Page 41 of Take a Moment

The next couple of weeks pass uneventfully. In my new world of living with a life-changing illness, this is definitely a good thing. I get into a nice rhythm at work and my social life is quiet – it turns out my team only go out once a month, straight after payday – so I have plenty of downtime to rest and recuperate in the evenings and at weekends. This takes a bit of getting used to, my natural preference being to burn the candle pretty much anywhere it will burn.

So that I don’t expire from boredom or become a semi-permanent sofa accessory, I take up a membership at a leisure club just a ten-minute walk from my apartment. I’m still not able to pound the treadmill, so I start with some gentle swimming, having read online that it can be a good way of reducing MS-related fatigue. I also do some more exploring, so I’m knowledgeable enough as to what Birmingham has to offer in time for Sasha’s visit.

On the day of her arrival, I walk to work with what could almost be described as a spring in my step – or as close as I can get given that whenever I attempt a gradient beyond the pace of a tortoise, my body feels like it’s been hijacked by a ten-ton weight. The silver lining to that being, in the well-loved fable, the tortoise did eventually beat the hare. This appeals to my go-getter instinct.

It turns out to be a long day. For the first time since my day-one experience with the excruciatingly boring introductory e-learning modules, I find myself watching the clock. Because having realised that Sasha is still as important a part of my life as she always was, I’ve also realised how much I miss her. As the clock hits five past five, I decide it’s safe to make my bid for freedom, so I shut down my laptop and pack up my stuff.

‘That you off to meet your friend?’ Emmanuel looks up at me from the desk opposite.

‘Yeah, her train gets in just after half past.’ I throw the last of my things in my handbag, then lock my laptop, notebook and papers in my desk pedestal.

‘I hope you have a lovely long weekend together.’

‘Thanks, Emmanuel. And thanks for giving me tomorrow off at late notice. It won’t be a big weekend. More just a nice quiet catch-up.’

As I say this, I feel a twinge of annoyance at myself. With Emmanuel, I’ve gotten into the habit of permeating all conversations relating to my social life with the message that I’m behaving sensibly – just in case I end up off unwell at some point. Though Emmanuel never says anything directly, she has quickly become attuned to this.

‘Go have fun.’ She gives me a pointed look that I read as I-know-you’re-far-from-irresponsible-and-you-need-to-have-a-life-without-constantly-looking-over-your-shoulder.

‘OK, thanks.’ I nod my understanding, then say my goodbyes to everyone.

Heading for the lifts, I see Danielle flouncing in my direction, her laptop tucked under her arm. She makes eye contact with me, and I immediately know she’s going to make some kind of unwelcome remark.

‘Heading home already?’ Her tone is breezy, deliberately so: the cruise missile within her statement a stealth one.

Having just found myself justifying my social life to Emmanuel, it hits its intended target square on: exploding in my gut, irritation rushing through me like shrapnel. Even more so because this is the first time I’ve left the office before 5:45 p.m. – and Danielle regularly disappears off home before me. She really is a piece of work, but I refuse to show any weakness.

‘First time for everything, I guess.’ I mirror her false smile to see if she even picks up on it, which she doesn’t.

Once outside, I leave Brindley Place via the canal bridge, walk through the ICC, and pass the leaping fountains of Centenary Square, enjoying the fresh autumnal breeze that’s whipping around me as I go. As I make my way through Victoria Square, past the magnificent columns of the town hall and the late nineteenth century Council House, standing proud and full of grandeur, I feel a swell of excitement: not just for my weekend with Sasha, but also for how at home I already feel here. Halfway down New Street, I’m drawn to a busker singing a tuneful and energetic rendition of ‘Here Comes the Sun’ by the Beatles. His enthusiasm is contagious, and I’m quickly sucked into his music and singing along.

After a couple of minutes of musical escapism I realise I’m going to be late for Sasha, so I throw some money into his hat and continue on my way to the station.

Minutes after I arrive, I see Sasha wheeling her purple weekend case along the busy rush hour concourse. She looks unsure, navigating her way towards the exit barriers, commuters whizzing past and dodging in front of her, keen to get home as quickly as possible. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t got her ticket ready and inadvertently causes a jam in front of the automatic barriers, earning a few looks of irritation. I smile at her affectionately, wondering if this experience alone will be enough to put her off living here, but now hoping that won’t be the case.

Sasha hesitantly makes her way through the barrier, almost getting her case caught as she wrestles with it and her hand luggage. She continues to look exasperated and overwhelmed as I step forward to greet her, then she spots me and her face lights up like the Edinburgh sky at Hogmanay.

‘Lex. Oh, my goodness, I’m so happy to see you.’ She ditches her case and dives into my arms.

‘Is that because you’re having a total mare navigating your way round this station?’ I joke.

‘No.Obviously not. But this place is bonkers.’

‘It’s great to see you too.’ I give her a big squeezy hug in return.

She pulls back and looks at me properly. ‘If I may say, you lookreallywell, Lex.’

‘You may indeed.’ I reach out and grab the handle of her case, pulling it towards us as someone almost falls over it.

Sasha’s eyes pass over my face searchingly. ‘This place is obviously working for you.’

‘It really is, Sash. I love it here already. I feel so anonymous and free.’

‘Well, here’s hoping I fall in love with it too, eh?’ She grins at me.

For a moment all I see is fourteen-year-old Sasha, with her long tumbling red waves, train-track braces and a face full of innocence and hope for the future. Excitement bubbles inside of me at the thought of showing my best friend in the world my new home – and exploring it properly together.

‘Absolutely. Are you hungry?’

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