Page 11 of The Chemistry Test

Penny

I feel like I’m starting to get into a more sustainable routine now.

Since I told Amy and Ro about how ill I am in the mornings, I don’t feel as pressured to be out there doing things with them all the time anymore.

In fact, my mornings are pretty similar to being at home.

I reach for my phone and let the blue light help wake me up.

I’m the only person I know who willingly leans into it in the mornings, rather than worrying about it melting my eyes and ruining my circadian rhythm, but I just can’t seem to wake myself up without it.

Then, when I’m ready, I prop myself back up, put my hips back in (which always have the audacity to partially dislocate in my sleep), and haul out my laptop again.

There’s not much on my Instagram feed this morning and I’ve already shared my weekly health hacks and highlights that my followers tune in for, so I make my way over to my website instead.

There seems to be a few new messagers every day, but since barely any of them message on a regular basis, it’s not hard to reply to everyone.

It’s actually quite energising, and I find myself craving the change in pace of going from (mostly) recipient of help in my real life, to actively being the helper online.

It doesn’t take me long to breeze through the first five messages, but my fingers hover over my keyboard when I get to one from the person who sent the trigger warning last time. I mentally prepare myself before opening it, just in case.

Hi again,

Thanks, I really appreciate that. So, here’s the thing.

I lost my gran last year, and I think it’s made me lose myself too.

I’ve felt really depressed since we lost her, and I’ve been trying to hide it as I don’t want anyone to know.

I’m hoping I can just get through it somehow and put this all behind me.

Part of the reason I reached out to you is actually because of that – I get to discuss stuff with you, a real person who can message back, without jeopardising that.

I hope you know how genius this is, btw – giving people the continuity of a counsellor, while remaining completely anonymous, is not something many people offer.

At least, not in an informal way that doesn’t eat into both our schedules like regimented appointment slots would.

Anyway, I think the reason I’m struggling so much is that everything good in my life was because of my gran and I don’t know if I can carry it all on without her.

And to be honest, I don’t know if I even want to.

She was only sixty-four and I thought I would have so much more time with her. I don’t know how to make this work.

Sincerely,

Not as Happy as Cam Be

I read the message again. As nice as the idea of my website is in theory, sometimes the messages break my heart.

And I don’t know what to say. Because what do you say to a person whose life as they knew it has ended?

When the situation still sucks, no matter which way you look at it.

And when there is no right thing to say.

But God loves a trier. And I can always try.

Hi Cam,

I’m really glad you messaged me. This is a safe space to talk about it as much or as little as you like.

And your gran sounds amazing. I’d love to hear more about her and some of the good stuff you mentioned.

I feel like you have some great stories to share.

And don’t worry about carrying it all on for now, whatever ‘it all’ is.

Keep taking it one day – or hour – at a time.

I know it feels like life won’t wait for us sometimes, but the truth is, it does.

It’s okay to take things slowly for a while if you need to.

I’m proud of you for reaching out to me and I’m so glad my little blog is a good fit for you.

Between you and me, I dreamed of moments like this when I started it, so thanks for making one of my dreams come true

Cordially,

Someone Who’s Looking Forward to Hearing More About your Gran x

I look at the clock. I don’t have time to sit and pray for everyone I replied to like I normally do, with closed eyes and undivided attention.

But I spend a moment thinking of them while I put my make-up on instead.

The funny thing is, I’m not even that religious.

I wasn’t raised in a family that went to church or read the Bible, but somewhere along the line, I found myself believing in the power of faith and, more importantly, the power of people.

Surely it’s got to do some good to have someone rooting for you and wishing you the best?

My mum walked in on me the night I received my first message and asked what I was doing as I sat in front of my laptop with my hands clasped and eyes closed.

Back then, I didn’t even know if I could call it praying since I seemed to believe in the power of my own compassion more than the higher being I was seeking guidance from.

But Mum reminded me that God is also in His people, and so even if or when my faith was rooted in myself, that could also be considered a prayer if I wanted it to be. And I did.

Even though Amy and I are both Biomed students, I tell her to go ahead without me since I’m running late after a long night of painsomnia (which is – yep, you guessed it – the delightful combo of pain and insomnia) and I have to meet up with Stephanie when I get there, anyway.

At this point, I’m well aware that you can’t truly prepare for anything when you’re chronically ill, but it never stops me from trying.

I even made overnight oats yesterday as I knew I might be too ill or exhausted to make breakfast this morning, but as I look at the clock, I realise I don’t even have time to eat that .

So, I stuff a cereal bar into my backpack, throw my unbrushed hair up in a ponytail and call it a day, setting the SmartDrive as high as it will go.

By cutting across the grass and going full-speed, I manage to shave off a bit more time and end up getting to the lecture theatre with two minutes to spare.

I check my hair in the glass door before I go in, taming down the flyaways, and as I do so, I realise I’m not actually at a lecture theatre at all.

Everyone is wearing their Biomedical science bags from registration, so I know I’m in the right place, but I also know that this is the campus cinema. I try not to look too surprised as I watch the students file into the theatre, while I keep looking around for Stephanie.

It takes a moment for the crowd of people to thin out enough for me to see her, standing with a clipboard by the pick ‘n’ mix stand. I try to catch her attention by waving to her, sitting up as tall as I can so that she has a better chance of seeing me.

Her vacant stare vanishes as her eyes catch mine and she waves back, rattling the heavy bracelets on her wrist. She joins the end of the line, which has now curled up into the adjoining Starbucks, and gestures for me to join her when she gets closer.

‘Good morning, Penny!’ she says brightly, as she comes back around, near the door. ‘Ready for today?’

‘So ready!’ I tell her. And I mean it, I’m so excited to get started.

