‘Dad, what is a spoke?’
I turned my head around to see my son standing behind me, his arms held politely by his side and his auburn hair moving gently in the wind.
‘Well, these are spokes,’ I said, pointing with a soapy sponge to the wheel I’d been cleaning. ‘A spoke is a—’
‘Spoke, noun. Each of the bars or wire rods connecting the centre of a wheel to its outer edge, or each of a set of radial handles projecting from a ship's wheel, or each of the metal rods in an umbrella to which—’
‘Jeremy, please!’ My cry came out more frustrated than I actually was. Guilt immediately kicked me in the stomach. The kids across the street stopped bouncing their basketball and looked over. I put the sponge back into a dirty bucket, placed two wet hands on my thighs and willed my sore legs to stand. I scanned his face for any signs of hurt, but there were none, like always.
‘I’m sorry, I yelled at you just then,’ I said. ‘I let my frustration get the better of me, and I apologise.’ I had to explain to him, otherwise how else would he learn? Jeremy nodded in response. His head moved vertically, down four degrees and then up four degrees to return the head to its initial position.
I wiped my hands on my weathered jeans, ones I’d had for ages. I bought them in Byron Bay in either 2028 or 2029, I couldn’t remember. I reached for Jeremy’s hands and held them in my own. With my thumbs, I caressed the back of his 3D printed silicon hands.
‘When we ask someone a question, we wait until they finish speaking. If you know the answer, do not interrupt them, but wait until they have finished speaking. Do you understand?’ Four degrees down, four degrees up, exactly as before.
Suddenly Jeremy turned his head to face the kids across the road. They were whispering and looking. I hadn’t heard them, but Jeremy definitely had. He turned back to me and looked up at me with eyes I could have sworn were human.
‘Dad, why won’t the other kids play with me?’
I felt tears well up in my eyes. Every time I thought of a way to phrase it, I canned it and thought again. I probably spent ten minutes standing there, holding his hands in mine; all the while, Jeremy did not interrupt me once. He just waited.
