by Leanne Davis
“Then you rescued me.”
He drops his head and an almost shy smile appears. It makes my heart ping to see it. “Then I rescued you.”
“It’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of. I liked it when you told me.”
“I thought you already knew.”
“No. I didn’t. So you did something right.”
His grin is shy and he turns away. “I know how to date. I just hadn’t tried sex.”
“You have now. But you don’t have to be with me, if you think it was a mistake.”
He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through my hair before placing it on my shoulder. “It was. A huge mistake. It should not have happened like that.”
“Oh. You mean because you think we shouldn’t have done it under those circumstances?” He nods. It shocks me to realize what his reasons are. He doesn’t regret having sex, but rather, taking advantage of me? Up there on the tower? I almost let out a laugh until I realize how guilty he feels. It melts my heart. I grip his face, holding his head with both hands right below his ears and making him stare right into my eyes. “I wanted it. I went after you. You didn’t do it. I did. I only regretted it afterwards because I really like you, Seth, and I didn’t want you to hate me or totally lose any respect you had for me. But you didn’t do anything wrong.”
His eyebrows lower. “That is not the way I treat a girlfriend.”
My breath catches. Suddenly, all I want is for him to be talking about me. That is a groundbreaking change for me.
“It’s how I treat my boyfriends. So there is that.”
“Are you planning on treating me like that?”
I shake my head. “I already haven’t.”
Quiet falls. Finally, I ask, “Do you want to get dinner?”
“Yes.”
He’s so simple and straightforward with how he talks to me. I’m starting to like that too. I get up and start scrounging around in his kitchen. He walks towards the small console where his keys are sitting. I turn to find him putting his coat on. “Where are you going?”
“On a date. With you. I didn’t mean for you to scrounge up dinner from my cabinets. When I said yes, I meant I want to get dinner. I meant I want to take you out to dinner.”
I slowly set down the box of mac ‘n’ cheese I found. My heart balloons with joy. I’m not a swooning kind of girl and always derided that kind of stuff before now. Maybe, in all my scorn I learned not to want it and now? After straying so far, and trying to be different from Christina and the rest of my family, I forgot that a relationship, a real one, is a desirable thing.
“Um, I need to put my bra back on.” It just pops out. I blink in surprise at my stupid statement. Damn it. That’s exactly what I was trying to warn him about. Stuff pops out of my mouth before I can filter it. Or realize I’m even going to say it.
His smile is quick and he snorts. I cringe and keep my eyes down. “See? I told you I’d annoy you. I say such stupid things. They just… come out.”
I stifle the urge to groan at myself. With other guys, like Anand, I didn’t care in the least what they thought of me, so I just ran my mouth off and said stupid off–the–cuff statements without caring if they listened or laughed or called me stupid. But with Seth, I’ve always been well aware how inferior I am to him and how he would cringe in pain over my idiotic comments. “Other girls will sleep with you. You don’t have to do this.”
He walks over to the couch and dips down, popping up with my bra, which he holds out to me. “Well, you do need it.”
I glance up to see his eyes sparkling with humor. At me. But it isn’t malicious. I amuse him. I finally smile back. I guess it isn’t bad that I make him laugh with me. For some reason, I don’t think he’ll be mean about it anymore.
“Imagine if I said something like that in front of one of your study groups or friends? I’ve seen them coming here.” I take my bra and put it on hastily, sliding it under my sweater.
“I imagine they’d be jealous of why your bra wasn’t on in the first place.”
I smile, going along despite how my heart sinks. I nearly smack my hand to my forehead. Duh. Of course. I make the perfect trophy girlfriend. Pretty, dumb, big–boobed. I’m so worried about making conversation with Seth the genius, and the smart crowd he hangs with, that I fail to consider what he likes about me.
I pass around him and make it my sole focus to put my coat and boots on. He does the same. For some reason, surprising to me, I’m angry that he’d use me. And put up with my inferior intelligence just because I look good. I’m sexy. I’m not like the girls he usually dates. I’m dumb. They’re smart. It really is that simple.
But we go to dinner anyway on a real date. He opens the Jeep door for me and I get in. He also opens the door to the restaurant in downtown Ellensburg. There aren’t many choices. It’s a family–style restaurant. He waits for me to sit down before he does. I’m a little unsettled by all of his old–fashioned, gentlemanly manners.
We order. I pick a salad, not for dieting but because most everything else has some sort of meat in it. It makes my stomach hurt to glance around at all the meat dishes. But I don’t say anything or chide him when he orders a rare steak.
“My dad and I had a sort of breakthrough.”
He leans forward, obviously interested. I’m still unnerved by it, but I nod and begin. I tell him about the odd wake–up call, and our silent ride to the coast before getting on the dirt bikes. I tell him how I beat my dad and we finally talked as well as the gist of what my dad said. I leave out the part about blowing up the building but I tell Seth more than I usually tell anyone about me. Contrary to what people think, I talk a lot, but rarely say anything of interest. It’s all chatter. Nothing real or insightful about me. My chatter annoys some people, including Seth. I always talk too much. But this time, he’s listening. Sex does strange things to people. It even makes me suddenly entertaining.
