own way. What is that he says? “If you try sometimes…you get what you need.” From your lips to God’s ears, Mick.
I turn to get into my car and I can feel Jordan at my back. He’s so close, I can feel his body heat. It’s clear that he doesn’t want this night to end as much as I don’t. I’m dying for him to kiss me dirty, but I know when the time is right it’s going to be magical. I slide into the driver’s seat and he leans in for one last kiss. This time on my cheek. He’s getting closer! He stands back up and starts to back away, hands in surrender.
“You better go before I lose control. I’m barely holding on here, Violet.”
I smile. Just his admission is enough. But then I see his hand trying to discreetly adjust himself, and now I know my earlier thoughts were correct. I’m scandalized and pleased at the same time. Knowing – seeing proof – that he is turned on because of me, lights my body on fire, and my panties are suddenly very wet.
“Goo…Good night!” I say one last time, stumbling over my words and too embarrassed by my body’s reaction to make eye contact. I really need to go before I do or say something stupid.
“Soon, sweetheart,” is the last thing I hear from his lips, and I spend the night wondering what exactly he is promising.