Adey murmurs, “You could with the right support. It’s never too late.”
Dair isn’t done yet. “You’re still smarter than I’ll ever be. You must be to keep trying to solve my problems. And theirs.” He doesn’t aim this at me. “So, you two better make it worth his while, yes?”
Blake salutes. Adey mirrors that movement, if more slowly, while Dair peppers me with questions.
“How didn’t I notice? We’ve spent so much time together.”
Not enough, in my opinion. Dair isn’t done trying to figure me out.
“We’ve eaten and drunk together. How do you know what to order, like at Adey’s coffee shop?”
“Coffee’s easy. Everywhere serves Americanos. Same with food at chain restaurants. They make it easy. Their menus are online. I get my phone to read them out before I go, and if what I choose isn’t available, I can just point at another photo on a menu. Or I can order the same as the person ahead.”
“Like you did at Greggs when I ordered a steak bake.” That isn’t a question. He’s slotting pieces of me together. “Do you even like black coffee?”
“Not much, but it’s easy.” I flash a look at watching Exes. “If the menu isn’t accessible beforehand, and I really don’t want to fuck up in front of people, I’ll rock up late after everyone’salready eaten. Or I don’t turn up at all. Sometimes that’s easier. Less stressful. I don’t have to spend the whole night sweating that someone will give me a wine list and expect me to order anything other than a house white or red.”
As one, every Ex frowns, maybe remembering how many meet-ups I’ve missed out on.
Dair moves on to another daily challenge. “How do you even find your way around the city? And do you—” Just as quickly, he says, “Sorry, sorry. You don’t have to answer.”
Here’s the thing: Outside this building, Adey told me I’d got the worst part over. That from now on, it would get easier, not harder. I don’t know about that. Easy isn’t how I feel in my skin right now, but I’m used to keeping going until a job is finished. “Go ahead,” I tell Dair. “If there’s something you want to know, I’ll tell you.” Three little words almost choke me. “Sorry I didn’t.”
“Don’t be.” He searches my face, perhaps checking if I can handle more before asking, “Does having aphasia mean you can’t drive? Like…” He digs a tooth into his lip. “Like if you wanted to borrow your cousin’s van sometime, could you?”
“I don’t drive.”
His expression does something complex that makes me rush to add, “I mean, I can drive. Just never sat my test, but there are ways to do that for people like me who are—” I hate the wordilliterate. It doesn’t describe who I was before more than reading and writing was stolen from me. “I could get a driving license and use satnav to get around. Never seemed much point. Kev always takes the wheel. And as for getting around the city, the Underground is colour coded and I can count stops.” Kev taught me the names and number of stations like other dads taught their kids times tables. “If I do get turned around by a line closure, I’ve got apps.” Or I’ve got my cousin, who can never stop himself from checking that I won’t get lost without him. And who always comes to my rescue, like I’d come to his if he needed.
Of course I fucking would. There’s no way I’d ever let him struggle. Not even for a minute, let alone for a lifetime.
I’m not sure that’s ever hit me harder.
This museum is full of artefacts dating back for generations. The history Kev and me share feels even older. My history with Dair is a whole lot shorter. I still need to tell him, “Believe me, I could find a way to get anywhere if I was needed.”
By you.
I’m distracted by one of the Exes asking, “What kind of apps do you use?”
“If I get turned around on the Tube? Ones that can read out signs for me. They usually work, as long as the signs are printed.” I take out my phone and point it at some display signage next to a tea set, and I turn up the volume. We all listen to my phone repeating a description—word for word, I assume. It states that we’re looking at an exceptional example of excellence in British ceramics. A tea set worth a fortune. The year of production is accurate. I see the number 1750 on the sign and hear my phone repeat it. It also states that this tea set is perfect. And priceless.
“Speech-to-text is an accessibility option on any phone these days.” I wince. “Don’t entirely trust it, so I avoid sending anything written unless my fam can check first.”
Adey lets out a small sound of understanding. “Which is why you don’t join in on the group chat?”
“I would if I could keep up with you gobby wankers.”
An Ex snorts a laugh, and I risk making the briefest of eye contact with an American I only know asCash Moneybecause an app has read his group-chat nickname to me so often. Harry told me how this Ex offered to finance my relocation if I needed. I wish I’d seen that offer pop up in the group chat and thanked him for it. We’ve never talked one-on-one before today. Don’t travel in the same international banking circles his nicknamesuggests he moves in. I guessed we’d have nothing in common, but I get chatty with him now about my own specialism.
“I don’t always get the chance to listen to your texts right away. Can’t always faff with my phone to listen while I’m working.” I backtrack a little. “And I can’t keep calling you Cash Money. What’s your real name?”
“It is Cash,” he promises. “The Money part is a long story. Carry on with yours, yes? I want to hear the rest of it.”
He nods so hard that I keep going. “By the time I’ve caught up, then used assistive tech to check and double-check my replies, you’ve all moved on to chatting shit about something else.”
I shut up when some more visitors to the museum pass us, only speaking again when they’ve moved on. Then I’m even gruffer than Kev gets each time he tells me I can come home. I know why he keeps making that offer. He’s spent years trying to save me from having to make exactly this kind of soul-sapping explanation.
“I wanted to join in. Couldn’t. Not without you all wondering why I was always so late to the party. Or why my replies made no sense. When you all use abbreviations or emojis, my tech guesses. Or it leaves gaps. I can’t always be sure I heard the whole convo before replying, so…”
