A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (feel good books .txt) 📕

‘I think you’re both wasting your skills,’ Bob said. ‘You should be working as negotiators.’

Jade looked straight at Helen. ‘And you don’t get to boss me around.’

Helen momentarily considered Bob’s offer, then remembered the effect of his twinkling eyes. Sparring with Jade would be a lot safer.

CHAPTER

24

So much had happened, Tara could barely wrap her head around all of it. Jon had been pricked, prodded and scanned and his neurologist, Dr Jaya, had ruled out a series of other conditions. His diagnosis matched Stephen’s—young Parkinson’s.

Although she’d hardly thought about running or about Zac, he’d been the first person Tara called when Jon got the official diagnosis. She’d justified it as necessary. After what had happened between them, she needed to explain why she was cancelling her appointments. She didn’t want Zac to think she was ghosting him, not when he’d been so kind. And honest. But mostly she’d called him because he was the only person she knew who didn’t know Jon. He was the only person she could tell. And she’d needed to tell someone.

‘My husband’s got Parkinson’s disease.’

‘Shit. Sorry.’ Silence buzzed down the line then Zac cleared his throat. ‘I thought Parkinson’s was just for old dudes.’

A wave of grief hit her and she’d leaned against the wall. ‘Apparently, there’s more chance of winning the lottery than getting young Parkinson’s.’

‘That sucks. For both of you.’

‘Pretty much.’ She was struck by how talking to Zac was always a combination of wise adult and man-child.

‘Is that why he wasn’t interested in sex?’

‘It’s all connected.’

‘At least you know for certain he hasn’t been screwing around on you. That’s gotta help.’

She’d laughed, then immediately choked on tears.

‘You gonna be okay?’ he’d asked.

She had no idea. In many ways her and Jon’s relationship was on the same road it had been for months, only they’d changed lanes. The destination, however, remained undisclosed. But despite what Jon had offered her and her split-second wobble, she was staying for the journey.

Tara and Jon had told Ian the diagnosis—they needed his help with the school run and the children’s after-school activities when medical appointments kept them in Shepparton. They were yet to tell their friends or employees. Jon didn’t want to be rushed into anything and Tara agreed. They both needed time to wrap their heads around not only the disease but the ramifications. How could they answer other people’s questions when they didn’t fully understand things themselves?

It hadn’t been difficult to hide Jon’s medical appointments. As Tara hadn’t told Kelly or Rhianna why she’d needed childminding the day Jon fell, there’d been no reason for the women to follow up. And the Hoopers’ staff were used to Jon being in and out of the store and contacting him by phone. If anything had raised their suspicions, it was Tara answering his phone and troubleshooting when Jon was having his MRI and meeting with the movement specialist.

Naively, both of them had assumed Jon could take a bunch of pills each day and everything would return to normal. It was their first misconception on a very long list.

‘It’s a bit of trial and error to get the dosage right,’ Dr Jaya told them. ‘Fine line between easing the motor symptoms and making them worse.’

There were other side effects and Jon got the nausea and vomiting almost straight away. Yet another drug got added to the mix. It was hard to tell if his drowsiness was caused by the disease or the drugs. More worrying were the possible big side effects like hallucinations and impulsive and compulsive behaviours.

When Tara asked Dr Jaya and the pharmacist what to look for, they’d explained those side effects usually occurred in activities that gave an immediate reward or pleasure, such as eating, shopping and gambling—and sex. The irony of Jon possibly experiencing increased sexual thoughts and behaviours backhanded Tara with the sting of a slap. Be careful what you wish for. Right now, their sex life was so far down the list of concerns, it barely registered.

She hated how she’d misinterpreted the signs of Parkinson’s disease, allowing them to fuel her anxieties and frustrations about their marriage. To cloud her judgement to the point she barely recognised herself. Whenever she thought about her own obsessive and compulsive behaviours with Zac, she broke out in a rash. But there was no hiding from her stupidity. Her strained paraspinal muscle still caught her if she moved too quickly.

Now she had a new obsession—reading everything she could about young Parkinson’s. Unlike the difficult months preceding the diagnosis, when she’d been flailing in the dark about why their marriage was floundering, Parkinson’s was a known threat. The information she found informed and terrified her in equal measure, and she became constantly vigilant, searching for signs of Jon being obsessive or compulsive about anything.

‘You’re doing it again,’ he’d say.

‘What?’

‘Staring at me as if you think it’ll fix everything. It’s bloody annoying.’

‘Sorry.’

If medical appointments, medication and Jon’s general fatigue weren’t enough to deal with, their social worker had ‘strongly recommended’ they attend a Parkinson’s support group.

‘Most meetings are informal,’ Donna had said, ‘but a few times a year they have a guest speaker. You’ll find it useful. There’s a lot of value in a shared experience. Remember, you’re not alone in this.’

But Tara felt excruciatingly alone and she was certain Jon did too. He’d retreated into himself, avoiding the cricket club and their friends. She didn’t know if he was depressed or just finding his way through the complicated maze Parkinson’s had dropped them in. Either way, she wanted to do everything she could to help him. Help them both. If that meant walking into a hall full of strangers, then so be it, which was how they came to be standing outside a community hall in Mooroopna. The noise of animated conversation drifted towards them.

‘Ready?’ she asked.

Jon didn’t say anything so she took his hand and walked inside. Her feet stalled at the entrance to the room. Was there anyone here under