SANDY LEARNT A SECRET 1/2 "Howdy, y'all!" Sandy called out, her voice echoing through the park. Then she notices Karen’s husband Plankton, his eye glazed over, sitting still. He looked so out of place, frozen like a statue by Karen. "Is he ok?" Sandy asked with genuine concern, approaching them. Karen nodded. "It's just one of his moments," she whispered, hoping Sandy didn't hear the anxiety in her voice. Plankton had autism. These absence seizures were something they'd learned to live with, like a quirky dance his body did without his consent. The park was a favorite place. But now, his stillness was unsettling, a stark contrast to the vibrant activity around them. Sandy knew Plankton was different, but she doesn’t know of his neurodivergence. Her heart sank, and she felt a surge of protectiveness. "What can I do to help?" she offered. "Just talk to him," Karen whispered. "Sometimes that helps bring him back." Sandy took a deep breath and knelt down beside Plankton, his gaze vacant as he stared at the swings. "Hey, Plankton," she started, her voice gentle. "What's got you so focused?" She watched his pupil, searching for any sign of recognition. There was none. Her mind raced with questions she hadn't asked before. She knew he was quirky, had his own rhythm, but this? This was new to her. Sandy gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is he ok?" she asked again, her voice now a low murmur. But Karen was quick to intervene, her hand sliding over Sandy's. "Don't touch him," she whispered urgently. "It's best not to pry during these spells. It might scare him." Sandy nodded, swallowed her curiosity, and leaned back on her haunches. "What causes these... moments?" Karen sighed. "It's his autism," she explained softly. "These are absence seizures. They're like little brain hiccups, where he simply checks out for a while." Sandy's eyes widened, sympathy swelling in her chest. "How often do these happen?" "More often than I'd like to admit," Karen replied with a sad smile. "But they're usually brief. It's just part of he is." She paused, looking at Plankton with a mix of love and concern. "But sometimes, they can be longer." Sandy nodded slowly, absorbing the new information. "What's it like for him?" she asked, her voice low and caring. Karen grew soft. "It's like a daydream, but without his control. He doesn't remember much after..." Her voice trailed off as she studied her husband's unresponsive face. "But when he snaps out of it, he's usually ok. He might be a bit confused, but he's always ok. Although he can wake up feeling scared or upset sometimes." Sandy felt her heart tug with each word. She could see the love Karen had for Plankton, and the pain she held in silence every time he slipped away like this. "Does anything trigger them?" she probed gently. "Loud noises, flashing lights, stress..." Karen counted off on her fingers, her gaze drifting to the bustling park. "But sometimes, it's just because his brain needs a moment." Sandy nodded, taking in the quiet seriousness of Karen's tone. "What's the best way to help when this happens?" Karen's gaze flickered to the swings, where the children's laughter grew more distant as they swung higher. "Just be patient, and keep talking to him. Sometimes, the sound of a familiar voice can guide him back." Sandy took this in, willing her voice to steady. "What do you talk about or say to him?" Karen shrugged. "I just talk sweet nothings. It's more about keeping a calm, soothing environment than the content." Sandy nodded, trying to imagine what that would be like. "How does he react when he snaps out of it?" Karen's expression softened a bit. "At first, he's usually a little disoriented, like waking up from a deep sleep. But he sometimes comes around and tries to play it off like nothing happened. It's his way of coping, as he’s a bit self conscious." Sandy watched as a playful breeze rustled Plankton's antennae, and she wondered what was going on behind his unblinking eye. "Does he ever get upset when he realizes what's happened?" Karen nodded, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening slightly. "It's tough. Sometimes he feels like he's missed out on things, or people will stare." Sandy's curiosity was piqued. "What does he see or feel?" Karen's eyes searched the horizon, her thumb absently stroking Plankton's knuckles. "I know it's like a pause in time for him.." "Does he hear us?" Sandy inquired, her voice a mere breath. "He might, but it's like his mind is in a different place," Karen explained, her eyes never leaving her husband's. "It's like he's in a bubble and we're in the distant background." Sandy nodded. "How long do these episodes usually last?" Karen shrugged, her smile tight. "A few seconds to a few minutes, rarely hours. It varies." Sandy leaned in, even more curious. "Does anything he does before these episodes hint that one is coming?" Karen nodded, her eyes still on Plankton. "Sometimes he'll get a little spacey, or his body might twitch." "What's the worst one you've seen?" Sandy asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Karen's smile disappeared, her eyes misting over. "One time, it was at the supermarket. He was in the middle of a crowded aisle, and a child's laughter triggered one. The lights were too bright, the noises too loud. It was chaos for him. He was stuck there, unable to move, while everyone else bustled around, oblivious to his silent distress, which worsened as they bumped into him and jostling him even more." Sandy felt a pang of empathy. "How did you get him out of it?" Karen took a deep breath, her hand squeezing Plankton's. "I talked to him softly, tried to keep the environment calm. I asked the people around to give us some space. It wasn't easy, but he eventually came back to me on the ride home. He then took a nap.." Sandy nodded, her thoughts racing. "What if the park’s environment is perpetuating this one?" Karen frowned slightly, glancing around. "It's possible," she conceded. "We've had episodes here before, but they're usually shorter and less severe. Let’s drive him home." Sandy stood up, her hands still shaking a little. "Should I move him, or?" Karen considered for a moment. "I’ll help him up gently." Together, they approached Plankton, and Karen whispered sweetly, "Hey, sweetie, it's time to go home." She lifts Plankton's body holding him in an embrace. "Let's get him to the car," Karen said, her voice still low and soothing as she carries him.

