Chapter 24 #2
“Um.” Even after telling Rose and Marissa, acknowledging my past was still difficult.
I blew out a tight breath. “Well, I spent most of my childhood trying to change who I was and to be who my mother wanted.” I tilted my head.
“I realized later, I wasn’t who I wanted to be.
” I spun my ring and flexed my hands. “I grew tired of everyone being disappointed in me, especially my mom, so I left. I found something that was as far away and as different from my old life as possible.”
His eyes were full of questions.
I shrugged. “I know life is full of unmet expectations with relationships.” I took a bite of my sandwich. “Maybe none more so than a parent-child one.” I lifted my drink, hoping the Dr Pepper would spark a change in conversation. My hand started shaking.
Adam scooted closer and held out his hand for mine. I set down my Dr Pepper and placed my hands in his as he squeezed them. “What do you mean?”
The weight of his hands over mine grounded me, and my panic eased slightly.
I sighed. “Most parents envision their children destined for an exceptionally perfect life, and children are bound to disappoint by being their own unexceptional human beings with their own wants.” A tear betrayed my pain, and I wiped it with my left shoulder.
Adam’s brow furrowed in my peripheral.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Whew! That was maybe a little dramatic.” I rolled my eyes.
“It’s not a big deal.” I looked down at the fabric of my dress pants.
“I’m still not used to talking much about my past though.
” I pushed out a tight breath. “That might take a bit of practice before it doesn’t sting. ”
His eyebrows scrunched down. “You’re wrong.”
Wait. “I’m wrong about what?”
“You are extraordinary.” He reached up and ran his thumb down my jaw, wiping a stray tear I hadn’t known was there.
I gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Well, I sure wasn’t what my mother wanted.”
Adam tightened his grip on my hands. “You might not be who your mother wanted, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t exceptional.” He dipped his head so that his brown eyes pierced mine. “And you get to decide who you are supposed to be, no one else.”
“I spent most of my life hating myself and the way my brain works.” The tears burning behind my eyes, I cleared my throat.
He rubbed his hand down my arm. “You get why that doesn’t work, right?” His left eyebrow raised.
I tipped my head. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think having differences can be something that is ‘unique and amazing’ in other people, but bad in you.” He gave me a small smile.
My forehead creased.
“I think the way your brain works, and the experiences you’ve had, have made you the exceptional person you are.” He pulled me tight into a hug, and I was grateful for the space to hide my ugly tears.
My breath caught, realizing he might be right.
“You’re the person who notices when someone is feeling isolated, like Dotty at the Christmas party.
The person who notices my son is not eating lunch and helps him in a way that makes him feel comfortable.
The person who will stand up to an adult about what a child might need, even though confrontation literally makes you sick. You are hyperaware of others.”
He was making me sound far too glorious. I scoffed. “Okay, but it’s also the reason I had a panic attack at the dance. I can’t walk into a room of people without getting in my head about what is the right thing to do, and why my mom and I can’t find any common ground.”
He pressed his lips against my forehead. “I still think you made it out ahead.” He shrugged. “Who cares if you don’t like crowds or get nervous? You are kind, which is way more important than either.”
I leaned away from him to look into his eyes, needing to see him, needing him to hear me. “I haven’t always been kind. When I was a senior in high school, I was actually a bully for a bit, and I hate myself for it.” I looked down.
Adam pursed his lips. “I think that’s partly the cost of growing up.” He rubbed his hand down my arm. “Not that it’s okay, or that it doesn’t matter.” He tilted his head. ”Just that we might need more grace as we grow.”
I nodded as I thought that over.
I whispered. “I also pretend like I don’t care, but I actually hate it that my parents are disappointed in me.”
He rested his palm against my cheek. “I know a little about being a disappointment.” Adam shrugged. “I was depressed for a long time, even before Cassie and I separated.”
Adam sat there helping ease my pain, when he knew what it felt like for the people who are meant to love and cherish you to belittle and shred you apart instead.
“My divorce and then learning to be myself was the hardest thing I have ever experienced.” Adam kissed the back of my hand.
“I was broken and sure I could never be whole.” His eyes closed.
“That I would have to make the best dad I could out of the pieces I had left.” His thumb traced the back of my hand.
“Then there was learning to forgive myself for the choices I made while trying to survive.” He sighed.
