I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
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I lay my cheek down against the cool counter top and breathed. The steam of my breath gathered on the shiny, counter surface for a few seconds before evaporating. The room just kept spinning.
"That was disgusting!" Dad came in through the back door laughing. "Liam puked, pussy." He stopped in his tracks and looked at me. "What's up?"
"Nothing. I'm fine. I'm going to bed." I told him, standing upright and lowering my shades back over my eyes.
He wore his dad face, the one that told me he was concerned. It was basically a constant face around me. I walked out and he followed.
"You're going to bed?"
Roughly translated to, how long are you going to be there? Are you trapped in a downward spiral? Are you taking your meds? Do you feel depressed?
I flopped down on my bed and looked up at the ceiling light patterns my chandelier cast.
"Don't put your shoes on the bed." I didn't move to take them off so he dropped to his knees and started untying my laces. I threw my shades across the room aggressively.
"I'm so fucking sad." I whispered.
My dad froze, no longer untying my laces. I sat up, pushing myself up on the bed with my two hands.
I put my fingers in his hair, pulling up one of his springy curls and letting it fall back into place. He had hair like mine, I mean my mom had curly hair as well but the texture and shape of mine was more like my dads.
"Why are you sad Arlo?" I put my fingers over his lips and told him to 'shhh' but I could feel the tears clogging behind my eyes, making his concern blur like my vision.
He continued removing my shoes and then he pushed me into the bed and tucked the covers in around me, just like he used to do when I was a young child.
"Maybe sleeping for a while will help." He suggested softly.
I smiled, he had no idea.
No idea what to say, what to do.
He wanted to help, he just didn't know how.
"Come cuddle me." I tapped the bed beside me and he hesitated for a few seconds before climbing in next to me, I threw the duvet over us both and pulled his strong arm over my chest protectively. He didn't talk, neither did I. I just wiggled back into his body, wanting his comfort.
We lay for a while, silently pondering over our thoughts and then he finally plucked up the courage to ask me the question burning through his mind.
"Why are you sad Arlo?" I could hear the emotion in his voice.
"I don't know." I admitted. "Or maybe I do know." I sighed. "I don't know."
"Arlo—"
That simple word on his lips, it was spoken in a way where I knew what was going to follow it. The, 'are you taking your meds' question. I didn't want that question so I interrupted him.
"I think I like a girl, she hates me. What do you do when the girl you like hates you?"
He didn't reply for a few seconds while he thought on the answer.
"You marry her." He remarked, smiling.
"Dad." I sighed, "forget it."
"Arlo, I'm sure she doesn't hate you. You're very likable... when you want to be."
"I think she's kind of racist."
"She's been racist towards you?" I could see the fury building up behind his dark eyes.
"I wasn't meant to like her, I don't know why I like her. I just wanted her to like me, like the others but when I kissed her... she wasn't like the others."
"Okay first of all, we can't help who we're attracted to if we could do you think your uncle Ben would've married that psycho?
Racism is learnt behaviour, I trust your judgment son. You wouldn't be attracted to this girl if you didn't see something beyond all of that. Maybe she's not really racist, perhaps someone at home is forcing those beliefs onto her. It's hurtful and horrible but people can only grow from the mistakes they've made.
If she's grown up in a racist household she doesn't know any different, but you know what? She'll have the best teacher. Educate her, she'll open her eyes and thank you for it one day. Just be yourself if she doesn't fall for you after that then she's not worth your time. It's better to move on knowing that you tried and it didn't work out rather than not try at all."
I nodded sadly.
"I think she's homophobic as well."
"Fuck off Arlo, I can't tell if you're joking with me now. You seriously like someone like that?" I nodded. "Where did I go so wrong with you?" He joked.
"Imagine if she knew I had bipolar disorder?"
"Arlo—"
"Dad, a relationship? What would that even look like for me?"
"I don't know." He answered honestly.
"Could I even be in a relationship?"
"Of course." He didn't seem sure.
"Would I stay faithful?"
"Arlo I don—"
"Would I hurt them during an episode?"
"Arlo—"
"Would they leave me because I can't get out of bed and help them with simple tasks?"
"Relationships are hard, yours might just be a little harder, but it's not impossible. You may not know this son but you're easy to love. Someone who loves you will understand but in order to get there, you gotta cut the bullshit. Arlo, I've seen you. You flirt with cashiers at the supermarket, it's not real. The front you show to people isn't who you really are. Show the person you like your heart."
"That would be a huge mistake."
He kissed my forehead. "Maybe but you're one of the best mistakes I ever made, so they're not all bad." I shoved him.
"Dadddd." I complained, he laughed.
"Honestly though, I love you with every bit of my heart and I'm not going to judge this girl until she has had time to grow. But you might not want to mention these things to your mother if we ever happen to meet her." I smiled shyly at him.
"It's Fearne, dad."
"It is?"
His smile faded, like it was taboo for me to like one of Liam and Olives kids.
Maybe it was.
"Yeah. I like Fearne."
"We don't know what she's been through Arlo, foster children don't come from easy roads. Take everything slow, give her time, give yourself time."
