Chapter 41
Carmello
Now
While Teddy’s getting his things ready to go, I say, “I’m sorry you had to see…”
“Carmello,” Daniela cuts in. “I don’t care that you’re back with your ex. It was a bit of a shock to see her with Teddy, sure, but you were right about everything you said when we talked about us. And there are more important things to discuss now.”
She takes a long breath and tells me something did happen in the Bahamas. She got an update call from Teddy’s therapist and she freaked out about it and booked an early flight home.
My pulse picks up. I lean forward in my chair and ask, “Well, what did she say?”
“She said he’s too young for her to feel comfortable diagnosing him with it yet, but she thinks Teddy might be developing OCD,” Daniela says, and I’m stunned for a second, thinking of everything I know about the mental health condition and everything I don’t.
“She wanted to tell me about her suspicions now because the earlier we can work together on any tics or tendencies he has, the better chance he has to overcome any OCD-related obstacles as he ages,” Daniela continues.
“And maybe he won’t even fully develop it when he’s an adult, but if he does, he’ll have tools to help him not suffer from it. ”
Suffer. The word rings harsh in my ears. My stomach twists. I sit back in the chair and say, “Why does she think he has OCD? What are the symptoms?”
“She said he has a particular fear of germs and dirty hands, and she notices some compulsions or rituals, small things like the way he anxiously ties his shoes and has to lace them a certain way and how he talks about his fear of drowning and…” Daniela trails off for a moment, and I reach out to squeeze her hand, remembering my conversation with Teddy after his bad dream the other day.
“She said he hyperfixates on bad stuff. You know? Like he’s scared of things a kid his age shouldn’t be scared of.
And that we should be watchful of repetitive reassurance-seeking, a need for order, and if any of those things produce rituals and behaviors.
And…if he has any intrusive thoughts about him hurting himself or others.
” I watch tears fall from Daniela’s eyes and feel a knot in my throat. “Our baby.”
“Hey,” I say, pulling her close to comfort her while I’m still digesting the news.
Teddy might have OCD, but those symptoms feel so familiar.
Daniela pulls away and looks me in the eyes, says, “People grow up and deal with all sorts of things, you know? But if there’s anything we can do to make Teddy’s future a little easier, we should try our best. You’re his family, which means you’re my family too and we have a responsibility to each other because of him.
So, I’ll work on my own mental health, but I need you to find time to speak to his therapist this week and maybe get one for yourself too.
I never really knew what OCD was. I just always pictured it as people who keep their house extra clean.
But Teddy’s therapist said that’s just a romanticized version of the real thing and that OCD can be genetic and run in families, and that she’s noticed you…
hyperfixate on certain things when she recaps with you too, like over-worrying about Teddy’s safety.
She said that sometimes hyperfixation can be triggered by trauma.
And Carmello, we always joke about how you’re the helicopter parent between the two of us, but maybe it’s deeper than that.
Maybe you have unhealed trauma from your mom being sick the first time. ”
“Mommy, I’m ready,” Teddy says, and I turn to see him standing in the doorway with One Piece. I wonder if he heard any of that. I wonder if he can see how fast I’m breathing.
***
Orderly. First: I text Daniela to reassure her that I’ll find time to see a therapist and get evaluated because my son takes up the most space in my heart, so making sure he’s safe and happy is my top priority.
Second: I get in the car after Olivia agrees to spend time with me because she also takes up space in my heart and I don’t want to lose her.
But when I pull up in her parking lot, I don’t text her right away.
I zone out scrolling through the information on the California OCD Treatment Center website.
According to what I read, hyperfixation is categorized as when a person chooses a certain object, thought, or activity to intensely focus on at any given time.
And I realize I do that, mostly when it comes to my fears over Teddy.
That I silently seek reassurance and I learned to read body language long ago to get it because my parents weren’t the best at communicating with their words and I didn’t always know whether they were happy with me as a son.
That I seek reassurance in Olivia’s smile, just to calm my racing mind about whether she’s happy with me as a boyfriend.
That maybe my mom had intrusive thoughts that caused rituals too.
It might be why she always worried about me going to the mall, saying I might get kidnapped.
And why she never wanted me to sleep over at anyone’s house because people were creeps.
And why she reminded me to pray and then would call me to remind me again before she went to bed, and why she always had to tell me to stay safe—just like I have to tell Teddy now or something bad might happen to him too.
I lose track of the time scouring the internet about OCD and Olivia notices I’m outside by peeking through the blinds and seeing me on my phone. She’s not mad that I was twenty minutes later than I said I would be. Just kisses me and tells me she wants to go to the pedestrian bridge.
Now here we are, and I’m trying to concentrate on her. This moment, sitting across from her on a bench. But my mind is telling me that I should still be searching the web to make sure I don’t have rituals that could inadvertently cause damage to our relationship.