Seth leans back as the waiter brings us our dinner. He’s super polite to every single person he interacts with and I really enjoy that. Anand is usually a dick to everyone, especially a waiter. This one, no doubt, is a college kid at CWU, judging by his age and disposition. Anand thinks anyone who works is stupid. But Seth? He shows nothing but total politeness. I find it more of an aphrodisiac than all of Anand’s blustering cockiness and bravado. In all honesty, he was often crude, rude, bigoted, and ignorant. He loves to yell inflammatory statements. Being away from him now, I can only wonder what was so damn appealing about him.
I learn some things about Seth too. He dodges my questions at first when I ask about what he’s studying. It has a mushrooming effect on all the differences between us. But when I press, he finally starts describing it. He talks about using biology to find new medicines or agricultural methods for doing things that will revolutionize the world. It’s all out of my league but he never hesitates to explain anything I don’t understand. I don’t have to ask him either; he seems to know what I don’t totally follow. I start to think, if things are properly explained, and I concentrate and focus, I could almost carry on a casual conversation about it.
It’s sexy as hell, I have to admit, when I listen to him. All that knowledge. Not something I’ve ever given much value to. We leave the restaurant after he pays. He’s funny and old–fashioned, kind of how I picture my dad being at his age. But for some reason, I’m enjoying the departure.
Going back to my house, an awkward silence descends. We get out of the Jeep after he pulls into the front parking of my parents’ house. I start to object, but stop. It never occurs to him not to bring me there. I have to try and be different. Maybe, then something will happen that’s different. I’m just not used to it yet.
He gets out, opens my door and waits for me to slide out. I admit, it makes me feel odd. He walks to the front door of my parents’ house. I expect the door to burst open and see my dad standing there. But no. Nothing. He walks me to the front door. I’m marveling over how nervous he is. He fidgets and something about
his discomfort releases something warm in my body. I like it. A lot. However, I start to take the lead, which means I’m about to kiss him, when he steps forward. At the same time, he slides his arm around me. His hand wraps around my waist and he leans down, placing his mouth right over mine. He kisses me for several minutes and all my bones melt like butter. He pulls me closer, tucking my head under his chin as he wraps me up in his arms. His coat is in the back seat so I am tightly against him, and his body is so warm against the frigid air. I hug him back, enjoying the sensations I feel far more than I ever have. I am stunned by how much I want to wallow against him. Then I feel his body’s tremors as the cold starts getting to him. I let him go and he smiles at me with a shy, sweet grin that melts my entire body from the inside out. He leans down one more time and kisses my lips before he releases me. He starts towards his Jeep and jumps on the running board so his head’s over the cab. With another smile, he waves one last time.
I’m freaking blushing. From his last kiss… his last glance. I’m blushing and thrilled with pleasure like it was my very first kiss and date ever.
Come to think of it, I don’t even remember my first date. Maybe it was when I made out with Carter behind the gym at school in seventh grade. Or Bryce, when he felt me up at the eighth grade graduation dance. Dating? Not really. I just hung with guys. I don’t know, it didn’t seem wrong until now, until I did this, which feels so right.
I shake it off and open the front door. My parents are sitting there. Their heads pop up. I wave. I forgot to tell them where I went. As far as they know, I was out with the dogs. I shake my failure off when they don’t mention it. “I went to dinner with Seth. Spontaneously.”
Their surprise, as well as their pleasure over that news, is evident on their faces. “Better than Armpit,” my dad grumbles at me.
“You mean Anand?”
“Yeah, whatever. Hope to never hear that name again.”
I laugh. It’s probably the first time my dad’s ever kidded around with me about a boyfriend. Ex–boyfriend. Yes, I am so done with the orgy crowd, leaving me perched on a tower while high, and the asshole that is Anand. I say goodnight, go to my bedroom, and start to change. I stare in the mirror for a long moment. I’m… happy. I had a really fun day and there is nothing weird, shameful or confusing about it. It’s a nice feeling too.
Or is it just a new feeling for me? I don’t often feel this way. I like this new feeling. New things are fun. New, exciting things to distract me from regular life. I’m easily distracted though and what if Seth’s just that? Totally surprising, but no more than a distraction? To be honest, Anand was just another bullshit boyfriend who likes to party. There isn’t that much difference in him from anyone else I slept with. But Seth? Wow, he is straight out of left field for me. The sex and his personality and everything Seth does with his time are brand new to me. Nothing to compare with my past. And that is exciting. Different. And yes, shiny and new. There is every chance that Seth is just a new toy and I’ll quickly lose interest in him when his shine wears off. It makes me sad to realize that about myself. I can’t even trust my attraction to this guy who seems like he could be the best thing to enter my life.
But I nod, trying to be honest with myself, for once. At least, if I’m aware of it, perhaps I won’t do it, or I’ll do it in a way that causes the least amount of pain.
But today was a good day. And lately, with so few of those in my life, I’ll gladly take it.
