I'd only packed one suitcase. I'd organized it perfectly so I could fit in my Kirby stuffed toys, my other daily necessities and some clothes. I wore the same 5 pairs of clothing every day because they were the only ones that didn't make me feel like television static. I told the man at the gate that I preferred keeping my suitcase with me instead of giving it to him so he could keep it in a safe place with the rest of the luggage. He looked hesitant but let me.

I assigned him orange.

I found myself counting every step until my seat. Which was funny because I hated numbers. I think I did this because the older couples staring at me on my way to my seat made me feel funny. Like television static. It was a total of twenty-three steps.

I sat down and pulled out a book to read. I'd been reading the same book for the past five months because I could never concentrate on it for too long. I found myself getting easily distracted when doing things like reading. From the first hundred pages though, I deduced that the main character was very emotional. He would cry very often.

Father told me that I never cried. He even joked that when I was born, my mother cried more than I did. I don't know if this is true or not. Father doesn't know this because it's a secret, but the day I was called a freak at the dinner table and he said nothing, my eyes watered as I slept that night. That was the first time I'd cried. It was accompanied by this painful heartache. I never knew what it meant until I got older. I'd experienced sadness.

Though this should have been upsetting, I was glad I was beginning to deal with my emotions like a normal person would. I still couldn't bring myself to tell my father though because it would've made him feel bad. He's made every attempt to stand up for me against disrespectful people since then and this is why I love him.

Father was also the person who told me what it means to love someone. He said when it's platonic love, you want to care for them without any strings attached. He said that this kind of love is prevalent in friendships and amongst family members. Romantic love, he said, makes you feel funny in the beginning because of how nervous the person can make you - and then you ease into it and start wanting to care for them with strings attached. I'd seen people - pinks and blues - kissing in movies. I'd seen them doing intimate things. He said when you do these things with people you deeply care about, it is mutual love.

I wanted to feel this way for someone but I had never felt it for any woman I'd come across. Even when I was asked out by the prettiest girl in my class, I turned her down because I didn't want to care for her with strings attached. 

I asked father if he loved my mother. He said yes. I suppose this means he took care of her with strings attached. 

But, one night, I saw father doing intimate things with Aunt Delancey. When I asked him if he wanted to care for her with strings attached, he showed signs of being angry. He raised his voice and furrowed his brows at me. He told me that I was crazy for even assuming such a thing and told me to never bring it up again. 

Aunt Delancey's boyfriend found out and we haven't been allowed to see her since.

I don't know how one feels comfortable kissing and doing intimate things with people they don't want to care for with strings attached. I was taught that these are signs of mutual love. But father didn't love Aunt Delancey and she didn't love him. When father was arguing with Aunt Delancey's boyfriend, he said it 'happened in the heat of the moment'. I suppose this means that you want to care for the person with strings attached for only a brief moment. Again, I don't know who to believe. 

Our family hasn't been the same since then. Nobody will admit it but you can feel the tension in the air during family gatherings. Father and I are barely invited for family gatherings anymore. I suppose this is because of what happened with Aunt Delancey. There is no other reasonable explanation.

This confuses me even further because father told me that when you love someone deeply, you can't see yourself being with anybody else in a romantic or intimate manner. Does this mean he never truly loved my mother? Or had he gotten over his feelings for her? 

I was pulled out of my thoughts when I heard shuffling beside me followed by a warm presence.

"I love that book!" a familiar voice commented. 

I glanced towards my right, "It's you."

The familiar stranger scrunched his face up, trying to remember who I was.

"Juno, customer service."

"Oh it's you! Kirby dentures!"