nathan dawson's pov:
I was sitting in our kitchen and playing with the hem of the table cloth. Jeffrey was facing away from me while chopping garlic for the sauce. The pasta was already cooking and I felt so nauseated I was certain I would never eat again.
Mom was watching television in the living room with Jonathan and I could hear a steady murmur of their voices, rising and falling like waves. My heart was throbbing and I wasn't sure why I felt like I was going to confess a crime. Even if I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, it surely felt like it.
"J-Jeffrey.. I-I.."
"What is it?" Jeffrey set down the knife, realizing I had something important to tell him. When I still didn't say a word, he washed his hands and took a seat next to mine. Then he leaned closer and gave me a reassuring smile "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"
"I think I-I.. I might.. I.." I stopped and took a deep breath to calm myself. "I think I have dyslexia."
"Dyslexia?" Jeffrey blinked. He placed a hand on top of mine and studied my face intensively. I had never seen him looking so serious, so sad. "Are you sure?"
"W-well, no, but y-yes. I think so." I hung my head. "Jeffrey, I'm sorry."
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me dad?" When I glanced up, Jeffrey's eyes were pensive, but he was smiling. "And this isn't something you need to apologize for. If you have it, it's not your fault and it isn't the end of the world."
When I looked at him, wearing a green apron and his bald head shining under the ceiling light, I realized he was more like a father to me than my dad has ever been. I'm not saying that my dad wasn't a good dad, I just can't remember much of him. I was six years old when mom divorced him, and now me and Nicholas see him like once every two years. Jeffrey, on the other hand, didn't treat me or Nicholas any less like his biological children than he treated Jonathan.
"I-I didn't want you to think I'm s-stupid, and I've been trying really hard, but.." I felt like I needed to explain myself.
"We would never think you're stupid." Jeffrey pointed out, shaking his head slightly to emphasize how ridiculous the idea was. "If you have a disability, it just means that you have a disability. Jonathan has learning disabilities too, and I bet you don't think he is stupid."
"Of course not." It was my turn to shake my head like Jeffrey was being ridiculous.
"Exactly. So why would it be any different with you?" He asked. Then he hugged me and added: "I'm glad you told me, but I think your mom needs to know about this as well."
When I nodded, Jeffrey leaned back on his chair and hollaed to the living room: "Camille, honey, could you come here for a second?"
"Need a hand with dinner?" Mom asked, her voice jocular. She really wasn't much of a cook, so it was something they liked to make jokes about. But as soon as she peeked into the kitchen, her expression turned serious: "What's wrong?"
I wanted to tell her nothing was wrong, but instead I bursted into tears. The sobbing only got worse, when mom rushed to me and embraced me tightly. I wasn't being too discreet about it, and soon Nicholas and Jonathan appeared on the kitchen door.
When I met Nicholas' gaze briefly, his expression was filled with worry. I buried my face on mom's shoulder, still sobbing like a little child. I wasn't sure if the tears were from relief or sorrow, but I. Just. Couldn't. Stop. Crying.
"What's wrong?" Jonathan cried out. He was about to rush to us, but Nicholas placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered: "Let's go upstairs. I'll show you that game we were talking about."
Then it was just mom, Jeffrey and I in the kitchen, and Jeffrey was explaining to mom what I had just told him. I sat there looking down and sniffling like I was waiting for a lecture. Mom leaned closer to give me another teary hug.
She didn't scold me for hiding the dyslexia thing, instead she whispered: "How could we miss it? I'm so sorry."
When I first went to speech-language therapy, I couldn't have been older than four. All I can remember from those appointments was that the pathologist was a nice older woman, whose name was Camille just like mom's, and that they made me do a bunch of tests.
I used to stutter quite a lot back then, but all they found out was that I didn't have a hearing loss that could have affected my speech. Then it got better and the issue was kind of swept under the rug. Apparently it was common for kids between the ages two and five to go through periods of stuttering.
