Reaching Out

"I talked to a gallery today." James said before she could climb the first step. She stopped, but didn't turn toward him.

"The guy said he couldn't take new works right now, but he gave me a list of websites that would take them. Sites where a lot of people would see them." He said, watching her carefully. She didn't look disappointed, but she didn't look overjoyed either. She gave a small nod and went upstairs, silent as ever. James let her go, and called his dad to ask about a scanner.

---

James knocked on Dana's door lightly. He could barely hear her say come in. He entered and shut the door behind him. She was sitting on her bed like before, except now she had a book instead of her sketch pad in her lap. James sat next to her.

"Dad is going to scan the pictures you gave me tomorrow, and I'll have them posted on most of the websites by dinner, if that's alright with you." He said.

She nodded and smiled a little. She was looking at his chest.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about. About you being so shy." He began, weighing his words carefully. She didn't react so far.

"I know you don't like talking to people, but I don't know why. Is it really just you being timid, or is it something else?" He asked, his voice soft and quiet. He didn't realize it, but his voice patterns were starting to mimic hers almost perfectly. He didn't think she was going to respond, but he was going to give her as long as she needed to decide. After a while she looked up at him. Her eyes were like they were when she was drawing him. Piercing. Focused.

"I don't know how to act like a person. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do with my hands or my face or my body. I am embarrassed because people will think that I am weirder than they already think I am. I can't stand that embarrassment, so I avoid it. I don't want my family to think I am stranger than you do already so I don't talk to you unless I have to." She said. Her eyes never wavered or flinched as she spoke, even as the tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. When she finished, he saw her eyes soften in the instant before she looked back down to her hands. He saw more tears falling but she did not make a sound, and her shoulders did not shake or sob. She wept silently and as still as a statue.

James shifted over next to her and wrapped his arms around her. Her arms crept around his waist held tight. He felt the damp of her tears on his chest. He could feel her pulse in his arms. Her heart rate was slow and steady. Even when upset, she was the same; like a rock. After a while, he shifted his head so his mouth was close to her ear, and began to talk to her in an almost silent whisper.

"Most people don't know how to act like people. I don't. Mom doesn't. Neither does dad. All people do is say and do what they feel. If they feel like swinging their arms like a loon and yodeling for a laugh, they do. If people laugh, great. If they don't, oh well, it's not the end of the world. I have no idea what I am going to say to you next, it's not a script or a speech that's planned out or that's expected of me, I am simply telling you what I feel, as I feel it. That's all anyone really ever does. The ones that hide their feelings away and do things and say things that they do not feel are usually doing it for personal gain or for bad reasons. That's just the way people are. It's not as complex as it seems. I think sometimes it's the simplicity that makes it seem like there has to be a complex mechanism behind it. But there isn't. There are just people and how they feel. That's all there really ever is." He said. He was rubbing her back slowly, his hushed tone and words soothing her. She sat back and looked up at him. Her eyes were a little red rimmed, but not nearly as intense as they were before. Now they were the soft eyes he had glimpsed before she had turned away.

"It can't be that simple. What if I don't know what I feel, or don't feel anything?" She asked, frowning a little.

"That's easy. You say 'I don't know.' Just like you feel. If someone says something or asks something and you don't know how to respond, just say I don't know. Just what you feel."

She looked back down at her hands again before leaning forward and hugging James again. He just held her for a while. She seemed to need it.

---

They gathered for dinner. When everyone was seated, James noticed a bit of apprehension. He asked what was up.

"Well," Dad started, "I think that it's great that Dana is going to be showing her artwork. I don't want to put you in a spotlight, honey, I know you don't like that, but I am glad you are showing it." He said, trying to be careful. Dana froze, her hand halfway to her fork. She glanced from her mother to her father, then to James. As her eyes went to James she felt his hand take hers under the table and give a slight squeeze. He gave her a small smile as well. She seemed to relax at that, and her other hand finished grabbing her fork.

