Statistical Probability of Compatibility #2
“Not at all.” Some of the tension slipped from Ebony’s shoulders.
“People make it sound like it is sometimes,” she admitted. “Like there’s something wrong that needs fixing.”
Riley was quiet for a moment, considering the question properly instead of dismissing it. “Do you think there is?”
Ebony drew one knee closer to her chest. “Sometimes,” she said after a moment. “Not because I’m wrong, just because everything else is so loud.”
Something tightened unexpectedly in Riley’s chest. “Yes,” she said softly.
Ebony looked up. It was only one word, but it carried enough understanding that she didn’t feel the need to explain further.
“Are you like that too?”
Riley paused. She had spent most of her life knowing she experienced the world differently. Whether there was a formal name for it had never felt like the important part.
“I think so,” she said. “I’ve never been assessed, so I can’t say for certain. But I do know my brain works differently to most people around me.”
Ebony frowned slightly. “Why didn’t you get tested?”
“Nobody really thought to.” The answer felt strangely simple when she said it aloud. “My dad wasn’t very involved, and because I did well at school, people assumed I was fine.”
“But you weren’t?”
Riley let out a small breath through her nose. “I managed.” Ebony waited for her to continue. “They’re not always the same thing.”
Something in Ebony’s expression shifted at that. “So people noticed?”
“Some things, yes.” Riley glanced down briefly before continuing. “I was very good academically. That tended to become the focus. If I struggled socially, or got overwhelmed, it wasn’t considered particularly important because I was still achieving what everyone expected me to achieve.”
Ebony made a face. “That seems unfair.”
Riley felt the corner of her mouth lift slightly. “In hindsight, I agree.”
The answer seemed to satisfy Ebony for a moment. “Did it make things harder?”
Riley considered the question properly. “Sometimes.” She looked around the room before her gaze settled back on Ebony. “But it also forced me to learn a lot about myself. I had to figure out what helped, what didn’t, and how to build systems that made things easier.”
“By yourself?”
Riley nodded. “Mostly.”
Ebony stared at her. “That sounds exhausting.”
Riley laughed softly before she could stop herself. “It was.”
The honesty of the answer seemed to surprise both of them. “But I don’t think I’d change it,” she added after a moment. “A lot of the things I like about myself came from learning how my brain works.”
Ebony picked at the seam of her sleeve for a second. “You could still get diagnosed though.”
“Probably.”
“Why don’t you?”
Riley met her gaze. “Because I already know who I am.”
Ebony went still. Riley thought about it for a moment before continuing. “A diagnosis might explain me to other people. It just wouldn’t explain me to myself. I’ve already spent years learning that part.”
Ebony looked down at her hands. “I like having a reason,” she admitted quietly.
“Then that’s a good thing.” Riley’s answer came immediately. “If having that explanation helps you understand yourself better, then I’m glad you have it.”
Ebony looked back up at her. “You’re really okay with it?”
Riley didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Ebony let out a small breath, like she’d been holding it longer than she realised. “I want that,” she said “To be okay with being wrong.”
“Ebony,” Riley said gently, “there is nothing wrong with the way your brain works.”
The words settled between them. “The world wasn’t designed with people like us in mind very often,” she continued. “That can make things difficult. But difficult and wrong are not the same thing.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Ebony smiled. It started small, almost tentative, before settling into something more genuine.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
The shift in topic was abrupt enough that Riley almost appreciated it. “I am conducting an experiment,” she said. “And participating in it.”
Ebony straightened immediately. “What kind of experiment?”
“Physical performance,” Riley said.
Ebony frowned slightly. “What’s that mean?”
Riley adjusted the angle of her laptop before answering. “I’m examining what influences a person’s ability to exercise consistently and improve over time.”
“Like getting stronger?”
“Yes.”
Ebony nodded slowly. “And what exactly are you testing?”
Riley glanced briefly toward the gym around them. “Well, your uncle and I disagreed.”
That got Ebony’s attention immediately. “About what?”
Riley considered the question for a moment. “Would you like to see?”
Ebony nodded immediately. Riley reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop, settling it between them before opening the document she had been working on all week. “I document everything,” she said.
