Page 91 of Love in the Lab
“What are their names again?” I’m not sure why I ask, because five minutes from now the names will have already leaked out of my brain like water through a sieve.
“Charlotte is the oldest, then Hannah, and then little Mia.”
“How old are they?”
“I don’t know. Charlotte and Hannah are, like, elementary school age, and Mia is not yet.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not helpful at all.” I gasp. “Oh my gosh, we need to buy them presents! We still need to geteveryonepresents!”
Jonathan smirks. “Do we, though? I kind of figured our presence was present enough.”
I groan. “Absolutely not.” I pick up a notepad from where I’ve left it on the bedside table. I’m trying out list-making to help me keep better track of all the tasks that need to get done. I have notepads all around the apartment, so there’s always one close at hand when I need to write something down. “We only have two days before we leave. Let’s see ... Tamara and her husband. The girls. Your dad and Sharon.” I tap the pen against my chin. “Do we need to get them two gifts? One for Christmas and one for their wedding?”
I feel the panic and overwhelm brewing in my chest as my brain tries to keep hold of all the tasks looming over the next few weeks. Between traveling for Christmas, moving to a new state, changing jobs, and being recently married, I think I’ve hit most of the life-change events they tell you to watch out for on those stress tests. My old routine is so far gone at this point that it wouldn’t be able to see me with binoculars.
Jonathan shrugs. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Mol. Nobody’s expecting anything, except probably the girls.”
All of a sudden, Jonathan’s laissez-faire attitude irks me in a way it hasn’t for months. The annoyance flares into rapidly-igniting anger, and before I can even identify why I’m upset, I’m a raging wildfire.
“Is this my life now? Really? I have to take care of all the little details because you don’t think it's a big deal and won’t do anything to help?” I hear my voice shouting, but I don’t feel like I’m in control of the words or volume.
While the thoughtStop, you don’t want to do this, surfaces in my brain, the words are quickly drowned out by sensations hitting me hard and fast from every direction. I can’t reach the place of logic that produced the warning. Everything in my body feels all wrong all at the same time. My skin is too warm. The room is too small. The waistband on my leggings squeezes my stomach uncomfortably.
“I thought I was getting a partner, but I guess it’s just more work for me to figure out alone!” I shut my eyes against Jonathan’s stunned expression. Turning, I escape into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I crumple onto the fluffy rug and release sob after sob in giant convulsions. Bit by bit, the softness of the rug and the cool fiberglass wall of the bathtub next to me lull me out of the meltdown.
I sit up and cover my face with my hands in embarrassment. A freaking ADHD meltdown. I haven’t had one like that in years. On the one hand, the fact that I expressed what I was feeling instead of bottling it up is a big step. On the other hand, I know I absolutely need to find healthier ways to express those feelings. Love or not, he shouldn’t have to put up with scenes like the one I just caused, especially when I know how stressed he is about this trip and talking to his dad.
A quiet tap sounds on the bathroom door. “Molly?” Jonathan calls in an equally soft voice. “I’m sorry.”
I heave myself up from the bathroom floor with a sigh. I catch sight of myself in the mirror—my eyes are puffy and red, the skin on my face blotchy. I open the door, letting my hair cascade over my face to hide myself.
Jonathan’s face is a study in concern. His eyes flit from my face to the rug imprints on my knees. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Of course I should be the one to figure out gifts for my family.”
I shake my head, causing my hair to swish back and forth over my cheeks. “No,I’msorry.”
Cautiously, he reaches out and puts his hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just—” I suck in a wavering breath.
“Hey,” Jonathan soothes. “Come here.” He tugs me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me.
“I never wanted you to see me like that. You don’t deserve emotional ambushes. But listen, it’s rare, okay? For me to have a meltdown. It’s been years. I guess with everything changing right now, I’m feeling overwhelmed. I’ll keep working on healthier ways to express my emotions.”
Jonathan pulls away from the embrace enough to comb the hair out of my face. “If it’s a part of you, I want to see it. I want to know. Lifeisoverwhelming right now. We made our choices, and they’re all good changes for the most part, I think, but there’s still a lot going on.”
“I just don’t … don’t want you to think you made a mistake, tying yourself to me. I tried to warn you; I’m a lot to deal with.”
He holds my gaze, his fingers still in my hair. “Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not perfect either, if you haven’t noticed.” His lips tip up in a tentative grin.
I sniffle. “Ihaven’tnoticed. You seem pretty perfect.”
“I’m not.” He smiles sadly. “Just ask my dad.”
I squeeze him tighter. “Your dad loves you. He’ll go easy on you.”
He sighs. “Maybe, but he shouldn’t.”
I stretch onto my tiptoes, aiming my lips at his nose. At the last second, he lifts his head, smirking, and I land on his lips instead.
