Page 96 of Unapologetic Love Story

‘My brain just doesn’t stop. I know that. I know that. But that’s what I think about when I look at other people. They aren’t one of two things. They don’t fall into a column. So, if I assume bad faith, what happens then? If Tom does screw me over, Pep, will it be easier to bear because I was waiting for it? Will it hurt less? Does the landing feel better if you know you’re about to be pushed off the cliff? Do your bones break differently? Does your heart?’

The two of them sat in silence.

‘I just want to protect you,’ Pepper finally whispered. ‘No one has ever taken care of you, Rai.’

‘I’ve done a pretty good job of it myself, Pepper.’

Day-to-day niceties and protections weren’t always given to those who were different. Raina remembered the day she’d finally worked out that the girls complimenting her outfit and asking where she’d got her vintage clothes from were actually making fun of her. She remembered the humiliation and the urge to feel jaded. Same with the teachers who told her she would probably never hold down a job. The line manager who had taken unrepentant pleasure in cornering her in the office, then gaslighting her when she went to human resources.

‘You’re probably confused because of your . . . condition,’ they’d told her.

A cornucopia of bullies and harassers and people laughing at you made bitterness and cynicism easy. Natural, even. Raina knew how tempting it was to fall into the arms of self-pity. So, she went in search of better. Her subscribers, her community, the little niche she’d carved out for herself – it was a pure antidote to the venom.

The only catch was, to find that, you had to choose peace. You had to choose seeing the best in people. You had to choose nuance. You had to choose to have hope.

‘I think Tom actually likes me,’ she told Pepper, the words fragile but steady. ‘I think he really does.’

Pepper’s face was a storm, a million opinions on those words ready to break loose. Instead, she sighed and kissed Raina’s forehead.

‘What’s not to like? Now start on the mailing labels.’

Tom was stretched out on his small double bed with his laptop on his knees. He was working through some emails and counting down the hours until he could see Raina again when he suddenly remembered something she’d mentioned the day before when he’d been helping her with sensory overload. They’d been in a darkened bedroom and he’d stroked her feet until she felt calm. Something had upset her. A nasty email.

He typed into his search engine. The first gossip site that popped up had subcategories. Celebrities, B-list celebrities, actors, musicians, influencers and vloggers/podcasters. Tom clicked on the latter, expecting the content to be thin. On the contrary, there were thousands of names. He searched alphabetically and found Raina.

His heart almost stopped when he laid eyes on the number of comments.

I wish she would look directly into the camera, it’s so annoying how she only does it some of the time.

So BORING!! Literally who gives a shit about her. Why is she still talking? And when is she going to act her fucking age?! I am so sick of this woman. She thinks she’s so fucking special and it’s insufferable. My sister works with autistic kids and they’re nothing like her. Stupid bitch.

Sorry, at what point do we as a society stop all this nonsense? Everyone has to have a fucking label. No, you’re not autistic, you’re just weird. You’re not ADHD, you’re just lazy. Like, why do people think they can be constant victims?

Her hair is too long, she should cut it off for charity. It’s selfish. Loads of people would love to have long hair like hers.

I only watched half of that uploaded episode with the ADHD woman, I got so bored. There really is a label for everything now. They just want to be quirky and different.

I don’t see how she can have autism, because she’s always wearing make-up and feminine clothing. Aren’t they meant to be super boyish? Not being mean, that’s just what I thought. My mum’s cousin works with kids like that and that’s what she said.

I think it’s gross hearing disabled people talking about sex, sorry. I just do. I hate her so much. Anyone know why she hasn’t uploaded on time today? I keep refreshing but it’s not there.

Tom slammed his computer closed so violently it made a slapping sound.

She was too autistic for them. She wasn’t autistic enough. She talked about her own experience too often. Then she was too private about her worst moments.

Like so many women, nothing she did was ever good enough.

He searched for the names of some of his previous subjects.

He soon wished he hadn’t.

There were far fewer messages of condemnation under their names. Tom was both repulsed and fascinated by the fact that a man who’d lied about brain cancer earned less reproach and judgement than Raina. Stricken that a woman who decried modern medicine was thought to be, by these people’s standards, less problematic than a young, self-acceptance podcaster.

Tom felt the itch of a story. He snatched up some Post-its to add to his conspiracy-theorist board. He scribbled down the nasty comments so he could quote them in a future piece. A piece about the inconsistent outrage on the internet. Or something. He didn’t know yet.

He pinned the quotes up, still teeming with affront as he read them back. He was about to start a new draft when there was a knock on the door. He frowned, as company was completely unexpected in this little cave. He sauntered to the door and peered through the tiny spyhole.

‘It’s us!’ Seb’s voice pushed through the wood of the door, causing Tom to leap back. He sighed but undid the lock and ushered them both in.