“I hurt people. I cut off communication with my mom and everyone from my past. I was self-destructive at times, and I lost my patience with Danny often.” He bit the inside of his cheek.
“I had to change parts of myself to be someone else, and there was a cost that I paid for it.” He looked at me and raised his right shoulder. “Trust me, I get it.”
I looked at him and saw the weight that pressed down on his shoulders, the pain of his mistakes. It’s obvious it wasn’t an easy process, but he wasn’t left with a half-self. He was whole in a way that was beautiful. A way I wanted to be.
Adam shifted. “I eventually grew tired of hating myself for everything I wasn’t and tried to love what I was instead.” He studied me. “Life is too short to spend any of it hating yourself.”
“Huh.” My forehead creased. I hadn’t thought of it like that.
“I saw this quote once. I think it was by Dolly Parton, maybe.” He tipped his chin in thought. “It said, ‘Find out who you are, and do it on purpose.’ That became my resolution. Being true to me, on purpose.” He leaned his head on mine.
“Go, Dolly.” I chuckled and then reached up and rubbed my thumb along his jaw and his eyes met mine.
“And go you.” He leaned into my touch. I knew I wanted something different from the relationship I had with myself.
I wanted to be me on purpose. I wanted to focus on the good pieces of me and not stare only at my weaknesses.
“The people who are meant to be in my life will accept me for who I am. The ones who won’t…” He shrugged. “I’m better off knowing sooner rather than later.”
He took my hand and pressed his lips onto my palm.
“I was sure every other relationship would leave me with even less of myself. That no one could be trusted not to want to change and mold me into someone else.” He shook his head.
“I couldn’t go back to who I was, so I avoided any relationships at all. ”
I nodded. “I mean, that makes sense.”
He moved closer to me, I laid my head on his shoulder, and he rested his hand on my leg. “Thank you.” His voice was soft. “Even if it doesn’t work out between us, I can now see that it is possible. That maybe one day, I can trust and be in a healthy relationship with all of me.”
I looked up at him and placed my hand over his.
I don’t think anyone has said anything more beautiful to me.
“I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot.” I leaned back.
“I’m sure I will do and say things that might unintentionally hurt you.
” My shoulders dropped. “But I can promise I have no intention of changing you.”
His eyes were now shining with unshed tears, and he tipped his chin toward my mouth and paused, asking and searching in the most vulnerable way if he could kiss me.
This lunch meeting had not gone as expected. I planned on way more kissing, but somehow this was even better.
But that was enough healing for now.
“Are we done with all this healing garbage so we can just make out now?” I smirked.
“Definitely.” Adam smiled. His lips pressed against mine. They were soft at first, like we were holding all the broken pieces of each other and trying not to hurt the other person further.
I didn’t want to be careful. I wanted passion and fire. I wanted something so real and deep, there was no denying it. I pulled myself closer to him and kissed him harder. I wanted him to know all the pieces of me; I wanted him to know he mattered.
He matched my intensity, and the heat that passed between us welded our hearts into something a little more whole.
Like the Japanese art kintsugi, where broken pieces of pottery and dishes are fused back together with lines of gold, we created something stronger, and more beautiful than it was before.
My alarm went off in my back pocket, and I sighed against his lips. “Time’s up.”
He grumbled as I pulled away from him and traced my hand along his jawline. His mouth went to my palm and kissed it again.
“Can I walk you back?” He smirked and laced his fingers through mine and kissed the back of my hand as we stood.
I felt my heart speed up, but not in an anxious way. “Sure.” I grabbed my lunch, and we walked hand in hand to his office door.
“So.” Adam sighed. “How would testing and labeling help if Danny is neurodivergent?”
I gathered my thoughts. “Have you noticed things you do that help with Danny? Like before you leave in the morning or at basketball games? Or how you can tell when he is feeling overwhelmed, and how to help him?”
He tilted his head. “Yeah.” We walked through the gym and into the elementary building.
I shrugged. “So the hope is that testing and setting up a plan will help the teachers and other people who work with Danny know what he needs to be successful.” We walked through the hall. “There can also be extra support, resources, or accommodations too.”
“Hm.” He put his hand that wasn’t holding mine on the back of his neck.
“It can be challenging. Just like anything else.” I raised my right shoulder. “There can be pros and cons. And labels can be scary.” I squeezed his hand in mine. “But regardless if you label him or not, it doesn’t change who Danny is. He will always be Danny.”