something.”
“Yeah, right!” said Sam.
Tom’s mind was apparently made up. “I’m going to have a word with Andy. No arguments.” He raised both hands once more, to fend off any protests from his daughters. “Come on, everyone eat up.” He turned to me. “Did you remember to pick up my dry cleaning?”
Chapter Five
When I got home from dropping Sam in town, I made myself a peppermint tea and began to think through my teaching plans for the rest of the week. I took my notebook and sat down at the kitchen table. I sipped my tea as I made my notes. It was dark outside and the lamp on the old dresser threw its soft light around me. The wall clock ticked quietly in the background and the boiler sang to itself in the cupboard in the corner. I heard footsteps upstairs and a door closing. Max would be going to bed. I drank the last of my tea and was just finishing off my preparation when Adam came into the kitchen.
“ Hello, how’s the studying going?” I asked.
“It’s not. I’m trying to study biology, but nothing’s going in and it’s so boring!”
“Do the diagrams not help – the ones the learning assistant made up to lessen the amount of reading you’ve to do?”
“It’s not the reading that’s making it hard,” he said, taking the seat next to me. “It’s just plain boring. All the diagrams in the world aren’t going to help. I don’t understand most of it and I can’t be bothered. I’m not going to pass anyway…”
“Oh, Adam,” I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t get discouraged. Of course you’ll pass. You’re tired. Have a hot drink and an early night.” I rubbed his back as I spoke. He twisted away from me.
“No, Mum! A cup of tea and an early night – what – what’s that all about? That’s not going to help. I’m not going to pass! I’m not going to pass any of them! Don’t you understand? I’m not clever like Sam and Jenny, and you can’t make it all right with your bloody stupid suggestions and a cuddle. I can’t be what you want me to be. I’m too thick.”
“What – you’re not thick! You have dyslexia, Adam – it’s no reflection on your intelligence – come on, you know that.”
“No I don’t. It’s all a load of shit. Why can’t you see it? I’m not going to university – to be a doctor like dad, or a teacher like you. It’s not going to happen.”
I reached out to him. “Adam, son, I-”
“No – no! Don’t. It’s not all going to be fine. You can’t make it all right. I’m not going to get my exams. You and dad, you need to get used to the idea.” With that he pushed past me and headed out of the kitchen. He met Tom in the doorway and kept on walking.
“What’s wrong with him?” Tom raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, exam nerves I expect. He thinks he’s going to fail his exams. He says we need to get used to the fact that he’s thick – not university material.”
“What? He simply needs to apply himself, get studying, instead of mooning about in his room, messing about with those fish of his and reading those car magazines. He should have cut back on working at that karting place as well, spent more time on his school work. He needs to get a grip on what’s important. I’ll speak to him. Sort him out.”
“No, Tom, please - don’t! He needs to calm down and get a good night’s rest. It’s too late now anyway. He’s probably just a bit insecure because of the dyslexia. He doesn’t moon about –not really. I’ll have a quiet word when he’s not so wound up.” I knew Tom would go over the top and shout, and Adam would shout back, and nobody would get anywhere.
“Hmm – you’ll be too soft,” Tom said. “I know you. He needs a kick up the backside.”
I considered arguing – mentioning how vulnerable Adam was. But I knew from previous conversations that it would be pointless.
“Anyway,” Tom said, “I came through to tell you your dear brother phoned– wanted to talk over how it’s going with
Brenna Ehrlich, Andrea Bartz