Jada rolled her eyes and corrected herself. ‘And we are grateful for how much of yourself you give to your work to support your family,’ she added, as if reading from a prompter. ‘But Matthew looks forward to being reunited with his long-lost father soon.’
The mention of Matthew stung. He was Anthony’s weak spot. Anthony’s mother had moved them from Saint Lucia back to her native England when her marriage to his father had fallen apart. She had also later made him watch her feed each photograph of his dad through a shredder until none remained.
Anthony was four years old when Anthony Snr had last been in touch. All he remembered of his father’s appearance were the opal-coloured eyes they shared, which paired with their golden-brown skin, made them both stand out in a crowded room. From an early age, Anthony promised himself that when he had a family of his own, he would be there for them. Yet despite his best intentions, he was failing.
‘How is Matthew?’ Anthony asked.
‘He’s fine,’ Jada said, but there was something rehearsed about her response. He rested his chopsticks against his bowl. ‘Honestly?’ he asked.
Jada took a moment. ‘I didn’t want to worry you but he’s been struggling again at school.’
‘Define struggling?’
‘Same as before. He’s finding it hard to concentrate on subjects that involve sitting and listening for prolonged periods. He becomes disruptive. He has no problem with gym, arts, design and technology because his body or his hands are moving. And coding classes where he gets to think and be creative – well, he takes after you with that. But English, geography, history and maths . . . that’s when his ADHD kicks in and he starts losing attention and distracting the rest of the class. You saw him at lunch with my sister and Marley; he couldn’t keep that phone out of his hand for a minute.’
‘All kids are like that.’
‘Not to his extreme. And have you tried keeping his focus on homework lately?’ They were both acutely aware that Anthony had not. ‘It’s easier herding bees.’
‘What about all those coping mechanisms his therapist gave him? Is he using them?’
‘Some, but not often enough.’
‘Maybe his teachers are exaggerating the extent of the problem. He’s still only seven so his concentration skills are finite.’
‘This goes beyond how long he can concentrate for.’
‘So let’s hire a tutor or find him another, better therapist, look outside of the NHS+.’
Jada shook her head. Anthony knew by her expression what she wanted him to say. ‘I’m not medicating him because he has a short attention span,’ he said firmly.
‘Treatments today aren’t like what they gave you at his age. We won’t be pumping him full of drugs.’
Anthony was adamant in his refusal to medicate Matthew. He didn’t want him to suffer the side effects he had endured like mood swings, jitteriness and lack of creativity. He accepted the chemicals in these tablets had been recalibrated since he was a boy, but the idea of medicinal control didn’t sit comfortably with him. Then two split-second flashbacks appeared of his mother. The first was from when he was a boy sitting next to her in the waiting room of a doctor’s surgery; a second, unrelated one, was the last time he ever saw her, formally identifying her body on a mortician’s slab.
‘It’s just a patch he’d wear on his arm when he feels like he’s being overloaded,’ continued Jada. ‘The App to control it would be on his phone; he’d be in charge of how much help he needed.’
Anthony shook his head. ‘Medication slowed down my creativity and turned me into a zombie. I don’t want that for Matthew.’
‘I get that, and no one ever asked you how you felt or if you wanted help.’ Jada placed a hand on his. ‘Have you ever sat down with Matthew and told him what it’s like for you? I’ve told him it’s okay to be different but it would mean more to hear it come from you.’
Anthony bristled. ‘Isn’t that why he went to therapy?’
‘It’s not the same as hearing it from his daddy.’
Anthony retracted his hand and put his tray of half-eaten food on the floor. ‘You’re guilt-tripping me.’
Jada opened her mouth to reply but appeared to think better of it. Aware once again of the Audite, she changed tack.
‘All I’m suggesting is that it can’t do any harm if you were to let him into your life more. Next Wednesday, book the afternoon off work. Matthew has a half day at school and you can go swimming or take a bike ride around Pitsford Reservoir. He needs to know that even if you’re busy, you’re here for him.’
‘I can’t, I’m in New Birmingham for a meeting,’ he replied. It was only a partial lie.
‘Can’t you do a video conference?’
‘It needs to be in person.’
Jada’s tone suggested she was trying her best to keep her enthusiasm buoyant. ‘The weekend then?’
