Page 98 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘What about me?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I thought I made it clear at your flat that’s not how I see you at all.’
‘Well, yes, but that’s different – you were just being nice, weren’t you? Like you always are. I’m talking about everyone else.’
‘Hmm.’ I sit back in my chair thoughtfully. ‘So I’d be wasting my time sitting here telling you that’s not what anyone else sees either?’
‘Yep, pretty much.’
‘Right, then, I won’t, but you are very, very wrong about this, Jack. I can’t tell you how wrong.’
‘But you can’t deny the contrast,’ Jack says, taking my bait as I knew he would. ‘The decorated brave soldier was the person I used to be, and this,’ he gestures in disgust towards his legs and his chair, ‘is the thing I am now.’
‘Stop that right now,’ I tell him sternly.
‘What?’
‘Feeling sorry for yourself. You were very clear when we first met that pity was the last thing you wanted from me, so you’re not allowed the honour of feeling it for yourself.’
Jack glares at me, but I stare back at him with an equally challenging expression.
‘You’ve every right to feel sad. Every right to feel aggrieved at the life you’ve lost. Any normal person would, but what you’re not allowed to do is refer to yourself as a thing. You’re still the same person you used to be. Just because your body isn’t quite as complete as it once was, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have compassion for yourself, and faith in those who love and care for you.’
Jack’s expression has been softening gradually throughout my little speech. Now his face looks back at me with tenderness, rather than anger.
‘You’re right, of course,’ he says quietly. ‘About everything. I just can’t help it sometimes.’
‘That’s totally understandable,’ I say, taking his hand across the table. ‘Anyone who’s been through the shock and transformation that you have is going to have their off days – days when they doubt themselves and their worth. If you didn’t grieve for what your life used to be there would be something wrong with you, but never for one moment doubt the worth of your existence now. You, Jack Edwards, mean too many things to too many people.’
‘Including you?’ Jack says, looking into my eyes.
‘Especially me,’ I reply, squeezing his hand. ‘After all, who else am I going to find to watch my secret soap opera with?’
I smile at Jack, and he grins back.
‘That’s very true. No one else would believe it, would they? I’m still not sure I really do, and I’ve been invested in every episode.’
We gaze at each other over the table, still holding hands.
‘I’m sorry about just now,’ Jack says sheepishly. ‘You don’t need to be burdened with my worries.’
‘Neither you nor your worries are a burden. I’m glad you shared all that with me – it somehow makes you more … human.’
Jack laughs, ‘More human? What did you see me as before then? A superhero in a wheelchair?’
‘No, but you do have a certain invincibility about you.’
‘Really? Even in this?’
‘Definitely. Most of the time I forget you’re even in it. Remember when we first met I had no idea until you went to buy a drink.’
‘That was funny – your face was a picture.’
‘That’s what I mean. I just thought you were an awkward, obstinate, pig-headed bloke full of himself and his own importance.’
Jack laughs again. ‘That does sound like me – but what do you think now?’
