Wish You Were Her(32)

Allegra was looking at the mocktail menu with Kerrie when she felt the—unfortunately very common—feeling of being watched.

She glanced up and smiled uncomfortably at the two men in their twenties who were standing over their small bar table.

“Allegra Brooks!”

It wasn’t a question. The man on the right had announced her name so loudly, a few of the staff behind the bar and a couple of waiters turned to watch.

Allegra wondered if she should try her occasionally useful trick of pretending that she was just a good lookalike. But before she could make a decision, Kerrie happily said, “Yes! It’s really her!”

Her sweet face quickly fell when Grace and Simon elbowed her from either side, but it was too late.

“Can you record something for my brother? You’re on his list,” one of the men said, squeezing next to Allegra and opening his phone to take a picture without asking.

“List?” Allegra murmured.

“Of people he’s allowed to sleep with apart from Lisa. That’s his wife.”

“Oh. I—”

“She’s eighteen,” Simon said with a tone of disgust. “That’s vile.”

“Say something from the show!” the man persisted, his mouth far too close to her ear.

“I’m actually just here for a bit of a break,” Allegra heard herself say, though in the smallest voice possible.

Suddenly she was seeing herself in the man’s front camera of his phone. She looked rattled and bewildered and his breath was too pungent. It was probably nothing an allistic would notice, but Allegra could sense all of the layers to it: onions and pickle, hastily covered up with a barely chewed piece of peppermint gum. Someone else’s phone flashed, too bright, the music felt too loud and the air had become thinner. She staggered up on her feet and started to make her way toward the exit.

“Can you just quickly say that line—”

A large hand was suddenly slapping the phone out of the man’s grip. He exclaimed as it shot gracelessly to the floor and the screen cracked. The man’s protestations had no effect on the newcomer, who said: “What the fuck, dude?”

Allegra turned in astonishment to see Jonah Thorne looking disdainfully at the disrespectful fan.

“This is a bar, not a meet-and-greet,” Jonah told the man coldly. “And even if it were, your behavior would be cracked. So, go away.”

“Who the hell are y—?”

Allegra grabbed Jonah by the arm and used him to propel them both out of the bar and into the street outside. She kept walking until they were in a more secluded place, with the sun barely down and the air still warm. They found themselves in a far quieter street, behind the bar, where there were cherry blossoms on the cobblestones and fewer people around.

“Thanks,” she exhaled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jonah looked her up and down. “You all right?”

“Yes.”

No.

“Are people always like that?” he asked, gesturing toward the bar they had just left.

“Oh, well. It’s fine, really. Sometimes people just get…” The excuses Allegra normally made for other people faded away. “Yes. Yes, they are. It’s why I wanted a normal summer. There’s only work and waiting for work in my life. I needed some freedom.”

She pressed herself against the outer brick wall of the bar. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel Jonah examining her.

“I couldn’t do what you do.”

He said it harshly but Allegra was not offended. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” he added. “It just doesn’t seem an easy way to live. But nothing is if you’re … well. That doesn’t matter.”

“What?” She opened her eyes and looked across at him.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“What?” she pressed.

“Well,” he shrugged one shoulder and kicked a piece of glass on the ground with the toe of his boot. “I’m autistic, so nothing is really built for people like me. But your world sounds particularly uninhabitable.”

For a moment, everything went away. “What did you say? You’re autistic?”

He glanced at her. “Well, yeah. Did the sorting system at the shop not give it away?”

“I…” Allegra felt her voice dry up as she stared at him. “I’m…”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I would never,” she blurted out. I’m like you. You’re like me.

“Anyway, I’m only saying it because I’m guessing you’re feeling pretty vulnerable right now and it’s apparently good to share with people in situations like this, so they feel less exposed. At least that’s what my terrible ex-therapist used to say.”

Allegra laughed. A light, happy sound.

“Mind you,” Jonah added, oblivious to her inner sandstorm of emotion, “the arts is probably a great place for a fellow autistic to hide. Lots of opportunities for escaping into imagined circumstances, characters, and stuff.”

“You think so?” Allegra said breathlessly. She shook her hands, drawing Jonah’s eyes to them.

He studied her for another long moment before concern started to edge into his face. “You sure you’re all right?”