“This is for you.”
Her heart turned over in her chest as he thrust the blue plastic bag towards her.
“What is it?” She fingered the bag, and something like panic filled her.
“Open it.”
She didn’t want to. Suddenly, the hope of a gift she might treasure, that she could add to all her others, evaporated. Within the innocuous plastic bag was a book.
Slowly, she lifted it out, holding her breath, hoping that the image on the front would reveal something of its contents.
No luck.
It was a simple black background with gold lettering. The font used was beautiful but swirling fonts were the nail in the coffin for reading. It was almost impossible at the best of times but with lettering like this, Claudia knew she had no chance of making out the title of the book.
She had blagged her way through hundreds of awkward interactions just like this. She could fake this one too. “Thank you, Stavros. You didn’t have to do that.” The acknowledgement was forced and she knew he must have been able to detect her reluctance.
She turned to face him and forced a smile, but it triggered an answering frown on his face.
“It’s only a joke,” he said softly, his eyes roaming her features questioningly.
“A joke?” Her pulse pounded through her like a raging torrent. Was it possible that he knew about her dyslexia after all? That he was making fun of it? The very idea slammed against her. Pain lanced her gut and her sense of self quivered.
Why did she care so much? Why was he the one person she couldn’t bear to have learn the truth?
“You think this is funny?” She whispered, when he didn’t answer. The book sat in her lap like a heavy anvil. She swallowed but felt her throat thicken with tears.
“Well, you cannot deny the similarities.”
Similarities? Claudia jerked her head to his in surprise and he took the gesture as an invitation to co
ntinue.
“Headstrong, willful, disobedient…” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, as though he expected Claudia to laugh. As though it was all a joke and she should find it funny.
She couldn’t and she didn’t.
“I see.” She didn’t. She stuffed the book into the car door’s pocket and stared resolutely out of her window, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She felt his eyes on her, she felt them as though they were beaming lasers into the back of her head, but still she didn’t move.
All she could do was think about the book and wonder what he had chosen to taunt her with? And feel like an absolute fool, yet again, for not being able to so much as read the title.
Functionally she was illiterate. And it didn’t matter how many teachers had told her she was smart in other ways, that her dyslexia just meant her brain was wired differently, she had never really believed it.
All she saw was the failing of her mind. She had tried so hard, and never been able to make her eyes translate what they saw into anything other than pretty shapes on a page.
“Claudia?” He asked, pulling the car out into traffic. “It was just a joke.”
“I know that,” she muttered, without looking at him. She couldn’t. She was afraid that she might cry and she didn’t want to do that. Not yet. Not until she was in the safety of her own bedroom.
They drove in silence but it was not comfortable nor companionable. It prickled with tension and questions. Questions she definitely didn’t want to answer. When he pulled to a stop at the side of the house, she undid her seatbelt and pushed out of the car without a moment’s hesitation. She didn’t run to the house, but she walked as fast as she could, her head bent, her manner not inviting his company.
“Claudia.” It was a stern reprimand she didn’t heed. She shouldered the door inwards, kicked off her shoes and moved down the hallway until she reached the stairs. She knew he was behind her but she didn’t stop.
She could barely breathe.
All of the embarrassment she’d felt at her failings were shredding through her. He’d made a joke. About her. A joke about her strong-willed nature and obstinacy. Maybe it had been funny? More likely, it wasn’t.
But she’d never know.