Page 11 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
How could I not have noticed he was in a wheelchair? Yes, it was incredibly bright out here this evening and I’d been temporarily blinded when I’d come out of the pub, but how had I been so caught up in my own drama that I hadn’t noticed he was disabled?
I think about the first time we’d met and how he’d been incredibly reluctant to come downstairs to open the door of his shop. Was that because it would have taken him so long to get down to me?
And just now I’d thought how very unchivalrous he was being when he hadn’t got up to greet me.
Damn it, Kate! You really need to open your eyes to the bigger picture, I scold myself.There’s you worrying about a few paintbrush sales while Jack is attempting to open a shop in his condition.
‘Hey, you’re still here then,’ Jack says as he emerges from the door of the pub. I watch as he expertly manoeuvres his chair through the narrow gap back to our table. ‘I thought you might have left.’
‘No, still here,’ I say, feeling very uncomfortable.Should I address the fact I hadn’t noticed he was in a wheelchair or just ignore it?
‘You got served quickly,’ I say instead, to make conversation.
‘Always do,’ Jack says, placing the pint of beer he’d been expertly balancing on his lap on the table. ‘People tend to stand aside when they see you in this thing.’
‘A-ha …’ I say, not knowing how to react to this.
Jack looks at me with a half-confused, half-amused expression. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’re still here,’ he says, settling himself at the table again. ‘I don’t know that many people here in St Felix yet. It’s good I know you now … even if you do think I’m going to ruin your business.’
‘No,’ I say, waving my hand dismissively at him. ‘That’s all sorted now. Don’t worry about it.’
Jack’s eyes narrow as he considers my sudden about-turn. ‘You didn’t know I was in a wheelchair, did you?’ he asks suddenly.
‘Hmm?’ I ask innocently. ‘What do you mean?’ I lift my drink up and wish I hadn’t drunk all my juice while he was gone. I place my empty glass awkwardly back on the wooden table.
‘I mean you hadn’t noticed until I went to get my pint that I was in a wheelchair?’
I shrug. ‘I guess not.’
‘And is that why you’re suddenly being as nice as pie – because you feel sorry for me?’
‘No.’
Jack raises his dark eyebrows at me. ‘Oh, really?’
I sigh. ‘Okay, so I didn’t know you were disabled when I came banging on your door earlier and, no, I didn’t notice you were in a wheelchair until just now. That isn’t a crime, is it?’
Jack shakes his head. ‘Nope. Neither is treating someone differently because they’re not able-bodied like you, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.’
He takes a long, slow, purposeful drink from his pint of beer.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘Still being nice?’
‘Look, what do you want from me?’ I snap in a loud voice. I look hastily at the other pub-goers sitting around us, but they’re far too busy with their own conversations to notice my outburst. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry, and I am. What else can I do?’
‘Just treat me like you would any other awkward, obnoxious guy you meet,’ Jack says, smiling now. ‘That’s all I ask. I admired your spirit up until a few moments ago, then you did exactly what ninety-nine per cent of people do on meeting me – you patronized me.’
‘I did not!’
Jack simply shrugs.
‘All right … maybe I did a bit, but I was surprised that’s all … that I hadn’t noticed it before – your chair, I mean.’
‘I take that as a compliment,’ Jack says, looking so directly into my eyes it unnerves me a little. ‘People always see the chair before they see me. I’m always a second thought.’
‘I’m sure that can’t be true.’