“I have to admit,” Olivia says, breaking our silence, “I saw the photo strip of you, Teddy, and Daniela in your glove compartment, and I’ve been trying not to wonder if there’s any part of you that wants to be with her and grow a family. But is there?”
I reach to gently tip her face so she can meet my eyes. “No, O. I promise you this: Daniela gave me a beautiful son. I’ll always be grateful to her for that, but co-parenting is all we’ll ever do. I want you.”
She chews her lower lip, then says, “That’s good because I would have been devastated if you said otherwise.
But I have to be honest with you about something.
I told you about my endometriosis. What I didn’t tell you was…
as a result of suffering from this all these years, I’ve decided I don’t want to have children.
The endo already took away so much control of my body, and with it, my autonomy.
I don’t think I can give up any more of that, but even if I did ever change my mind, if something makes me want to try with you…
in the future…the endo might make it more complicated. ”
“So then we won’t have kids,” I say simply while stroking her cheek.
“You told me you wanted more,” she says. “And I want to be fair to you, Mello.”
“I did say that, but I promise it’s not something I’d ask you to compromise on. My life is full enough already. I have you and Celia’s Place, friends, family, and I already have Teddy.”
She smiles. “You sure?”
I smooth my hands down her arms. “I’m sure.”
She nods, then stands up to lean over the railing, says, “I’m sad I lost another sunset here tonight, and who knows if I’ll ever get to see one because of what time Celia’s Place closes. But it’s fine. I’d probably still prefer it at this time anyway.”
When I join her, she leans into me a little.
And I hear what she’s saying, but this is the way I focus on her: elbows propped to steady herself on the railing of the bridge, her hair blowing in the wind while she stares across the Providence River.
I tell myself that when her attention slips from one thing to the next and then she gets quieter than usual, she’s probably thinking of all the things she said she liked about being here this late.
Like the way the lights sparkle from the tall buildings and the State House “actually makes it look like magic from a distance.” And the dark water against this yellow-lit bridge.
Or that there are only a few other people here but they’re so far from us it feels like we’re alone together.
I hear what she’s saying, but my brain is orderly.
It might not always focus on the thing that happens first, but it does focus on what’s heavier or harder to fix.
And sometimes it gets stuck there. If catching sunsets makes Olivia happy, maybe she’ll want to catch more of them.
And she should. I want her to have all the happiness that she wants.
But I do wonder how she can do that here with me, working at Celia’s Place, in Rhode Island with a routine.
Right now, I don’t want to be focused on heavier thoughts.
I want to be wrapped up completely in her closeness.
I want to be able to feel it fully—the way she seems to when she suddenly reaches up to pull my face down for a kiss.
But when she breaks away, humming in satisfaction over the heart feelings as well as the physical ones, before looking back across the water, my mind spins with these thoughts.
I feel too slow to catch up. These are the things I hyperfixate on while we spend time together.
But the biggest one is how I’m so scared that we won’t have enough of it.
That our moments won’t be exciting enough to keep her here. With me.
***
When we circle back and arrive at her Airbnb’s parking spot, Olivia grins in a way that tells me she’s got a plan for me on the brain.
“Teddy’s with his mom. That means you can sleep over?
” she says, and everything else falls aside for a second.
I lean over the console to kiss her, remembering the wild time we had in my truck the other day.
At first, I was nervous someone would see us, but Olivia reassured me my tint was too dark for that.
Still, I’ll admit I was a little distracted feeling protective of her after she straddled my lap.
Sometimes her personality clashes with mine in a bad way.
But I’ve long realized that much more often, it challenges me to do some of the things I haven’t had the balls to.
And right now, she’s pouting for me to stay, even though she’s tried so hard to hide the fact that she’s been cramping all day and it’s gotten worse.
I think she’s on her period. But that’s not why I’m wondering if sleeping over is the best idea for tonight.
I have so much to do back at my place still.
Will have to wake up even earlier to go home and shower, feed and walk One Piece, definitely skip my morning run.
“You’re thinking about it so hard,” Olivia says, faking offense. “Forget it.”
I roll my eyes, kiss her forehead, and shut off my engine.
Knowing it’ll be worth the extra work if I get to sleep beside her tonight.
As much as her presence challenges my nervous system, it has equal ability to calm it too.
And I can tell my presence does the same for her.
When we get in bed, I’ll massage her lower back and she’ll start telling me a story and then jump to another story and before I know it, she’ll fall asleep mid-sentence, and I’ll curl my body around her and my brain might just hyperfixate on how good it feels to do that and how I never want to stop.
And at least being with her will distract me from spending the night worrying about whether I’ve passed OCD on to my son and what that’ll mean for him.