Page 91 of Fighting Spirit

I stare up at the ceiling, knowing what I need to do. Am I really going to throw cold water on this whole night by keeping this from him? He’s my boyfriend now, and I don’t want to have secrets, especially one that’s such a big part of who I am, but I’m just so fucking scared.

Maybe I need to rip the band-aid off. I mean, he’s going to find out eventually, right? It might be better if I tell him while he’s still basking in his post-virginity-loss glow. I try to psych myself up as I pull back my hand and fold my arms over my face.

This is Rowan. This is Rowan, and I trust him. He’s never given me any reason to think he’d be an ass about this.

I repeat to myself over and over,he’s not Marshall, he’s not my mom, he’s Rowan.

“Just go,” I say through my hands.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” I groan, not able to look at him. I feel him get up, moving like I’m going to change my mind. Before he goes in, he drops a quick kiss to my cheek.

“Thank you.” He nips my earlobe, and then he’s gone.

I hear him shuffling around in the bathroom, and nervous energy fires through me. I can’t lay here anymore so I stand up and wander over my dresser. There’s clutter scattered all across it and I start tidying, putting stuff into random drawers and stacking bobby pins back into the ceramic dish I bought at a flea market to hold them in. I’d thought having a cute containerwould get me to actually put them away, but it only lasted a week before they were thrown across my room again.

Rowan shuts the bathroom door behind him as he comes back in. I wonder if he’ll pretend he didn’t see them, but he’s never been one to act dumb. “You didn’t want me to see the charts?” He doesn’t sound mad, just a little confused.

I shake my head but don’t turn around. He comes to me, wrapping both arms around me and resting his head on my shoulder.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dumb,” I mumble.

“What is?”

“I am.” I spin in his arms. “I can’t even remember to brush my teeth if I don’t give myself a gold star.”

“Ruth, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure plenty of people have the same issue.”

“I just hate it.” I lean against him, letting him take my weight. “You know I have to make them myself? I tried to download one, but they’re all for toddlers.”

He takes a long moment before speaking, his fingers playing with the ends of my hair. “One of them was about your medication.” He speaks carefully, like he’s afraid of setting off a landmine. “You never told me you had ADHD.”

I feel myself physically bracing for his judgment, but when he says nothing, I realize he wants an answer.

“No.” I don’t really know what he wants from me right now.

“Why not?”

I chew on my lip, trying to find the words to explain.

“Ruth, it’s not that big a deal,” he says before I can get there. I frown, feeling the indignation build at the way it sounds like he’s minimizing this.

He must see his mistake because he rushes out, “I mean, yes, it’s obviously a big deal to you-”

“To me?”

“No!” His arms tighten like he’s afraid I’m going to bolt. “Yes, it’s a big deal and I’m really grateful you told me-”

“I didn’t exactly tell you.”

“Then, I’m grateful you let me see the paper you have taped up across from your toilet,” he sasses. “I’m really happy that you opened up to me. It means a lot that you trust me with this. I understand that it’s important.”

“Are you mad at me for not saying anything before?”

“Of course not.” He frames my face with his hands, forcing me to look right at him. “But I hate that you were afraid to.”

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