13th September 2003
Alex stood and collected his thoughts. Everything would change now. Alex hated uncertainty and chaos with a passion. Alex loved routine and stability. His life for the past twenty months had been ordered and regular. Doctors appointments, both medical and psychiatric, physiotherapy appointments, appointments for prosthetics, swimming practice and school. Even meal planning was by monthly fixed plan. Tom occasionally burst in and mucked Alex about. He could tolerate disruption for Tom. Tom had helped pick up the pieces after everything had gone to shit in 2001.
Two flights of steps up to the roof terrace, Alex had to concentrate. Dark metal stairs were a problem still. Judging each footstep and maneuvering his body upwards. Hauling more like. He still wished to be able to run with abandon. He still kind of shuffled walking. His gait never completely smooth nor natural looking. He walked like the cripple he was. Then he checked his thoughts 'think positive, remember what you can do'. He was still sports mad, it was just different. He cycled, weight trained and swam, he swam well, brilliantly in fact. Alex schooled his expression, showing no outward signs of nerves or apprehension. He took in the sounds of the party. There were a lot of Tony's work colleagues, acquaintances and friends here. Eating, talking and drinking. A small jazz band playing subdued music. Tony's thing. Being rich, inherited wealth, meant Tony liked to entertain very tastefully. Alex's adoptive father, Tony had gone to Eton, grown up in a large house in Hampstead. Knew all the right people. Tony and his partner had been Alex's saving grace. Alex still did not know why he and Jon had put up with him, he'd been distant, moody and down right stroppy at times.
Alex made eye contact from the top of the stairs with his papa, as Tony liked to be called. He was more a mommy in personality except for the rugged too handsome face. Alex raised his hand in greeting and watched Tony sign "I thought you were staying over a Becka's?"
Alex signed back "Martin pulled out of the swim meet". Tonight, had been the southern counties championships. Martin was the West London's Swim Club's star swimmer. He had called in just before the minibus was due to leave to say he was ill. Alex was team 3rd reserve. He didn't like able bodied meets much. He got stared at. Had to endure comments. He preferred just to train. He trained with the prig Martin. Martin, who could go to the Nationals if he turned up. "I texted you." Alex then signed "Coach is here. He wants to talk."
Alex went down stairs in the same slow manner. Each footfall careful. He purposefully did not grip the rail and tried to be soft and effortless. Fat chance. Alex did not stay to observe Tony make pleasant excuses. The actor's friends knew about his adopted son, disabled, depressed and with the occasionally violent outburst. Family for the last two years had come first for Tony. Before Alex's arrival, Tony had been ambitious and driven. He chased parts and work, always on the phone to his agents, his publicist and friends. Life had settled into occasional TV and film parts and now a coveted membership of the National Theatre Company. In fact, Tony worked more now he was a parent than he had before.
Alex smiled briefly at his coach as he came into the house. Bill was perched on the edge of the kitchen table drinking a cup of black coffee. Alex walked past and went straight to the bread bin, pulling out three rolls and then he raided the fridge. Meat free sandwich slices, tomatoes, mayonnaise and the carton of soya milk were pulled out. Tony came in and the first word out of his mouth were Use a glass. Alex smiled and as he obediently retrieved a glass from the cupboard.
"Hello Bill. Whats the problem?" Asked the perplexed actor.
Alex was busy drinking milk and nearly snorted in laughter. Yes the last time Alex had come home with the coach he had been sporting a black eye, when another kid had socked him one after he got out of the pool. Boy that kid had been a sore loser. Alex had fallen over hence he had not returned the punch. For once, Alex had not been in serious trouble. Derek's mum was the club secretary. She had been shocked and appalled that her son had hit a poor defenseless disabled boy during a club training session. Derek was a bully pure and simple and loosing a training race to a cripple had been too much for his delicate pride.
"No problem. Do you want to tell your dad?"
"OK" said Alex. "I broke the British Record for the 100m Freestyle tonight. The S8 British Record."
"What does that mean?"
"Alex will be offered a place on the national squad for the Paralympics. If he does the same in the National Championships in April he will be going to Athens. It means a new diet, more training here and in Loughborough. At least two separate training weeks and bi-monthly training weekends before April and then a three week training camp in Spain next summer. He needs to train in a 50m pool. I'll talk to you on Monday. The Record will be logged by then. Alex swam brilliantly." Bill smiled at Alex "Like Ian Thorpe".
Alex returned the smile. His hero was the Thorpedo.
Alex showed his coach out.
"You're going to the Paralympics. British No. 1."
"Yep."
"What got you so riled up that you tried so hard?"