Ebony leaned closer. At first her attention moved across the colour-coded sections, the tables, the notes arranged into neat categories. Then she started reading properly. “These are all the people doing the sessions?”
“Yes.”
“And these are observations?”
“Correct.”
Ebony scrolled carefully, her eyes moving quickly across the screen. “You really did write down everything.”
“That is generally the objective.” A small smile tugged at Ebony’s mouth.
“This makes sense.” Riley felt something loosen unexpectedly in her chest. Most people looked at her work and saw complexity. Ebony seemed to see the structure first.
“Your uncle believes that exercise itself is the most important variable,” Riley explained, pointing briefly to a section of her notes. “I believe consistency, routine, and environmental predictability are more significant contributors to long-term progress.”
Ebony studied the screen. “So you’re trying to figure out who’s right.”
“Essentially.”
“And are you winning?”
Riley glanced at her. “The data remains inconclusive.”
“That means nobody.”
“At present, yes.” Ebony looked entirely delighted by that answer. Riley closed the laptop slightly and rested her hand on top of it.
“I am here most weekdays,” she said. “For approximately the next five months.”
Ebony looked up.
“If you would like to be present,” Riley continued, “your input would be valuable.”
“Like helping with the research?”
“If you’d like.”
Ebony’s expression brightened immediately. “I’ve never met someone like me before.”
Riley held her gaze. “Neither have I.”
For a moment neither of them looked away. Then Ebony smiled, wider this time. “I’d like that.”
Riley nodded once. “I think it would be invaluable to have another set of observations.”
The words were technically accurate, though they failed to capture the reason she meant them. Footsteps sounded in the hallway a moment later.
“Alright,” Tyler called as he reappeared in the doorway. “We’re gonna stay out of your way before Declan starts pretending this is a professional environment again.”
Declan rolled his eyes. “Out.”
Tyler grinned, entirely unbothered, then glanced down at Ebony. “Come on, kid. Let’s give them their very serious science time.”
Ebony hesitated, her attention returning briefly to Riley. “I’ll be upstairs.”
Riley nodded once. “I will be here.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Ebony followed Tyler back toward the stairs, Declan trailing behind them after a brief shake of his head. Their voices faded gradually through the house, dissolving into the quieter sounds of movement overhead.
Riley remained where she was. For a moment her attention lingered on the staircase long after Ebony had disappeared from view.
She had spent most of her life feeling like an outlier within every environment she entered. Meeting Ebony hadn’t changed that, but it had shifted something.
The feeling was unfamiliar enough that she was still examining it when footsteps returned on the stairs. Riley looked up. Declan was halfway back into the room. He slowed slightly when he saw her expression.
“Well,” he said, unable to stop the small smile that appeared on his own face. “That seems like it went alright.”
“It was constructive,” she said.
Declan’s eyebrows lifted. “Constructive?”
Riley’s gaze drifted briefly toward the staircase before returning to him. “Yes.”
Something about the simplicity of the answer made him smile a little wider. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I thought it might be.”
Riley’s gaze drifted briefly toward the staircase, lingering there for a moment.
“It’s not common,” she said eventually, her voice quieter than it had been earlier, “to meet someone who experiences the world the way I do.”
“No,” Declan agreed. “I imagine it wouldn’t be.”
The corner of her mouth twitched faintly. “Statistically, it is unlikely.”
A quiet laugh escaped him, and the silence that followed settled easily between them. Riley found herself letting it remain there rather than immediately filling it.
“You care about her a lot.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but something softened in Declan’s expression all the same.
“Yeah,” he said simply. “I do.”
Riley studied him for a moment before continuing. “You aren’t her parent.”
“No.”
“But you’ve built this entire environment around her.”
Declan glanced around the gym, following the direction of her observation before leaning back lightly against the bench.
“Not just me,” he said. “Tyler’s her dad, but AFL isn’t exactly built around school pickups and consistent routines. So, the rest of us help. My parents, me, who’s ever needed.”
There was no pride in the explanation, no expectation that she should be impressed by it.
He sounded as though he were describing something obvious.
“She’s got routines that work for her,” he continued.
“Systems, things that make life easier. So, we work around those where we can. Makes more sense than forcing her to work around us.”