Two strangers. One room. And it doesn't end there.
Rhys Hayes has been diagnosed with dyscalculia. He finds it easier to avoid talking than have to reveal his secret: why he can't tell the time, or why he doesn't remember directions, or why he just...
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✿ Verena ✿
I fumble for my phone and type, dyscalculia.
Dyscalculia is a term used to describe specific learning disabilities that affect a child's ability to understand, learn, and perform math and number-based operations. People with dyscalculia have trouble with math at many levels. They often struggle with key concepts like bigger vs. smaller. And they can have a hard time doing basic math problems and more abstract math.
I read it again and again and search a little deeper, going through people's experiences and how they deal with it.
I recall the time when Rhys had asked me to help him with calculating our grocery shopping budget. I think of him asking me to translate the time. I remember his doing push ups and going way above a hundred.
I made fun of him that day, something along the lines of how he cannot count.
I think of all the notes he'd written and then recall what he'd told me about his Dad being a businessman and wanting Rhys to do something similar.
He couldn't.
I feel my eyes tear up. I hate how I thought he'd written that stuff down because he was stupid. I didn't know dyscalculia existed and now that I know, I can't stop thinking of him.
Not in a sympathetic way, I don't know what it is. I pace around the room, waiting to apologize as soon as he'd walk in but he never does.
Is he gone?
He can't be gone, can he?
I realise how much I want him to be here, with me. I think I'm getting used to him being around. It's just been a couple of days but it still feels like forever, and I don't want it to stop.
There's just so much that can be wrong with someone's body, eyes, mouth, face, brain, hands, legs or just their life that I forget to be happy for what I have.
Everyone has their own bad things and we need to learn to accept ours and focus on the good ones instead.
Is that why you stopped talking to me? Rhys's voice echoes in my head.
If only he could understand without me having to tell him. What am I supposed to say?
Rhys, I can't talk to you anymore because you make my heart flutter?
Whenever I look at him, I think of him, and just him. I loose my trail of thoughts. He's trying to consume me, inch by inch and it's working and I hate it.
I just want to touch him. And that's not a friendly thought at all!
I feel scared as I walk towards the window and look out, my eyes absently searching for a familiar head of caramel curls.
