Page 30 of The Truth About You and Me
‘Now, you see, this is where we disagree.’
Growing up, there was never a limitation in my parents’ eyes of what we could or couldn’t do. Go out and get shitfaced if you want. Call us when you need picking up. Want to take a year out of uni? Sure, fill your boots. Go back to uni when you’re ready. Marry a girl who is completely wrong for you? It’s your call. But we’ll be here if you change your mind. We can cancel the wedding at any time. They always believed in letting us find our own path, our own limitations, our own triumphs – which is why this intervention from him is so hard to take.
‘You have never given up on anything in your life, Jack. It’s not in you. Chadwick’s was your dream, and we have done everything we can to support you. But enough is enough. I’m not going to stand by and watch you throw it all away because of one setback.’
Maggie’s words echo through my thoughts:I don’t think you’re ready either…
‘A setback?’ I raise my voice. ‘A fuckingsetback?’
I walk over to the bookshelf and pull out a book – I recognise the cover asThe Water on Horseback. The spine is cracked, the pages well worn. I’ve read this book at least five times. I take a breath and open the pages, clearing my throat dramatically. ‘Page one.’ I stare at the symbols dancing around the page then stride towards him pointing to the text, flexing open the pages.
I stare at the symbols, the pain at the back of my skull already pounding, the feeling of failure sitting squat-like in my stomach. ‘Do you know what it says?’ I ask him. ‘DO YOU?’ Dad doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break eye contact. ‘No, because you can’t see the fucking words on the page from there. That’s how hard it is.’ I drop the book onto the coffee table. A dirty wine glass tips. The sound of the glass cracking in two rings out, like an exclamation mark.
‘Have you finished?’ Dad asks calmly.
‘Yes. We’re done.’
‘I hate to break it to you, son. But we’re not. I have never interfered with your life, because I knew you would learn from your own mistakes, but it’s beenmonthsand you still haven’t learnt a thing.’
‘I told you that I couldn’t do it after the stroke. After Vicky walked…’
‘And yet you still took out the loan to cover her share. Why would you do that if you didn’t think you could do it?’
‘I didn’t know then how hard it would be, Dad. I thought I couldfixit, fixme, but I was wrong.’
‘Maybe you’re right. But we have one job as parents and that is to teach our children to live a happy and fulfilling life, and to find happiness.’ I roll my eyes at his attempt at an inspirational speech.
I’m breathing heavily as I slump down onto the sofa.
‘You have to understand… that dream died the moment my head cracked open.’ I take a minute. ‘A new shop needs agoodmanager, Dad. Someone who can at least read.’
He shakes his head. ‘You can’t keep burying your head in the sand. It’s time for you to take control of your responsibilities. Here’s what I propose. I’ve found a specialist. An intensive course that?—’
‘Dad, I—’ I let out an exasperated sigh. ‘No.’ I’m breathing quickly. My ears are filled with a rushing sound. Dad stands and clamps his hands on my shoulders, guides me back to the sofa.
‘Just hear me out. Dr Levin has helped hundreds of people with reading difficulties gain back some of their abilities. It won’t “fix” you, for want of a better word, but it may mean you will regain some of the missing cognitive function.’
His words are slamming into me like a train crash, each one concertinaing into the other. ‘He’s had incredible results. He can help you.’
‘He can’t.’
‘So what then? Subletting the place is your answer?’
‘If that’s what it takes.’
‘You’re going to throw away your dreams and replace it with… I don’t know, a palm reader or one of those woo-woo tenants with crystals and incense sticks?’
I let his words land, the implications of the financial burden I’ve put on myself. The lower rent from the holding loan will run out soon and once it goes up to full price? I could lose everything. This shop, my flat, Nell’s job would be gone. Something like shame encroaches into the room.
But I know it won’t work. I’ve already tried.
‘Just… promise me you’ll think about it?’
I look at the hope in his eyes and find myself nodding, even though I know that I’m already too broken, and no one, not even this Dr Levin, can help.
Dad’s face breaks into a grin and I hate that I’m letting him hope. He claps his hands together, all optimism and sunshine.
‘Now then. Tell me all about the new lady in your life.’