"Thank you Daddy. I... I think it might be neat to see if other people like to see the things I draw." She said. Her voice was stilted and quiet, but clear.

"The curator at the gallery across town said that you have a lot of real talent, and that if he could take on new work now he would gladly take yours. I think that is a pretty good indication that others like your work." James said softly, not quite looking at Dana, and giving her hand a squeeze, trying to keep her at ease despite her being at the center of attention. It seemed to be working, for the time being.

"I should say so. See, it's not just me that thinks you have real talent, dear. Since you started doing all the design tooling on the leatherworks sales have increased dramatically. It's not from me dropping prices or anything, it's from your talent." Mom said, reaching over to brush back a stray lock of Dana's hair. Dana sat still for a moment, just staring at the table next her mom's plate before getting up and leaving while mumbling a quick apology.

James immediately held up his hand to calm his parents and reassure them.

"No no, let her go, I'll talk to her in a bit. It's alright. You didn't say anything wrong, she's not mad at you or anything, ok? She just doesn't know how to interact with people." James said quietly. He explained the discussion he had earlier with her. It was more than she had explained to her parents in her entire life. They had thought for a long time that she might be autistic, in the Asperger part of the spectrum, or perhaps sociophobic (James was rather sure that it was a form of this), or suffer Selective Mutism, maybe even Avoidant Personality Disorder. But the doctor they had taken her to as a child had reassured them that she was none of those. She was just a very shy, introverted, and very intelligent girl. He suggested that in time she would reach out to the world on her own. A little at a time, but eventually she would.

James explained that she was scared of people thinking that she was stranger than they already thought she was and thought the best way to avoid that was to avoid people. He thought he could help her with that. After a long talk over the remains of their meal, his parents agreed that he may be able to help. He already seemed to have a better connection with her than anyone else.

---

James knocked on the door and got no answer. After a moment he entered anyway. All the lights were out, and the room was almost completely black. Being on the back of the house, her window had no street light to brighten it at night. Dana kept a clean room, though, and he could make out her desk in the afterglow of the set sun through the window. He set down her dinner plate and the glass of water and sat on the edge of her bed. She was lying on her side, facing the wall.

"Please leave me alone." She said, her voice rough and quiet.

"No," he said softly, not unkindly, "mom and dad are just trying to be nice. They aren't mad at you, and they don't think you are weird." He said, rubbing her arm. She rolled onto her back and looked up at him. He could only see the basic shape of her face. He did not know that her sharp eyes saw his face almost clearly. All his features were visible to her. She knew he was like dad, almost blind in the dark. He probably didn't know his face looked sad, and he probably couldn't make out her face very well.

"How could they not think I am weird? I run away whenever someone talks to me." She said, watching his face closely. He smiled a dopey, lopsided grin that she doubted he even realized was there, much less thought she saw.

"And I run away every time someone yells at me. So what? It happens. They know you don't like attention. They understand a little." He said.

Dana watched him for a moment, reading his face, and saw nothing but sincerity there. She relaxed a little. James reached up carefully and ran his finger down her cheek, from the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth, the way he had when they were kids and she was crying about something. The small gesture raised a lump in her throat, but she had nowhere left to run. She sat up in the bed and looked at James. He couldn't see it, but that intense stare was back.

"I'm all alone." She said quietly. She watched him carefully. He frowned a bit, and looked both confused and concerned.

"No, you're not, it just seems that way. You have a family that loves you very much. We are always with you." He answered. His face was earnest and honest. He meant every word he said.

"I know you guys are here. But I cannot talk to anyone. I am all alone." She replied, trying to phrase it the way it felt. James tilted his head slightly for a moment, brow furrowed, thinking through what she had said. Then his face opened; his eyes opened wide again and a small smile played about his lips.

"You can talk to me, can't you? I mean, we have been talking, right?" he asked, hoping she would see that she was not alone. She was quiet, watching his face, reading his expression. She thought he may be right. She was talking to him, more than she had talked to anyone before. And while she didn't feel great about talking to him, it wasn't nearly as bad as talking to everyone else.