I keep scanning the rest of the line for Amy’s multi-coloured skirt as we wait, and although there are a few that are quite similar to hers, I don’t manage to see Amy herself.

She probably went in a while ago. Then, when Stephanie and I finally make it past the final doorway together, it dawns on me why she wanted me to wait.

Everyone else is sitting in the velvet fold-down seats, with little swing-round lap trays in front of them, but there, right at the front, is a singular desk.

Which I already know, without a doubt, is for me.

Right at the end of the deserted front row.

My cheeks burn as we make our way towards it.

Mum and Parker assured me I wouldn’t be the only one in a wheelchair here (heck, from the way they were talking about it, you’d think universities were practically seething with wheelchair users).

And while I may not be the only wheelchair user at the university as a whole, I appear to be the only one in the School of Biological Sciences.

And I feel betrayed by what the staff at the open day said last year too, when I came to see the university for the very first time. I literally asked if I would be put in situations like this, and multiple people reassured me that I wouldn’t.

But here I am. At a rickety, foldaway desk for one. And now it’s too late. I’m never going to make any friends like this.

Stephanie notices my face as she pulls down the seat next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder, dragging me out of the rabbit hole I’m tumbling down.

‘This is just for the induction lecture today,’ she says in a soft voice.

‘In labs and seminars, you’ll be able to sit wherever you like with the other students, and the front row of the lecture theatres are accessible, so you can sit with your classmates there too,’ she says, nodding at me reassuringly. ‘It’s going to get better from here.’

And as I watch Samuel Bailey, the head of Biosciences, walk up to the podium at the front, I hope she’s right.

Amy’s generally pretty carefree, but my goodness the girl has got a thing for germs. I watched her pack her bag last night and didn’t think too much of it when she stuffed in three different types of wipes, but I’ve been sitting in Starbucks for a good five minutes since leaving the theatre and there’s still no sign of her.

Surely it doesn’t take this long to give your laptop a quick wipe-down?

I look at my own notes, trying to digest all the information we were given as I watch the crowd slowly dwindle. It’s not until the foyer is mostly empty again that I finally see her, swishing towards me in her rainbow skirt, and rubbing what I assume is hand gel into her hands.

‘What on earth was that about, putting you on your own like that!’ she squeals when she sees me. ‘I assumed that desk was set out for a member of staff before you came in.’

‘They said it was only for today,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘So, let’s agree not to talk about that ever again.’

‘Deal,’ she says, pressing the button for the door next to me.

I glance behind us as we make our way out in case CJ is one of the last people to leave too. I tried to look for the streak of white hair while I was waiting for Amy, but the crowd was too thick to see it. Or him.

Amy glances back too. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing,’ I say, debating whether to tell her. ‘I was just looking for ... someone.’

She raises her eyebrows and winks at me knowingly. ‘What sort of someone?’

I bite my lip, hoping to God he doesn’t come up behind us without me realising (honestly, that would be just my luck) and tentatively start telling her about how I met him at the doctors’ and then again at the support meeting.

I keep my voice low and glance around every couple of minutes, but I still don’t tell her about the weird parts yet, just in case.

The only thing worse than CJ being weird with me would be if he knew I found him weird.

When we get home, Amy invites herself into my room and after I climb into bed to help my achy joints, I tell her the parts I left out the first time. As I’m talking, she stands up from the window seat and pulls my wheelchair away from the bed so she can sit in it.

‘So, a group of boys walked into the doctors’ and then he just walked off?’ she echoes, pushing herself back and forth. I take off the wristband that controls the SmartDrive so I don’t accidentally send her crashing into the bed, and let her keep pushing herself instead.

‘Yeah,’ I say, thinking back to that moment. ‘He did try to say something, but it was so mumbled and rushed, I didn’t catch it.’

She rolls her eyes and climbs into bed next to me. ‘You know that has nothing to do with you though, don’t you?’ she says, and it surprises me to see her looking so serious. ‘That’s just some sort of issue he has with himself.’

I nod. I know she’s right, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less when you experience it. No matter how many times it happens.

‘And then,’ I say, feeling like I need to get the rest of it off my chest now I’ve started, ‘when they paired us up for the campus tour, I literally saw him sigh when he saw me.’ I cringe just thinking about it.

‘And he wouldn’t take me into any of the public places on campus when he was showing me around, either.

He happily took me into the empty labs, but then, when it came to the more public places, he just pointed them out as we walked past,’ I say, remembering how badly I had wanted to go and explore everywhere.

‘He even told me which café and bookshop are his favourites, but he still didn’t take me in. ’

‘And he said it was because he didn’t have time?’

‘Yeah, but why would you offer to show a student around if you don’t have time for it? I’m telling you, I saw everything I needed to see in that sigh when he first saw me.’

The corners of her mouth threaten to turn upwards as she stares ahead, looking at the photo of my dog, Dusty, that’s Blu-Tacked to the wall. His joyful, bright-eyed face stares back at us and he almost makes me smile too, even though it’s really not appropriate right now.

‘That is really weird,’ Amy says finally, dragging her eyes away from Dusty, and back to me.

‘Unless he has social anxiety? Do you think it could be that? I get pretty anxious sometimes and it manifests in all sorts of ways. Maybe that’s why he was at the student support centre.

’ A lightbulb comes on in her head. ‘And at the doctors’ where you met him, actually! It could explain both.’

I hadn’t considered that. ‘I guess that could be it,’ I say. I assumed he’d just volunteered to show a student around because he’d completed part of the year already, not because he needed support himself.

‘He was really chatty when we got talking, but I guess you can’t always tell if someone’s struggling with something,’ I say, trying to see her point of view.

But the more I think about it, the more I know that CJ was comfortable talking to me before those boys walked in on us.

I could just feel it. And it only changed when other people were around. Which somehow feels even worse.