Style entirely inspired by Beckett's Vladimir and Estragon

Our child is unique

‘We should speak to him.’

‘Of course.’

Neither moves.

‘But carefully.’

‘Naturally. He is unique.’

‘Very unique.’

‘Too unique for ordinary speaking.’

‘What is ordinary speaking?’

‘Questions. Answers. Disagreement. Tone. Eye contact.’

‘Dangerous things.’

‘For a unique child.’

A chair falls inside the bedroom.

‘Did you hear that?’

‘He’s regulating.’

‘He dropped a chair.’

‘Unique children drop things differently.’

Silence.

‘Should we ask him?’

‘Ask him what?’

‘Why he threw the chair.’

‘What if he didn’t throw it?’

‘Then we mustn’t invalidate his process.’

‘And if he did throw it?’

‘We validate him carefully.’

A long pause. ‘When I was fifteen I stayed in my room for nearly a year.’

‘You were depressed?’

‘I was fifteen.’

Silence.

‘Sometimes I think he just wants friends.’

‘He has friends.’

‘Online.’

‘That counts now.’

‘Does it?’

‘Maybe he wants to feel normal.’

‘He is normal.’

‘Then why do we say he is unique?’

Silence.

‘Maybe school is the problem.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe structure is the problem.’

‘Possibly.’

‘Maybe trousers are the problem.’

‘That’s insensitive.’

‘I wore the same green jumper every day when I was fourteen.’

‘Were you unique?’

‘No.’

They look at the door.

‘So what makes him unique?’

‘We’ve had assessments.’

‘We had acne.’

‘That’s not the same.’

‘No. People recovered from acne.’

A floorboard creaks inside the room.

‘If everyone keeps telling you you’re different, eventually you stop trying to join in.’

Silence.

‘He heard us.’

‘He’s extremely perceptive.’

‘It’s a door.’

Another silence. A knock at the bedroom door.

‘Can we come in?’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whether you want a son or a project.’