If Tylenol Could Make a Mind Like Mine, We'd Have Flying Cars

“Hello”

“Hi Adnan, how are you feeling?”

“I’m sick, I feel lonely, and I wanted to hang today, but I'm sick, so I can't. I want company and I feel isolated. But I can't go outside because I have COVID.” Adnan whined.

I turned my little Buick onto Brunswick and Newark while he complained. I was in desperate need of a sourdough loaf from Darke Pines, the best butcher in Jersey City. 

“How long have you been sick, habibi?” I inquired. 

He’d told me early this morning that he tested positive for COVID, but I actually remembered him being sick last week too. 

“A little over a week…I was fine until yesterday. I moved all my furniture in on Tuesday, then I went to this JP Morgan mixer, then I went to pick something up from Facebook market place, then I got a ticket for parking in front of a hydrant, so I took my car back to Union City, and I guess I exhausted myself because now I feel like shit.” Adnan rambled. 

“Hm, well you're not contagious anymore. So, if you'd like, I'll come check on you and spend some time.” 

“Yay. When will you get here?” He said happily. 

“Give me like an hour. Do you want some soup or anything?” 

“Soup would be great.” I could hear him smiling through the phone.

“Okay, I'm just gonna get the soup, stop by my friend’s new bakery, then I'll be over.”

“Do they have bread?” He asked wishfully. 

“No, but I can get you some bread.” I laughed. He was being such a baby. 

“Yay” he said tiredly.

The conversation went on with some dialogue about where I should get the soup and him trying to get me to move as fast as possible to spend time with him. None of it was really important or story altering. He was just being a big whiner baby and I was indulging it because I suffer from the 27 year old urge to be the caretaker of a household. Taking care of a sick man that is otherwise capable and independent who is letting himself be a baby in front of me is one of my favorite maladaptive day dreams. I could hardly contain myself as I made my way to him. 

Kat, ever entertained by talk of our former classmate, had to be updated on the way. Kat uses they/them pronouns, they are only one person.  Their only response was. “He's actually crazy like I cannot believe he's a real person”. I too struggle to believe that he's a real person…Although I've heard similar reviews about myself, I really think Adnan is far stranger than I am. No offense. He's stranger than I am because he still sort of tries to fit in with neurotypicals while I've fully committed to only hanging around other neurodivergents and/or neurotypicals that like me for who I am. He does a lot of calculating, and pretending, and equivocating that clearly leaves him exhausted and empty. He’s always saying that he's different with me than he is with others, that he makes himself more palatable for the average person. In k-12 he hung around the dregs of our grade’s coffee pot of intellegence. I would say they were “popular”, but there were only like 75 kids in our entire class, so I don't think popularity really could exist. What they really were was sexually active at a young age and unsupervised by their parents. He was none of those things and they were very mean to him, yet he kept interacting. I never liked those kids and I was particularly unwelcoming to them. I enjoyed learning, I hated disruptive behavior, and I had no tolerance for social standards. I wasn't edgy though, I would never assign that word to myself, I was just reclusive and reserved. As a child, because I'd found out that my grandfather would die one day, I resolved to never become close to anyone that I didn't already know for fear of having to mourn more people. I had friends though; Kat, Mallory, Brittyn and a few others. Mallory was known for her congeniality, so she was adored by everyone, but like the rest of us she preferred not to grow up too fast. Kat and I were just flat out anti-social. We ate lunch in the middle school library not because we felt outcast, but because it was quiet enough for us to read and discuss our books there without interruption. Writing this down feels silly. I'm worried that I sound like I’m trying to say I was “sooooo different” when I'm not. What I'm trying to say is that spending your youth among people who accept you and adore you for who you are with no regard for what others think makes a big difference in your adult life. Adnan hung out with the children in our grade that basically abused him despite spending time with him. They pressured him to get a nose job and made humiliating comments about it. They called him annoying behind his back. They faced him with thinly veiled phoniness. I noticed him because he was brown and I was raised to be among other brown people first and foremost. I paid attention to how he was treated and told my mother about it. She would say things like “that's how they will treat you if you aren't careful.” I knew about “them” from a young age, I was afraid then. “They” are not all white peoole if that's what you're thinking. “They” are undercover klansmen. If you know what I'm saying. Our school was full of them, their parents pressured the school not to show Barack Obama’a innaguaration…if you know what I'm saying. Anyway- what I'm saying about Adnan is that Adnan is always pretending to be neurotypical and when he gets around me, he feels so comfortable being himself that he comes off stranger than I am. Because it's all bottled up all the time. They shake him up and he pretends, and pretends, then we chill, the cap comes off, and the bottle explodes. Thats what I think it is anyway. 

Adnan: How far are you?

