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“Jesus, Evan, do you ever stop talking?” His mother snapped. 5-year-old Evan did, in fact, stop at that, his voice dying in his throat and his eyes burning with tears. Evan had been learning about sea creatures at school that day, and he’d been excited to share the knowledge with his mother. Mom never talked about how some fish lived so deep in the ocean that they never saw sunlight, so maybe she didn’t know. Evan had thought it fascinating. He couldn’t imagine having never seen sunlight.
“I just-” he started, staring at his school shoes. The Velcro was starting to peel up at the edges where too much fluff prevented them from sticking. He wondered if how much fluff he could pull out. Mom ignored him, getting a chopping board out the cupboard and slamming in on the side, before snatching some carrots out the fridge and roughly topping-and-tailing them. Evan flinched at every slice. Maybe he shouldn’t bother telling her. He didn’t understand how someone couldn’t be interested, but clearly she wasn’t.
“C’mon, Evan,” Maddie slipped her hand into his and he looked up to give her a weak smile as she led him into the living room. “What was that about the midnight zone?” Evan scrunched his face up, thinking. He wasn’t sure anyone was interested in what he had to say any more, but the unspoken words in his head made his brain itch. Maddie gave him an encouraging smile, and Evan felt himself relaxing. He opened his mouth to start from the beginning and facts just started to pour out.
“There’s this bit of the ocean where the sun never, ever gets to,” He started, picking up a cushion and absentmindedly fiddling with the zip. “But there’s animals that live there, and so they never see the sun. There’s the sunlit zone, and the twilight zone and the midnight zone-.” He unzipped and rezipped the cushion, not even looking at what he was doing. “And there’s animals that light up, and some go between the zones, and-” Maddie’s eyes were on the zip, but Evan wasn’t looking, staring around the room as if the answers were written around the walls.
“Evan.” Maddie reached over to put her hand on Evan’s hands, and she gently removed the cushion from them. Clearly the sound had been bothering her, and Evan felt bad. But Maddie was smiling at him, and he smiled back. He shifted to sit cross-legged on the sofa, his legs starting to ache from sitting in the same position for too long. “That’s really cool. What else have you been learning about?”
~
Sent to the Principal. Again. 10-year-old Evan didn’t think it was fair. It wasn’t his fault his chair squeaked every time he shifted position. It wasn’t his fault his teacher had asked the class a question on a subject he knew a lot about. It wasn’t his fault that, for every sentence his teacher had said, his brain had supplied him with 3 more interesting facts or comments and he’d had to get them out before he’d burst. Whispering in class. Disrupting his friends. Distracting those around him. Evan felt like, no matter how hard he tried, he was a problem, just by being himself.
~
Not being himself took a lot of effort. 15-year-old Evan had put years of effort in to suppressing his thoughts, sitting as still as possible, and being as “normal” as possible. He tried to mirror his classmates, who sat in silence and took notes as his teachers spoke, or put their hands up to offer interesting responses to questions. Evan struggled to focus on what was being said – he’d loved the book they were studying in English Lit, devoured it in a matter of days, and had been looking forward to hearing other people’s perspectives on it. But now it came to it, Evan’s mind wouldn’t stay on track. As his peers discussed the symbolism and language, Evan’s eyes were drawn to the tree out the window, swaying in the breeze. There were the traces of the previous lesson on the board behind the teacher, and Evan couldn’t stop himself trying to work out what they had said. The song on the radio in the car that morning would not stop going round and round his head, louder than anything else.
When Evan got home from school, he would get a drink from the fridge, go to his room, and play PlayStation for hours at a time. Maddie had snuck him a copy of Grand Theft Auto before she had left, and Evan couldn’t get enough. He could sit and play for hours, never noticing time passing. He had memorised every map and every cheat code, and could discuss it with his friends for hours.
Dinner with his parents was always a disaster. His mother was always in a bad mood, his father always playing the go-between. But Evan felt fit to bursting. He’d spent the day doing exams; his mind had checked out only a few hours in, but he’d sat in the exam hall, poring over his desk for hours. His brain was going nuts.
“Hey, did you know-?” He started, in a desperate attempt to empty his head, but this elicited a huff from his mother which stopped him in his tracks.
“Not tonight, son,” His dad told him, more kindly than usual, and Evan had had to bite his lip as he flinched. He’d never learn. His parents never wanted to hear his fun facts, but he couldn’t help himself.
“I found a secret level in my game-.” He started again, but his mother slammed her hand down on the table. He flinched again, feeling like he’d been slapped.
“Do you ever talk about anything other than that stupid game?!” Her voice was loud and rough, and Evan felt like his head was spinning. He slipped down from his seat and hurried to shut himself in the bathroom.
Evan couldn’t breathe, the feeling of the emotions and the facts constricting his chest. His muscles were tense as he gripped the porcelain of the sink so tight his knuckles went white, but he couldn’t relieve the pressure. He felt the blood pumping through his veins, like his thoughts were combined in there, too. He dug his fingernails into the soft skin of his forearms, as if he would be able to gouge the excess brainpower out. His heart thudded. The pain was making him feel calmer, but he was overwhelmed. He had to get it out somehow.
Looking through the bathroom cabinet, Evan came across a pair of nail scissors, and knew what he had to do. His arms felt swollen, engorged by everything going on inside him. He pressed the sharp end of the scissors into the soft skin on his arm and gasped as he broke skin. He expected it to have popped like a balloon, a steady flow of blood and words and thoughts and emotions into the sink and out of his brain, but it was just a trickle of red, running down his arm. He gave a sob. Nothing would help. Nothing would change this. Evan Buckley was doomed to be like this forever. And he hated himself for it.
