Page 117 of The Truth About You and Me
My throat is dry, and I’m so out of breath, I can barely speak as I climb on.
‘Thank you,’ I gasp.
‘No bother,’ he replies. The train is packed, but I’m too busy trying to catch my breath, my hands on my knees, blood rushing to my face.
‘Would you like a drink?’ I’m confused for a minute, then he passes me an unopened bottle of water. I sag with relief.
‘Thanks.’ I reach out, tentatively reaching for the bottle.
The train jerks, my balance lost.
I slam into him.
I brace myself, waiting for his thoughts to shoehorn their way into my subconscious.
Oops. I… the… nev… min…
I look down to where his hand is under my elbow steadying me.
‘You OK?’ he asks. ‘You’re as white as a sheet.’
I can hear him. But it’s fainter than usual. Not whole words, but fractured pieces.
A flush of gentle heat spreads through me.
Damn it. I forg… ot… br… d
What is happening? I jolt slightly. My own thoughts so much louder than his.
‘Sorry, would you mind if I…’ He frowns as I place my hand on his arm. ‘I feel a little dizzy,’ I say in explanation. I close my eyes and concentrate. His words are faint. Still there, but the more I concentrate on my own thoughts spinning through my mind, the louder my voice becomes, and the more distant his. I’m in control of the volume, the dial still set at ten. It’s just as Phillip told me. I’m in control.
The sound of my own heart beating, and my own jumbled thoughts is first and foremost in my mind… His is like an echo, so quiet that I’m having to concentrate on them. My eyes flash open.
‘I can’t hear you properly…’
‘Sorry?’
‘I…’ A bubble of laughter explodes from my mouth. I cover it up, but laugh again. I grip his arm. ‘I can’t hear you properly!’ The guy looks at me as if I have lost my marbles, and who knows, maybe I have?
I let him go and look towards the carriage, people are standing, swaying as the train makes its way towards Jack.
For my entire life, I have been different. I’ve unknowingly adhered to that sign above the sink in that small room with the poster:Don’t touch. Stay safe.Lived my life trying to be the happy boy sitting with his legs crossed:Think. Know. Listen.
Losing Riz, loving Jack, finding the key and opening the door to myself means that I can open up to all the joys and fears that come hand in hand with a life filled with possibility. A life I want to grab with both hands.
‘Thank you. For the drink. I’m going to see if I can find a seat!’ He raises his eyebrows in an ‘ohhhhkaaay…’ movement.
I try not to get too excited. It might come back. The thoughts might get worse and be louder next time. But still, I move away and begin stepping into the main part of the carriage, my arms bumping against elbows, legs brushing past man-spreaders. And still. The thoughts are only whispers.
The train is pulling into another stop and I step aside. A woman with a thick black topknot and bulky blue jacket sets a small child on her hip as she gets up and tries to reach down for her suitcase above. I hesitate. What if this newthingwears off? But the words come from my mouth, regardless of my concerns.
‘Would you like me to hold her?’ Words I never thought I would say are tripping out of my mouth like I’m used to saying them every day.
Her shoulders sag with relief. ‘That would be great.’
She passes the warm bundle into my open arms. I prepare myself, but as the little girl wrapped in a bright pink sleep suit lands in my arms, and as the sway of the train means I bump hips with the teenaged boy reading his phone, no coherent thoughts push their way into mine. Just a gentle roll of vowels and the odd snap ofmumma, but I’m having to concentrate hard to hear them. I let the tension inside relax. Instead, I focus on the powdery-sweet smell of her, feel her tiny pudgy fingers reaching for the silver stud in my ear. ‘Hello,’ I say. She doesn’t look at me, instead her wide blue eyes are transfixed by my earring. ‘I’m Maggie.’
‘Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,’ the woman says and I pass the little girl back, the soft hum of her thoughts easing away like a dandelion seed floating away on the wind.