Iman: 15 min 

I’d decided on the long walk instead of transferring trains because I had my period and didn't want to have cramps. It's important to encourage good blood flow through low-impact cardio during one’s menstrual cycle. I was so enjoying my walk that I'd forgotten to order the soup. 😬

Iman: ummm actually 25 min 

Adnan liked a message 

I walked into a Brooklyn Dumpling House and ordered two dumpling soups. One with chicken, the other with beef. The man working was very sweet and he gave me extra dumplings for free! While I waited, I walked to a bodega to find a Tony’s Chocoloni for myself. The bodega I went to didn't have any Tony’s Chocolonis though :(. So, I went to another. None there either. I had to go get the soup and by then I was 16 minute into the 25 minutes I'd quoted Adnan for time and 8 minutes away from his apartment. Whatevaaa. I picked up the soups and headed in the direction of his apartment.  I really was determined to have a Tony’s Chocoloni, so I went into the bodega at his corner and RINGADINGDING one Chocoloni for Iman. Satisfied I skipped up to his apartment 3 minutes later than I said I would and buzzed him. 

“The door was open” he said as he let me into his apartment. 

“I didn't want to just open your door” I scowled. 

He looked awful. He was wearing a wife beater and some sleep shorts, his hair was horribly unkemp, his eyes has a thick layer of wetness over them, he was mouth breathing, and fever radiated from his body. Yet, somehow, he was finding the energy to pick an argument with me. 

He took the soups from me and put them on the counter. “Lemme give you the tour.” He announced.

His apartment is railroad style and it spans the entire floor. He has a little office area, his bedroom is about 300 square feet, his living area is the same, he has a dishwasher, and there is no toilet in the bathroom. He informed the the toilet was somewhere else, that he had a meeting with JP Morgan in 45 minutes, and that he wants to boil eggs to put in the soup. 

“Where does this door go?” I instantly regretted asking because I knew it was the toilet once I'd said it. 

“I'll let you figure that out” he antagonized me. 

I rolled my eyes. Even in his illness he suffers from boredom. I now know what it must be like to spend time with myself. 

“You know, babe, why can't you cook? Your dad’s a chef.” He said as he pulled out the eggs and a pot. 

I wanted to throw something at him, but I knew that's what he wanted me to do, so I didn't. I wouldn't make it so easy for him to entertain himself. “I can cook” I replied. 

“Why did I cook last time I was in a kitchen with you then?” He verbally flicked me. 

“Because you started doing it and I didn't want to interrupt you. You're very particular.” 

He made a little face. He was probably annoyed that I'd replied with something sensible. “Okay, do you know how to make a soft boiled egg?” 

“Mhm” 

“Great! I like them like that, but I'm not good at it. I can make some rice to put in the soup.” He suggested. 

“I brought the bread.” 

He smiled. “Oh yeah!” 

I made the soft boiled eggs, but particular as ever, he hovered the entire time. Then, he tried to peel one himself and he peeled it horribly bad. He looked sad when he saw it. I peeled the other two. Then, we sat down to eat. He looked at the soups and, like a big baby, asked me to have the beef dumplings. I said he could. That made him very happy. I told him how awful he looked, I thought he should know. His apartment was reflective of him. It  was a mess despite him teasing me for my apartment’s own mess. It wasn't dirty though, just filled with half finished thoughts and ideas. The furniture was all from Facebook Marketplace and perhaps a few vintage stores. Not necessarily because he's thrifty though, more because older furniture has more character and is better quality than the new crap. Well, the new affordable crap. Like me, he'd not tried to make a cookie cutter  apartment, he'd picked up things that called to him over the years. He interrupted my ponderings of his aparment with talk of how much he hates his professor. He thinks his professor is an idiot. In his defense, his professor sounds like an idiot. Adnan also talked about how he doesn't like his classmates and how he misses New Orleans. I'd miss New Orleans too if I were him, that's why I didn't move there. If I moved to New Orleans, I'd never leave and there isn't much growth in New Orleans right now, so I simply don't live there. I've got to make something of myself. 

After we ate, he needed to take his call. I offered him some of my Chocoloni out of politeness, but I was certainly glad when he declined. I decided to go to his room while he talked on the phone. I'd gotten like 5 booking requests since I'd got there and I needed to call them. I also wanted to watch TV. 

I called all the requests; ⅘ decided to book, so I put on Lolita and got to invoicing and sending contracts. I decided to watch Lolita because someone asked me a few days ago to read their play “based on Lolita” and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how they perceived their piece as “based on Lolita”. I didn't want to just say that though, so I thought I should watch again to see if I understood better. The whole time there was this banging sound coming from what I thought was upstairs.  