"Cunt face Poulsen laughed and called me a cripple during warm up. I showed that smug faced bastard. He had no idea why I was so pleased coming fifth until Bill told everyone I broke the national record for my disability. I knocked nearly two seconds of my PB tonight. Poulsen did not come close to Olympic qualifying time."
"Come upstairs. You can have a beer or maybe a glass of Champagne. Have you called Jon?"
"No I'll call in the morning. Time difference. I don't want to wake him up in the middle of the night."
Alex walked up the stairs beside Tony. He looked at the floor as Tony made his announcement. Alex was now on the British Paralympic Swim Team. Fastest S8 ever in Great Britain. Alex had just started A Levels in Maths, Computer Science, Spanish and Russian at Lambeth Sixth Form College. He wanted to go to University, something he had discussed at length with Jon. He would have to do serious juggling of studies and training. It was only a year to the games.
Alex sat and texted in the morning, it was after midday somewhere in Pakistan or Afghanistan where Jon was working. Having a parent still working for the bank sucked. It was the only way Alex could have got back into a semi-normal life. Alex tried not to think about the spring, summer and autumn two years ago. Everything had gone spectacularly wrong on the 24th July 2001. Then Alex wasn't aware of anything after that until start of August. The kind russian, bathing him, feeding him, telling him it would be OK. Alex was stirred from his thoughts by his phone. The James Bond theme, it was Jon. "Dad, you got my text?
"Whats this broke the British S8 swimming record, on the paralympic swim team, training in Loughborough soon?"
"All of the above. I'm in line to go to Athens next september. Papa and I have a meeting with the coach tomorrow."
"God I wish I could be there, Al. I'm so proud. I thought you had no swim meets until November?"
"I was reserve for the Southern Championships, two guys did not show. I got to swim in the 100 free. Came fifth, 1.01.9. Not bad for a kid with no feet." Alex did not add he had also swum three relays last night.
"Not bad at all. Look after Tony for me?"
"Always, bye."
Alex swung out of bed. Socks on, legs on. Food.
Jon Smith was sat in a cave with two laptops, a satellite phone and a miraculously quiet generator. He was waiting with two teams of SAS. A short dark man grunted. "So whats Cub done now." Jon had kept them entertained with stories of Cub's antics at school and swim club. Alex was forever in trouble for mouthing off, fighting and breaking rules. Alex stood his ground and fought to be treated as a normal kid, even if he treated most normal kids as the enemy.
"Cub has a place on the National Swim Team. I bet he'll train like a devil to get to the Paralympics in Athens next September."
Tony was sat in the kitchen, hidden behind the Sunday Times. He was dressed immaculately, eating muesli and drinking thick black Italian coffee. "Morning trouble. There's coffee in the pot."
"Umm no caffeine allowed. I'll have juice"
Alex began to assemble his morning snack, a pile of toast with peanut butter and a pint of orange juice" Alex was tall. 6'2" with his prosthetic legs attached, 4 inches taller than Tony. Alex was dressed in his usual large T shirt and long football shorts hanging off his slim hips.
"So just us or did any of your freaky friends stay."
Tony looked at Alex at this point. "Lana and Mike are in the guest room. They'll probably surface near midday."
"Do you want me to cook lunch?" asked Alex as he sat down opposite his papa.
"No Alex, we'll go to the Duke for lunch." The Duke of Cambridge was two streets over and their local, it had a lovely beer garden.
"Shit I can't drink coca cola." swore Alex.
"Have you got a full diet sheet?"
"No. Bill said if it tastes good I can't eat or drink it. The list of prohibited medicines is immense. Good job I'm not on happy pills anymore." Alex ate in silence than added "Are you on stage tonight?"
"Yes. I'll be out from 5 till midnight. You can do your homework."
"Goody Russian. I like my reading list. Its not depressing at all."
"Have you done your maths?"
"At lunch on Friday."
"And computing?"
"Ahh... I'm on restriction in the computer lab again."
"Who's account did you hack this time?"
"I did nothing illegal. I just redesigned part of the college's website."
"Alex!"
"It runs much better now. Their firewall was totally inadequate. Jon checked my programming. He said I'd get into Cambridge tomorrow. I'm down to do my exams for computing in January. Mr Clark can't teach me anything. Jon could run rings around him."
"Well, Jon has a Phd in Computing and Electronic Engineering and is an encryption specialist."
"Yeah I know 'those who can do. Those who can't teach'." quipped Alex cheekily
"Are you going to exercise this morning?" queried Tony
"Pilates, weights and cycling." Alex then began to eat.
"I'll join you for pilates."
"And the rest."