"I suppose. I don't know." She said, sounding wary.

"You can tell me anything Dana. Anything at all. Anything ever. I will never think you are strange for it. Not ever, not even once. Consider me completely safe to talk to. If you want, I will swear to never tell anyone what you and I talk about if it will make you feel better." He said. He wanted her to feel safe talking to him. Only by talking with someone would she develop the courage to talk to others, so she would need a safe place to start.

"Anything at all?" She asked quietly, watching. So far she had seen nothing but truth in his face.

"Anything." He affirmed. She saw only truth now.

She was silent while she considered it. Her eyes never left him. He had realized she was looking at him with that steely gaze when she said she didn't know. He now felt like even though he couldn't quite make out her eyes, he could feel her gaze boring into his skull. It was a little unnerving. She leaned forward slowly until her face was almost close enough to kiss and spoke in a low voice.

"I like the dark better than the light because I can see better than everyone else in the dark. Mom is the same way" She said. Her tone was flat, relaying information matter-of-factly. James nodded and said ok. Dana watched him a moment longer then wrapped her arms around him. She had never felt so free in her life.

---

James woke just after three, the familiar pain sunk deep into his spine. He looked over and there was Dana, sitting on the floor next to the couch, looking at him.

"Hi." He said, blinking slowly.

"Hi. You whistle a tiny bit at the end of your inward breath." She answered.

"Good to know." James said as he sat up. His back did its usual crackle and pop. Dana's eyes widened at the sound.

"Don't worry, it'll feel better in a couple hours." He said with a small smile, rubbing at the small of his back.

"It'll last longer and longer the more nights you sleep here." She said.

"Maybe. I'll be fine though." He replied.

She looked like she didn't quite buy that but didn't say anything.

"Not drawing this morning?" He asked.

"Not today. I was hoping we could. Talk." She said, sticking on the last word. She looked like she was forcing herself to say it, and he figured in a way she was.

"Of course. What would you like to talk about?" He said, happy that she was embracing the idea of communicating with someone.

"Not here. Let's sit on my bed. I'm comfortable there." She said as she stood up.

He followed her up the stairs, watching where she stepped. Event stepping in the same places that she did, he must have been shifting his weight wrong or something because he still produced a couple squeaks in the wake of her ninja-like silence. They sat on the bed, and Dana turned off the lamp, leaving the room in darkness. James was effectively blind, but Dana still saw dim shapes. Not much, but more that James. She could see where he was and if he was shifting around or leaning. She couldn't make out his face, but she didn't feel like she needed to this time. She trusted him.

"What did you want to talk about?" James asked, hoping he was facing at least in her general direction, though he figured it didn't matter much in the dark.

"I'm not entirely sure. I just. I want to talk to someone. Talk without fear. Talk without judgment. You said we could do that." She said, sounding wary, cautious.

"Yes. And I meant it. No judgment here, not now, not ever. Would you like to talk about work? Or art? Or something else? What interests you?"

She was quiet for a long time. James sat patiently, he knew she needed time to prepare herself for something like this. What he did not expect was the topic she had in mind.

"I want to know about relationships. The intimate kind. I figure you have been in a few. I was wondering if you could tell me a little about them and how they work. I have read a lot of books, but I do not think that they are accurate models of what actually happens." She said. She sounded almost scared.

"Ok. Not what I was expecting, but if that's what you want to know about, ok. What do you want to know?"

"How do people know if they are, you know, compatible? Is it something that is readily apparent or is it something that you have to really look for?" She asked, her voice faltering a bit. He could hear the embarrassment in her voice, but was fiercely proud of her for pressing on regardless.

"It's something that two people just kind of realize over time. As time goes by and the people get to know one another better, they start to see where their personalities mesh and where they don't. If there is more meshing than not, they usually stick together. If not, they call it quits."

"What about, about." She took a deep breath before continuing. "What about sex. Is it something that just happens, or is it decided on?" She finally asked.

