Page 13 of First Kiss with a Mothman

We both chuckle, and I take in the sounds of other students eating in the distance. His words make my heart grow heavier. Concern gnaws at my chest, so I decide to push forward.

“This may come as a shock to you, but I find it hard to make friends.”

“That does shock me, for real,” he replies.

I snicker and nod. “People don’t know how to talk to me even though I have classes with them. I’m just trying to be a normal dude.”

“This is Creepin U. The abnormal is normal.”

I guffaw, then rotate my fork in my hand. After a moment, I continue, “What I’m trying to say is: I appreciate the meal, Mort. But I told myself years ago that I don’t want to be friends with people who feel sorry for me.”

“Alright?”

“So, if that’s why you want to have dinner with me, then we can stop after this. I’m on the lookout for genuine friends at university.” I tap the table and hold my breath, waiting for his response. Notably, the soft buzzing noise across from my table dies down.

“Making friends isn’t easy for me either.”

“What? Why? You’re tall and fit and cool.”

“As if you can tell.”

“I can! I can like, smell it or whatever!” We both crack up, and I’m relieved he’s already able to talk about my disability with ease.

“But anyway, I’m…not the most sociable creature.”

“You were at the bonfire, though,” I retort.

“Yeah, hiding in the woods, choosing to talk to moths.”

“And yet you found a friend anyway!”

“And look how that turned out. I’m fucking this up already.”

After a long tense pause, we laugh again. This is rapport, isn’t it? Friendly or flirty, I’ll take it. “Man, I forgave you. You didn’t hurt me. I should apologize to you.”

“No, you don’t. You did nothing wrong. Plus, birds gotta eat; it’s the law of the land. That night I was just triggered because…” His words trail off, and I wish he finished. Mort is a mystery, and even if I could see, I doubt I could unravel his enigmatic presence. He’s one handsome riddle of a mothman.

“Anyway, you can be able-bodied and still have shit luck when it comes to people. Not everyone can be as friendly as you.”

“Aw, thanks bud,” I reply, my cheeks warming up.

“Do you, like…” Mort’s voice wavers, and I know an uncomfortable question is coming up. What curiosities does he have about my life as a blind boy? “Do you not know about monster TV shows over the years?”

Didn’t see that coming. “Can’t say I do. My mom never let me watch TV.”

“Oh.”

“It was mostly radio shows, podcasts, and like a lot of Braille books. I even have an old-fashioned audiobook player. Here’s hoping they have cartridges in the library.”

We both snicker. Mort asks, “And you don’t know anything about mothmen?”

“Not a thing. I’ve read about shifters, but that’s not why I came to the famous Creepin U. I’m here because it’s thirty minutes away from home and I got a big scholarship for the music program.”

“Seriously? You’ve never heard of a mothboy or a mothman?”

“I swear I have not,” I reply with a smile.

“Huh,” he says, like I just answered several questions at once.