Instalment One Hundred and Twenty

My first memory of school is an unpleasant one. “Good m-m-morning my name is T-t-t-tom, a-Tom, ahhhh Tom.”

“Tom’s malfunctioning again Miss!” Tessa Harris squealed in delight. Ten year olds can be so cruel. Mother put me in a speech program to fix the stutter, it comes and goes. I don’t remember much before that actually.

“One doesn’t tell a child such things,” Mother replied when I asked about my lack of memory, “but there was an accident, you were riding your bike and you crashed.”

“I crashed?”

“You just went blank, we thought there was a bug going round but you were always crashing Tom. So we had you looked at when you were ten, popped the bonnet, there is a scar just above your ear. Did you never wonder?”

My fingers ran through my hair, feeling bumps.

“A t-t-tumor? I stuttered.

“Nothing like that dear, loose wire was all. I see your stutter is back,” she tutted. “We just want you to be the best version of yourself that you could be, more than the sum of your parts.”

She headed for the door, “I’m late for my flight, I’ll update you when I get back next week.”