Then, after I turned five, I was back at Camille's office. I was an anxious child. I was prone to absorb the emotions of others, and back then that meant loads and loads of stress and malaise from my parents. So, amongst other things they ended up thinking I had SPD, sensory processing disorder. In other words, they thought I was so stressed out and anxious that it made me stutter.
Once my parents had their divorce and all the drama started to die down, I got better again. I still stuttered and I was cautious around people, but speech-language therapy was working for me. I was determined to get rid of the stuttering, so I did all the exercises I was given and more.
I'm not sure if I deliberately tried to hide my reading difficulties back then, but somehow I always did. I studied a lot, still just barely keeping up with my classmates. And every time something stressful happened in my life, my grades plummeted. I simply lost my motivation and put little effort into school.
Then there was the social anxiety thing, which made my stuttering worse. It was a classic chicken or the egg situation: did I stutter because I was anxious or was I anxious because I stuttered? And was my stuttering all because of dyslexia or was it because I was so sensitive to the atmosphere at home?
"I know I'm not smart like Nicholas." I muttered, still looking down at my hands. "But I'm trying my best."
"Nathaniel Dawson." Mom ordered, using her thumb to lift my chin up. I blinked, staring into her eyes. "You are smart, and we would love you just as much even if you weren't."
"Then why do you always compare me to Nicholas?" I furrowed my brows and sighed. "You always say that if Nicholas can do it, so can I, but clearly I can't. So, no, I'm not smart like he is."
"I never meant for it to come out that way, I'm sorry." Mom leaned closer and kissed my forehead. "I just thought that maybe you were spending all that time playing games.."
"But know we know better." Jeffrey stepped in, placing a strong hand on my shoulder. "And this time we're making sure everything goes by the books."
After that we talked and cried a little more, before Jeffrey went back to cooking and mom started calling around. She made herself a huge cup of coffee and sat down by the kitchen table. Her determination amazed me, and I could tell from her expression she wasn't going to give up before she had her answers.
I dried my cheeks and smiled at her, before walking upstairs and finding Nicholas playing some racing game with Jonathan in our room. Jonathan didn't turn to look at me, as he was immersed in the game, but Nicholas looked at me and nodded his head slightly.
"Want to play with us?" He asked, making Jonathan notice my presence. He swirled the office chair around and stared at me, his eyes wide and worried.
"What happened?" The game was still playing in the background, but Jonathan had already forgotten all about it.
"I'll play." I ruffled Jonathan's hair and nodded back at Nicholas, to tell him there was nothing to worry about and that we would talk later. To Jonathan I said: "I'm okay. Mom and dad are going to fill you in at dinner, I think."
I couldn't actually concentrate on the game, so I ended up watching Nicholas and Jonathan playing. Jonathan was over the moon to get to play with Nicholas, and couldn't help hoping Nicholas would spend more time with him.
Jonathan didn't have many friends and he mostly spent his days with me, Jeffrey and mom. We were close, but Nicholas was "the cool brother" Jonathan was dying to hang out with. I just had a feeling that Nicholas didn't think the same, not about me nor Jonathan.
It was part of growing up, I guess. There was no point in arguing that the age difference between us didn't matter: Jonathan was nearly half younger than we were and we lived in different worlds. Soon Nicholas and I would graduate and we would go to universities or colleges, and we would move away.
With the cancer and all, I had never really dared to imagine what Jonathan's life would be like in five or ten years. Hell, I barely allowed myself to think where I would be after the last year of high school.
I think it's safe to say that the future scared me with all its unknowns, and the thought of starting something new — and leaving something familiar behind — mostly just filled me with dread. I was well past hoping for thrilling events and things that would turn my boring life upside down. Although, with Solar in the picture, I was starting to think not all the change was a bad thing.
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I won't admit anything, but it's possible I've been avoiding that editing task by writing more chapters to perf*ct.. :D
What do you think of this story so far? Who is your favorite character?