Chapter Eleven
~Melissa~
I tell my counselor, named Elizabeth Mahn about my week, starting specifically with my date with Seth. My counselor is not a doctor. She has a master’s degree, not a doctorate. I sort of like knowing her education is not as high as it could be. It’s a sore subject with me. I really don’t have anything against higher education, it’s just that I know I can’t attain it. She also encourages me to simply call her Elizabeth and that small familiarity makes it easier for me to begin discussing intimate parts of my thoughts, and life with her.
Somehow, that’s the first subject we start talking about. She asks me leading questions and I’m surprised when I manage to answer them at length. A simple question of one sentence leads to a long–winded answer, which reminds me of something else. I talk about training my dogs. I talk about school and what it was like for me. I talk about Anand and using drugs. I talk about my achievements and the things I’m not so proud of. I confess my concern about what my parents expect of me, and my confusion when their hopes don’t seem to come so easily to me.
Finally, she says, “Melissa, I think I know what your problem is.”
I freeze. Uh, no, that’s not how this stuff works. Counseling is supposed to take a long time… like years. My mom has been in therapy for years to work out her PTSD. After being raped and enduring a difficult childhood, she used to cut herself as a means of coping. No one can work out the problems in their messed–up head with just two sessions.
But she continues, “What you describe, Melissa, fits the textbook definition ofAttention–Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I suspect you don’t have hyperactivity so much as a subtype of inattention. You may be able to sit still at times, or inhibit your impulsive behavior, but still be predominantly inattentive. As a result, you have greater difficulty staying focused on anytask or activity. Like most people with this disorder, you have a combination of symptoms. Have you ever looked into the symptoms? They present differently in girls than they do in boys. And girls are three times less often to be properly diagnosed. Honestly? I think you present a classic case.”
My mouth simply drops open. “What are you talking about? I don’t bounce around like a ball, unable to sit. I can sit for long periods. I never disrupted my classes. I—”
“You sat in the back of the room, quietly lost in your own world, and turned in your assignments late. Your teachers constantly told you that if you’d simply apply yourself and concentrate, you could do whatever assignments you were tasked with.”
“Yes,” I whisper, shocked at her insight. Those are the same words I could have used to describe it.
“You have trouble with your self–esteem too. In relationships, you’re accused of being flaky, lazy, and selfish, yet you don’t mean to be any of those things, do you?”
“No. But… how did you know all that? It can’t be that obvious.”
Until now, it seemed impossible to believe that there could be an actual reason for how I am.
“Girls are regularly dismissed and overlooked because they daydream more often. They tend to lose things, act impulsively, have trouble finishing tasks, and controlling their impulses. Here is some literature about it. I sincerely encourage you, Melissa, to read through all of it, and also talk it over with your family.”
I flip open the pamphlet she hands to me. Immediately, my gaze scans the first bit of information.
ADD is a disorder that has three different types of symptoms:
Difficulty paying attention or focusing on certain tasks
Being overactive (or hyperactive)
Acting on impulse (without thinking)
Children or teens with ADD may:
Get distracted easily and forget things often
Switch too quickly from one activity to the next
Have trouble following directions
Daydream too much
Have trouble finishing tasks like homework or chores
Lose toys, books, and school supplies often
Fidget and squirm a lot.
Dear God, it’s like reading a perfect description of me.
My gaze returns to hers and she smiles gently.
“It can’t be as simple as that. How can you be sure?”
She lets out a low chuckle. She is wearing a long skirt and blazer to match with wedge–heeled boots and scarf that is tied elaborately over her chest. “Well, no, it’s not always so simple. And you realize that. I suspect it already had a profound effect on your life and your re
lationships. And when something sounds like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck… well, it’s gotta be a duck. And we could spend months here while you continue to describe more about your behavior and history, but I suspect honestly, that this is where we’ll end up eventually. I’m not a clinician. You need a medical doctor to get an official diagnosis. But there is no reason we can’t treat what we know and recognize through some behavioral therapy.”
I lick my lips and feel almost dizzy. I don’t know what to do with this information. It’s like being handed the key to myself. What’s wrong with me and how could it be that easy to determine? Is it so clear–cut when nothing about my thought processes or behavior has ever been clear–cut?
“I suspect your family will recognize many of those symptoms. You’ve talked about them at length. Their reaction to your behavior has had a huge effect on you. I think you should consult them and see what they think.”
“I want… I want to hug you.”
She grins. “It’s nice to understand oneself. Remember: this means your brain is different. It’s not your fault, it’s just a difference in how your brain functions. We can help you manage it. And eventually, control it.”
My heart swells with hope. For the first time in so long, a new sense of optimism fills me. “I would… love that. I appreciate it.”
“It’s not an exact science, and hard to diagnose, especially in someone of your age. Through a process of elimination, and matching its identification of symptoms, we can devise a therapy for you to follow. It also presents itself in many different degrees, combinations, and forms, like most mental health disorders. ADD may look completely different in someone else.”
“But you really think I could have this? I wouldn’t be crazy telling that to my family?” I know she already suggested it, but I can’t believe there could actually be a reason for my thoughts and behavior. A reason that isn’t my fault or because of my failure. It’s not just a matter of willing myself to be better anymore.
