Page 22 of Finding Lexie
“Sorry. That came out of left field. I was thinking about school and how hard it was for me. My grades weren’t great. I just…I’m dyslexic. And because we moved so much, and my dad was too concerned about getting money for his booze, he never bothered to get me tested. School was hell. Letters were all jumbled on the page for me and I did my best to hide how lost I was most of the time. I don’t blame the teachers for not catching on, I cheated on tests a lot.” She shrugged. “And there was always someone smarter, or dumber, than me for them to concentrate on. I fell through the cracks.”
“Shit, Lex—” Midas began.
But she interrupted him. “No, it’s fine. My dad didn’t help, laughing at me and calling me stupid when I’d bring home my report card. And I’m not looking for sympathy, but I can remember just about every time someone was nice to me when I was growing up, since it happened so rarely.
“There was this girl, her name was Renee, and we were in fourth grade together, I think. We were at recess and she asked if I wanted to play with her. It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that. We played on the swings and ran around together at recess for the rest of the year. I was so happy. The next year, she was in a different class and she got new friends, but I’m still grateful for that year.
“Then at one of my junior high schools, a boy noticed that I was sitting by myself at lunch, without eating, and he bought me a cookie. I could go on, but… I’m sure you get it. When you’re invisible and someone finally sees you, and does something nice, it sticks with you.
“And I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty about your own upbringing, or anything you’ve done in the past. I’m just trying to explain why I am the way I am. Though not very clearly,” she admitted, chuckling lightly. “To most people, including my own father, I was invisible. I see the invisible, Midas. They call to me, and I can’t help but be nice to them. To try to help them. It gives me such satisfaction, and I hope that maybe, just maybe, someday they’ll remember when someone did something nice for them, and they’ll pass it along. The world needs more nice and less hate.”
“Yes, it does,” Midas agreed.
“And while I’m thinking about it, thank you for not pitching a fit when Mrs. Allen stuck you with me for that project.”
“Lex,” Midas began, but she talked over him again.
“No, I’m serious. I know I was the last person you wanted to work with. You had your eye on Candace, and she was certainly pissed she wasn’t paired up with you. But you still smiled at me, and you didn’t make me feel as if I was a burden.”
“You worked your ass off on that project,” Midas said. “And had some damn good ideas.”
She shrugged. “I’m sure you could’ve gotten an A if you were with someone else. I wasn’t much help in typing up the paper.”
“Hey, I was pleased as hell with that B we got. I enjoyed talking with you, Lexie. I’m just sorry I was so clueless about your situation.”
“Don’t be,” she told him. “There was no way for you to know, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell you anything about it and make you feel sorry for me. Besides, you’re one of those good memories I was talking about a second ago. School sucked for me. But because of you, I can look back at my senior year and have at least a few good memories.”
Midas hadn’t relaxed under her. If anything, he seemed to be more tense now than he was earlier. Lexie hadn’t meant to upset him.
“You still talk to your dad?” he asked after a moment.
“No. He died a few years ago. Cirrhosis of the liver.”
“Good.”
The single word was said with a venom that Lexie hadn’t heard from Midas in the hours since he’d been by her side.
“He didn’t deserve you. I understand more about why you are the way you are, and why you do what you do now. No father should tell their child he or she is stupid. And you said you weren’t abused, but you absolutely were, Lex. I’m sorry that happened, but you got the last laugh. I hope he died a painful and lonely death and is looking down on you now, regretting every damn harsh word he said to you.”
“Midas,” Lexie protested, but he kept going.
“The fact that Astur didn’t hesitate to help you doesn’t surprise me in the least. You’re a shining light of goodness in an otherwise dark and difficult life. You were there for her and her children when she needed kindness the most. Don’t change, Lex. Ever. The world needs more people like you. You balance out people like me.”
Lexie shook her head. “No, Midas, you’re a good man.”
He chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “You don’t know me.”
“Okay, fair point, but I don’t know anyone who would’ve done for me what you’ve done. You stayed by my side, didn’t wait for the doctor to put in that IV so I could get some fluids. You didn’t leave me when things went sideways, even though we both know you could’ve gotten away a lot faster without me hanging off you. You trusted me when I said Astur would help us, and you didn’t complain or hesitate to climb in this hole with me. In case it’s escaped your notice, this would’ve been a lot more comfortable without me in here with you.”
“And that’s another thing that makes me so pissed off on your behalf,” Midas retorted. “The fact that you don’t know anyone who would’ve done the decent thing to help you is ridiculous.”
She shook her head, not sure how to make Midas understand. “I’m not like the Candaces of the world,” she told him. “People don’t bend over backward to open doors for me, to buy me lunch, or go out of their way to get to know me. But don’t feel sorry for me. I’m okay with that. I’ve learned to enjoy being by myself. I can do what I want, live where I want, and if I want to spend my paycheck on a needy family who lives down the street, I can do so without having to worry about what someone might think.”
“I’ll say it again, the world needs more Lexies in it than Candaces.”
His words felt good. But she had a feeling he was probably just saying that because of the situation.
“You don’t believe me,” Midas said with uncanny insight.
