Page 14 of The Chemistry Test

Cam

I only came out to get bread, but as I passed The Coffee Bean on my way back to my car, she caught my eye again.

Penny.

She’s surrounded by people and clearly struggling, but not a single person steps in to help.

I remember reading a post about it not being appropriate to push people’s wheelchairs without asking, but before I know it, my hands are on her push handles anyway.

I head for the furthest table, so we’re a little less in among everyone else.

Steering her as far away from the pitying glances as I can.

She doesn’t speak until we get there. I think she’s trying not to cry.

‘I’m sorry I pushed you without asking,’ I say, coming round to face her. I reach down to take the tray from her lap. It’s covered in milky coffee, so I have to use both hands to save her (somehow still pristine) white dress.

She blinks back her tears and manages a small laugh at that. ‘How can you be so polite while I’m literally sitting here crying over spilt milk?’

I shrug. ‘Here,’ I say, handing her a napkin from the sugar area next to us. I pull out a few more to mop up the tray.

‘Thanks,’ she says, blotting slightly red-rimmed eyes. She still looks angelic and composed even when she’s crying, though. No rapid breaths or quivering lips. And I think, most notably, no fuss.

If that were me, I’d be melting down at the fact I was melting down, but Penny takes it all in her stride. Any onlookers quickly move on when they realise there’s no scene to look at.

‘You don’t have to stay if you need to go,’ she says. ‘I know you’re busy.’

I look at the sad, half-full glass in front of her. I fed Tabby and Callie just before I left, so I have time.

‘I have a better idea,’ I say, and with her permission, we leave the sodden napkins on the tray and I lead her out towards my car.

I put her wheelchair in the boot and offer her my hand to help her into the passenger seat when I see her clinging to the door, but she doesn’t take it.

Instead, she guides herself in using the handle and dashboard.

‘What do you want to listen to?’ I ask, reaching for the aux cord after buckling myself in.

‘I don’t mind,’ she says, suddenly shy. I hope she doesn’t feel scared being in the car with me. We’re not exactly strangers at this point, but my mum always tells me it’s different for girls. I know just the thing to take her mind off it though.

‘I’ll put your favourite song on, then,’ I say, finding it on Spotify.