The Marriage Act(24)
Jada shook her head. Anthony knew by her expression what she wanted him to say. ‘I’m not medicating him because he has a short attention span,’ he said firmly.
‘Treatments today aren’t like what they gave you at his age. We won’t be pumping him full of drugs.’
Anthony was adamant in his refusal to medicate Matthew. He didn’t want him to suffer the side effects he had endured like mood swings, jitteriness and lack of creativity. He accepted the chemicals in these tablets had been recalibrated since he was a boy, but the idea of medicinal control didn’t sit comfortably with him. Then two split-second flashbacks appeared of his mother. The first was from when he was a boy sitting next to her in the waiting room of a doctor’s surgery; a second, unrelated one, was the last time he ever saw her, formally identifying her body on a mortician’s slab.
‘It’s just a patch he’d wear on his arm when he feels like he’s being overloaded,’ continued Jada. ‘The App to control it would be on his phone; he’d be in charge of how much help he needed.’
Anthony shook his head. ‘Medication slowed down my creativity and turned me into a zombie. I don’t want that for Matthew.’
‘I get that, and no one ever asked you how you felt or if you wanted help.’ Jada placed a hand on his. ‘Have you ever sat down with Matthew and told him what it’s like for you? I’ve told him it’s okay to be different but it would mean more to hear it come from you.’
Anthony bristled. ‘Isn’t that why he went to therapy?’
‘It’s not the same as hearing it from his daddy.’
Anthony retracted his hand and put his tray of half-eaten food on the floor. ‘You’re guilt-tripping me.’
Jada opened her mouth to reply but appeared to think better of it. Aware once again of the Audite, she changed tack.
‘All I’m suggesting is that it can’t do any harm if you were to let him into your life more. Next Wednesday, book the afternoon off work. Matthew has a half day at school and you can go swimming or take a bike ride around Pitsford Reservoir. He needs to know that even if you’re busy, you’re here for him.’
‘I can’t, I’m in New Birmingham for a meeting,’ he replied. It was only a partial lie.
‘Can’t you do a video conference?’
‘It needs to be in person.’
Jada’s tone suggested she was trying her best to keep her enthusiasm buoyant. ‘The weekend then?’
He was about to argue again but changed his mind. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he conceded. It placated her for now. They finished their meal together, and Jada placed their empty dishes back on the tray and made her way out of his office. ‘I love you,’ she reminded him.
But Anthony couldn’t help but notice how, when she said it, her eyes flitted for the briefest of moments towards the device between them rather than him. It was as if she was hoping that, if their conversation was being monitored, it had picked up on what she had said and not the perceptible tension hanging in the air.
19
Arthur
The car journey to Arthur’s house was brief. It had almost taken him the same time to pull his stiff joints from the rear seats of Relationship Responder Lorraine Shrewsbury’s vehicle and back out onto the pavement. A distant version of him would think nothing of carrying a 220lb unconscious man over his shoulder. Now he struggled with a shopping bag. Aging was a complication he could do without.
His hand was trembling so much that it took three attempts to type in the code before his front door unlocked. Once it was open, he and his two uninvited guests came to a halt in the hallway.
‘Are you proud of what you do?’ he asked Shrewsbury. ‘Interfering with people’s lives? Harassing people? Making untrue accusations?’
‘No one is saying you’re guilty of anything, Arthur. But it’s my job to help people when they need it, even if they don’t immediately realize it. Where’s Mrs Foley?’
‘She’s gone out.’
Shrewsbury removed a tablet from her handbag and scrolled through it. ‘According to our medical notes, your wife is bedbound and non-communicative.’
‘Who’s there?’ came June’s voice from upstairs. Arthur’s eyes moved in her direction. ‘Arthur?’ she repeated. ‘Is that you?’
Shrewsbury’s eyes followed his then switched to her colleague. ‘Can you confirm she’s all right and explain who we are and why we are here?’ she asked the woman.
‘Don’t you touch her!’ Arthur shouted. ‘Don’t you bloody touch her!’
‘She won’t, Arthur, I promise you,’ Shrewsbury replied. And for the first time, he recognized sympathy in her expression.
She continued to talk but Arthur had stopped listening. Instead, his eyes were drawn to a framed photograph on the wall of him and June in their uniforms. Decades before genes dictated who your perfect match was, he had known June was the one the day she was transferred to his station.
‘Lorraine, could you join me for a moment, please?’ her colleague’s voice came from upstairs.
‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she directed to Arthur.
‘Don’t scare June,’ he said anxiously. ‘She’ll be confused; she won’t know who you are.’