"Well, a bit of both, I think. People can usually tell if the other person is interested in sex. It's usually pretty apparent." He said. He had never really thought of his sister as a sexual being before, and now realized that with her personality sex would be all but impossible. He wondered if that forced celibacy was what was driving this conversation.

She was quiet for a while after that. He began to think about her more and more in a sexual way, how difficult it would be for her to meet someone and to get to the point where sex would be an issue. He simply didn't see it happening.

"How do mom and dad sleep together in the same bed? Don't they worry about shifting around and waking the other one up?" She asked, sounding almost like she was talking to herself.

"No, most people either sleep on either side with a gap between them or right next to each other so that they can't move much. I think it's actually very comfortable to spoon behind a woman. Very relaxing. It's a very intimate act for two people to share, and it's something most couples do every night." He explained. He had never really considered it before, it had always just been something he had done without thinking.

"Relaxing? To have someone basically laying on you?" She sounded skeptical.

"Think of it like a hug for when you are lying down." He said, smiling at the thought.

"I don't know." She said quietly.

"Come here." He said, and held his arms out.

"What?"

"Come here." He repeated. He felt her shift closer and he wrapped his arms around her. Then he leaned them over on their side, holding her close. When they were down, he straightened his legs and nudged hers into place. Soon they stilled and just lay there, silent. James had his face in the deep mat of her thick hair, smelling the scent of her. His hands rested on her stomach, and her hands were on top of his. Her feet were tangled with his. She began to move slightly, and James thought she was crying for a moment. Then he realized she was trying to laugh silently.

"What's funny?" He asked, unable to keep a grin from his mouth.

"Your breath tickles my neck." She said, giggling a little.

"Sorry." He answered, pulling his head back.

"No it's alright. It feels. It feels nice. I think I like this. I think I can see why people would want to sleep this way." She said. She actually sounded relaxed. They stayed that way for a while, not talking, not anything, just enjoying the feeling of each other. When the sun started to creep through the window they sat up. Dana grabbed her sketch pad and did a little drawing while James went to start the coffee.

---

The websites were easy enough to sign up for, and easy enough to post the pictures on. Dana sat next to James as he went through them so she would know how to go about it after he was gone. When they had all the pictures they had scanned posted Dana gave James a wide smile and a big hug before darting away up the stairs. James watched her go and smiled. He thought about that morning. He didn't know why he had shown her what he meant about spooning. He probably should have just explained it a bit better, but it seemed like a good idea to just show her what he meant. Staying that way as long as they had, though, he thought was probably not good at all. But it had felt nice, and Dana had clearly enjoyed it. If it was innocent, then what harm could there be? If it was helping to show Dana that human contact did not have to be a worrisome thing, then it was a good thing, right? He gave a mental shrug and shut down the computer, deciding to help his mom with dinner to get his mind off of it.

---

They sat down to eat, and the conversation flowed normally. Mom, dad, and James talking, with Dana only listening. When mom asked Dana if wanted to post more of her pictures on the web, James felt Dana's hand grasp his thigh under the table before she answered.

"I suppose. I may post more if people like the ones that are up." She said softly, staring at her plate. James placed his hand over hers on his leg and gave it a squeeze, trying to reassure her. She gave a small smile before going back to her meal. Talk wandered back to the usual and James was happy to see that Dana stayed for the entire meal, and that she seemed rather calm throughout, not very nervous at all.

After dinner James gathered the dishes in the sink to clean them, telling his mother to go relax. He was just starting in when Dana seemed to appear next to him. He did not hear her walking up. He jumped a little and smiled.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked.

"I just, um. Did you want help? With drying or anything?" She asked, shifting from foot to foot.

"That would be great. Thank you." He said, happy to see her making the offer. They washed and dried without talking, Dana seeming to be happy simply to be helping. James was happy with it too. He knew that talking with her was not necessary for her to feel more comfortable dealing with people. Simple interactions like this were something that she would need to do to get more accustomed to dealing with people in a more normal basis.