SANDY LEARNT A SECRET 2/2 The car ride home was quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from Karen. Sandy drove carefully, avoiding potholes and bumps that might jar Plankton and extend his absence. She glanced at the rearview mirror, watching his still form in the backseat, his face a mask of zoned out oblivion. Karen sat next to Plankton. Her eyes never left his, willing him to blink, to move, to give any sign that he understood. They entered the Chum Bucket home. Sandy trailed behind, silent as Karen takes Plankton to their bedroom. Karen laid Plankton down on his bed, her hands shaking slightly as she pulled the blanket over his unmoving body. She tucked it in around him, smoothing out the wrinkles with tender strokes. Sandy took a seat by his side, her heart racing from the weight of what she'd just learned. Plankton lay there, completely still, his breathing shallow yet even. She studied his face, trying to read the secrets behind his glazed eye. It was eerie, yet in a strange way, like watching someone lost in a deep, unshakeable sleep. The room was bathed in soft light, the curtains filtering the harshness of the sun outside. The only sound was the faint tick of a clock on the nightstand and the even flow of air from the air conditioner. It was a contrast to the chaos of his seizure, and Sandy whispered, "You're safe here." Her eyes remained on his, waiting for the slightest movement. The minutes stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Then, as if waking from a deep slumber, Plankton's eye flickered. His gaze was unfocused, his pupil slowly expanding and contracting as he tried to adjust to the light, then confusion. She watched with bated breath as he blinked a few times. "Where… How?" he mumbled, his voice groggy and distant. "You had a… I saw you at the park, Plankton," Sandy said, her tone gentle. "You're home now. You're safe." Plankton's eye searched her face, the confusion deepening as he tried to piece together what happened. His gaze drifted to the window, where the world outside was a blur of colors and sounds. "Sandy?" he asked, his voice tentative. She nodded, her hand reaching out to squeeze his. "You're safe, Plankton. It's just..." But before Sandy could finish, he sat up with a start, his eye wide. "What happened?" He demands. Sandy's heart skipped a beat. "You had a seizure at the park," she explained. Plankton's hand flew to his face, his antennae drooping. "Oh, great," he murmured, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. The realization of his condition in front of someone who didn't know was clear in his expression. Sandy felt a pang of regret. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. "It's just a part o..." "I know what it is!" Plankton snapped, cutting her off. His frustration was palpable, his body rigid with embarrassment. "I don't need you to explain it to me!" Sandy took a step back, her hand falling to her side. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. Plankton's chest heaved with the effort of holding back his anger. He knew Sandy was just trying to help, but the sudden spotlight on his condition felt like an invasion of his personal space. "I'm sorry, I just..." Sandy began, but Plankton's frustration was like a dam bursting. "You just what?" he countered, his voice sharp. Sandy's cheeks burned. "I'm sorry, I just didn't know how to help. I've never..." "Seen me like this?" Plankton finished for her, his voice still edgy. Sandy nodded, feeling a knot form in her stomach. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just wanna ask you wh..." "Don't," Plankton interrupted, his voice brittle. "I don't want to talk about it." Sandy nodded, feeling the sting of his words. She backed away, giving him space. "Okay," she said softly. "But if you eve..." "Just go," Plankton interrupted, his voice smaller now, his eye watering. "I need some time alone." Sandy nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She knew his anger was a shield, a way to protect himself from the curiosity and sympathy he saw as invasive. She backed out of the room. She found Karen seated on the couch. "He ok?" Karen asked. Sandy nodded. "He's awake. He's just...upset?" Karen stood up, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "I'll go to him," she decided, heading to the bedroom. Sandy hovered by the door as Karen went in. "Plankton," Karen began, her voice gentle. "You're safe, love. It's ok." Sandy could see the tension in Karen as she approached the bed, her hand trembling as it reached out to touch Plankton's shoulder. His eye met hers, and for a moment, Sandy saw the raw pain and embarrassment in his gaze. "Let's all go to the living room," Karen whispered, her voice shaky. Plankton nodded. In the living room, the three of them sat down on the couch, the silence thick and uncomfortable. Sandy felt the urge to fill it with reassurances, but she held her tongue. Karen took Plankton's hand in hers, her thumb stroking the back of it in a comforting gesture. "I know it's hard," she said softly, "but it's ok. You're ok." Plankton nodded, his breathing still a little rapid, his expression guarded. "Do you remember anything?" Karen asked, her voice a gentle caress. Plankton's gaze drifted to the floor. "Just the park," he mumbled. "The swings." Sandy's eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?" Plankton's grip on the couch cushion tightened. "You don't need to know," he said, his voice edged with irritation. Karen gave a resigned sigh. "Plankton, San..." "I said I don't want to talk about it!" Plankton's voice was a sudden explosion, echoing through the room. Sandy flinched at his outburst. "Plankton, please," Karen interjected, her voice a calm contrast to the storm of his emotions. "Sandy's just trying to understand." But Plankton's anger was a wall, impenetrable. "I don't owe her anything!" he snapped, pulling his hand away from hers. "It’s not her business!" Sandy felt the sting of his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.." Karen put a hand on Sandy's shoulder, her eyes kind. "It's ok. It's new for you, and it's a lot to take in. Plankton just needs a bit of space." She turned to her husband, her voice soothing. "Honey, Sandy's our friend. She wants to be there for us." Sandy watched as Plankton's body visibly relaxed, his breathing evening out. His eye flickered up to meet hers, and she saw the apology in it. He took another deep breath, his shoulders dropping. "I know," he said, his voice smaller now. "I'm sorry." Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, her expression one of understanding. "It's ok," she said. "We're all trying to figure it out."