Twenty minutes into Lolita, I decided I'd like some more Tony's Chocoloni, so I snuck into the kitchen as quietly as possible. Real quietly like a mouse or a ninja. Adnan was doing some funny shit when I came in, man. He was riding his penny board around the house, popping bubble wrap, and holding the phone to his ear all at the same time. The banging I’d been hearing was him shifting  his penny board up to a tilt and slamming it down. He didn't  notice me because he was facing the window. I took a bit of Chocoloni and returned to the room. 35 minutes into Lolita and Adnan’s call, the Chocoloni called to me again. “Eat me big fatso” it taunted me. Unable to resist, I quietly tiptoed out to the living room again. This time, Adnan was standing on the windowsill and playing with the blinds. When he saw me, he held out his free hand, made a “5”, and mouthed “five minutes”. I didn't care how much longer he was going to be on the call. What I cared about was that he had eaten some of my Chocoloni! He said he didn't want any! He took a lot too! Liar! It was for the best though, eating a whole Chocoloni by yourself is bad. I took a circle shaped piece and went back in the room. 

Ten minutes later, Adnan threw the door to his bedroom open. 

“That took way too long.”

“It's fine” 

“What are you watching?” He asked me. 

“Lolita” 

“Why?” 

“Someone submitted a play to me and said it was based on it, but I don't understand where they're getting that from.” I explained. 

Adnan shrugged and sat down. We watched it quietly for a while and then he got bored I guess. We were at the part where Lolita flushes the toilet while Humbert is taking a shower. 

“That's mean of her, it's gonna make the shower cold” he said. 

“That's the point.” I said coldly.  

“You do that don't you? Do you try to make men mad in hopes that they'll get violent?” He pushed me. 

“Well I don't want them to get violent. I guess I just want them to get mad, so I know they care.” I was honest. 

“That's not a good thing to do.” 

“I'm working on it.” I sighed. 

He thinks he knows so much -.- 

We just kinda sat around for a few hours after that. Talking about our stresses and upsets. I brought him water and tissues here and there. He hugged me and I didn't hug him back. I don't know why I didn't, but it bothered him. He said something about it. About how it was mean. I told him I didn't want him to hug me to be polite. He said he wasn't hugging me to be polite and that he was doing it because he appreciated me being there and cares about me. I guess it wasn't nice of me to assign thoughts to him. I'm trying to stop deciding how men feel and what they mean. I told him as much and he was a bit offended I think. Because I told him that I think he's an asshole. He told me that I'm an asshole. We laughed after that. It was like that Spiderman pointing at Spiderman meme. I guess I don't humanize Adnan very much, so I didn't consider that he appreciates me being a friend to him. I'm working on not just seeing men as characters for my imagination to play with. He's a real person. :D So 'im say. 

His hair looked totally awful, I really wanted to style it. He decided to be a really meanie though. He was like “do you even know how to braid?”, “I had a black girlfriend and she braided my hair really well, you wouldn't know how to do it like that!”. “No you can't comb it however, you can do my rat tail!” So

I did his rat tail as a compromise. He was a big baby the whole time. He sat on the floor on a pillow while I sat in the chair. He wanted to sit in the mirror while I did it, so he could supervise. Particular as ever. Just before I started, he popped up and went to get the beads.

“I got these from a beauty supply in Harlem” he announced proudly. 

 I don't know how to put in beads and I told him as much. He really got a kick out of that, man. He started going on about how he knew I didn't know what I was doing. I was getting pissed. Any girl knows how to do a basic plait! I told him to sit down and put on a tutorial. He did. I watched it like three times because I didn't want to hear his mouth if I did it wrong, then I got  to work. He whined the whole time! “That's too tight!” That's too thin!” “That's too thick!” He was like Rat Tailocks and I was turning into a very annoyed bear. I felt challenged though, so I kept going. I wouldn't have him saying I can't do a rat tail, I wouldn't have that be. 

The size he choose was too big for the bead, but he was determined to get the wooden bead around his rat tail. I was determined to as well. He wouldn't have me saying that I can't get a bead on a rat tail! We watched the beading tutorial again, then decided to force the bead onto the braid. He held the braid and I stood up and tugged the bead with all my might. The first time it didn't go, so we tried again. I started lower this time and he held tighter. I counted to three and used my quads. The bead went on. He admired it in the mirror and smiled. 

“It's kinda too big, but I like it!” He smiled. 

By the time we were done with that it was getting dark and friend hours were ending, so I decided to leave. He was a brat about that. He went on about how he wanted me to leave anyway and then when I began to go he couldn't believe it. He wanted to keep talking, so I indulged him a bit. 

“You're not that pretty” he said to me. 

“Okay.” I said without emotion. 

“It doesn't bother you when I'm mean to you.” 

“I know I'm very beautiful and I know you think I'm very beautiful, why would I care that you're saying things to upset me?” I replied. 

“I'm gonna find a way to upset you.” 

“Okay.” I scoffed. 

“Are you actually gonna leave?” He said with uncharacteristic humility. 

“Yeah it's late, I've been here for hours.” 

“Hm, okay” he said sadly. 

I empathized, even with all my wonderful friends, I feel lonely like he does. That's the burden of carrying a divinely guided soul like we do.