~
20-year-old Evan was self-destructive. He was on a journey of self-discovery. He never stayed in the same place for too long, and never sat still when he was there. He’d worked behind bars and on ranches and any other practical jobs he could find. He drank too much and took things he shouldn’t and never made a connection with the girls he hooked up with. They never wanted to talk anyway, and definitely didn’t want to listen.
Evan hadn’t given out any fun facts in years.
~
25-year-old Buck had found his place in the world. He had a physical job, burned as much of his endless energy as possible, and had a team that loved him. He still hated being crammed in the back of the firetruck going to and from calls, but he could chat to his friends and have a laugh, and they never told him to shut up.
They were coming back from a call where an illegal-pet breeder had managed to lock herself in a cage to escape an attack from an angry serval. The fire crew had broken into the cage to free her, the paramedics had bandaged her wound, and the police had called animal control and taken her away for prosecution.
“Did you know?” The phrase slipped out of Buck’s mouth as he got back into the engine, before he could stop himself. “A cheetah is technically a big cat, but it can’t roar like a lion. It’s the largest big cat to be unable to roar. It meows like a cat.”
“How do you know that?” Chim asked, clearly surprised by the knowledge, and Buck waved him off dismissively.
“Youtube, man.” He shrugged, like the answer was obvious. “There’s loads of videos of it. And lions react to catnip like normal cats. They get high and roll around in it. And they like boxes, too, just like normal cats.”
“Really?” Hen asked, making Buck enthusiastically pull his phone out to show videos. Eddie laughed.
“He and Chrisopher watch these videos for hours,” he told the group, but that didn’t stop him peering at Buck’s phone.
“Yeah, and lion parents let their cubs sneak up on them to practise their hunting,” Buck grinned. “And pretend to get spooked when they get it right.”
“OK,” Hen grinned. “That’s cute.”
“And-.” Buck started and they all looked over at him. Buck hesitated, suddenly doubting himself. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He mumbled into his lap. Usually that’s when people stopped listening, or told him to shut up, or just didn’t take any notice in him. He expected conversations to start up without him whilst he looked out the window feeling ridiculous – why couldn’t he control his mouth for once? – but Eddie nudged his knee with his own to draw his attention.
“And? Go on.”
It was always the same routine when they got back to the fire house. They would change into their casual clothes and fill in time before meals. Buck liked to spend his time lounging on the sofa upstairs, reading facts on the internet, planning his meals for the week, arranging to meet people, and playing silly games on his phone. Sometimes all at the same time. Buck’s head was never quiet, but he was used to that now. There was always something going on, or multiple thoughts at once. It was loud, it was frustrating, and he never got a minute’s peace. Sometimes he'd put his airpods in; sitting in silence was when his brain was noisiest.
“What else do you know?” Eddie asked, batting at Buck’s feet on the sofa until he moved them for Eddie to sit next to him. Buck frowned at him.
“Huh?”
“What other fun facts can you tell us?” Hen sat opposite them on the other sofa and leaned forward on her knees, looking interested. Honest-to-God interested in what he had to say.
“Yeah, Wizz Kid, we’re all ears.” Chimney sat and rested his feet on the coffee table between them. Over in the kitchen, Bobby was looking on and smiling fondly. Buck considered.
“Uh- about anything in particular?” He asked hesitantly. The group considered.
“Birds.” Hen decided.
“But not crows.” Chimney added instantly, making the group snigger.
“Well,” Buck sat back, thinking. He knew a lot about birds – he’d done a project as a child and that sort of information never left his brain. Where to start? “Bird skeletons are hollow, so they’re not too heavy to fly. Um, owls can rotate their heads on their necks 270 degrees and their faces are the shape they are to aid their hearing from several miles away, like they’re giant earlobes. They can fly silently and, uh, they never go to the bathroom.”
“Never?” Eddie interjected on that one. “But don’t all birds-?”
“Not owls,” Buck shook his head. “They swallow their prey whole. Then regurgitate the bits they can’t digest into a pellet.”
“Gross.” Chimney pulled a face, making Buck laugh.
“And they make themselves bigger when they see a threat, by puffing up their feathers,” He added.
“Kinda how you like to size up to authority when you’re feeling confrontational.” Hen observed, making the group laugh again.
“Go on.” Eddie grinned encouragingly at him. “What else?”
Chim and Hen had got bored of the facts pretty quickly, chatting between themselves, but Eddie kept nudging Buck for more.
“What about space?” He asked, his eyes never leaving Buck’s. “What do you know about space?”
“Scientists believe Saturn’s rings were made of one of its moons which got hit by an asteroid then exploded and are now caught in its gravitational field,” Buck told him promptly, then smiled at the look of interest on Eddie’s face. “And actually, asteroid fields in movies are super unrealistic, because each bit of debris is actually several miles apart, so navigating them would be really boring.”
“Oh, you try telling that to Christopher,” Eddie laughed. “One of his dreams is to pilot a spaceship through an asteroid field.”
“No doubt he will,” Buck nodded. “He’ll do anything.”
“Yeah, I know.” Eddie beamed proudly, then nudged Buck again. “Whatcha know about books?”
“No, Eddie,” Buck shook his head and avoided Eddie’s gaze. “You don’t want me to do this, really.” Eddie gave him a small frown.
“What? Yeah, I do, Buck. I asked.”
“No,” Buck shook his head again. “I’m too much, I’m sorry. I don’t shut up, and I fidget, and I-.”
“Buck.” Eddie put a hand over Buck’s, where he hadn’t realised he had been lacing and unlacing his fingers together. “I promise you. We know what you’re like. And we love you for it. We love you for being you.”