When I was much younger, I never thought twice about introducing my brother to people. But as I got older, I started to notice the different reactions others have to meeting someone with Down’s syndrome.
If I don’t hold them in particularly high regard, I’m lessnervous. The only time I really care is when I don’t want to think less of the person because of the way they react to my brother.
In Finn’s case, I care. If he turns out to be a twat, I’ll be gutted.
Out of the corner of my eye, I register Finn’s frozen stance as Michael comes along the tiny garden path, his expression transforming in the blink of an eye from happy to wary when he sees that I have company.
‘This is my brother, Michael,’ I say to Finn.
‘Who’s that?’ Michael asks me bluntly, his eyebrows bunching together in his inimitably expressive way.
‘This is Finn,’ I reply.
‘Hi!’ Finn lunges forward with his hand outstretched.
Michael hesitates, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He gives Finn’s hand a single perfunctory shake and drops it like a hot potato.
I suppress a small smile as he wipes his palm on his jeans.
My brother takes no prisoners.
‘Has Dad finished murdering the lawn?’ he asks me.
I’ve never thought my brother’s speech hard to understand, but it can take others a minute. Though Finn would probably look confused regardless.
‘Yes,’ I say to Michael, before explaining to Finn. ‘In our family we say “murdering the lawn” instead of “mowing” it. Years ago, Michael and I played on the grass right after dad had mowed it and got covered in grass stains. Michael thought it looked like the grass had bled all over our hands. Our mum had read something about how some plants can send distress signals to each other and said that Michaelmight have a point. Apparently, the smell of freshly mown grass that people love is actually a distress signal. Our family has substituted “murdering” for “mowing” ever since.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Finn replies with a smile. He shifts on his feet. ‘Hey, I should catch up with my brothers. They’ve probably fallen in the stream by now.’
‘Of course. See you later.’
He sidesteps me, looking awkward, and once again I worry that I’ve rambled on too much.
‘Bye,’ he says to Michael.
Michael doesn’t reply. His eyes have narrowed once more.
Finn has barely taken three steps away from us when Michael says, ‘Who was that dick?’
My stomach drops as Finn comes to an abrupt stop. He turns around and looks at my brother.
‘Did you just call me a dick?’ he asks slowly, raising an eyebrow.
‘Oh, you understand me now?’ Michael replies, a smile flickering at the edge of his lips.
‘Unbelievable,’ Finn mutters, shaking his head as he strides down the slippery path with his long legs.
I stare at Michael and he shrugs at me, visibly entertained.
‘You’re awful,’ I chide, unable to hide my own smile. ‘I’m just going to the bakery to get us some pasties for lunch, but Mum and Dad are waiting if you want to head there now.’
I’d planned to grab him on my way back.
‘Ooh, good,’ he replies, clapping his hands and rubbing them together with glee. ‘Get me three,’ he commands, coming out through the gate.
‘Threepasties?’
‘Three,’ he states firmly.
