“I don’t understand why you think you can’t have both. You’re young and should be out, living your life, not spending your days studying and nights working. You need some enjoyment. Go out and meet people.”
“Because…” He clenched his hand into a fist and shook his head, unwilling to go into further depths. “Can we not talk about this, please?”
His last boyfriend was back in college—he’d broken up with him over his ADHD, claiming he couldn’t deal with someone who had a “mental problem.” A part of Reed still hurt from the cruelty of those two words Mason had so casually flung at him while heading out the door. Stupidly, in an effort to prove he was normal and therefore good enough, he’d stopped taking his medication cold turkey and crashed about four days later. His sleep pattern became even more erratic, and he could barely concentrate on his schoolwork. Restless didn’t begin to describe his emotional state. He’d pick things up and forget why and put them down, only to pick them up again a minute later.
Only when he came dangerously close to failing a midterm exam did Reed know he had to regain control over his increasingly fragile emotional state. He made the decision to confess all to his psychiatrist and restarted his medication, resigned to the fact it was a lifelong struggle he’d have to learn to deal with. For three years he’d managed, finishing college, finding a job and enrolling in the post-graduate hotel management program.
Now, when guys he met commented on his unflagging energy and late nights of studying, he’d brush it off with a laugh. Whatever restlessness he might still have, he worked off at the gym, and Reed could see the positive results. He’d never had muscles before, and it felt good to be strong, at least physically. He might draw a bit when he returned to his apartment after work or class, losing himself in his sketches. But never again would he entrust and reveal his emotional health to another person. That part of him was not for public consumption; he had no wish to be devastated like that again. Solitude was the safest course for him.
Left by his own mother and then by a man he thought he loved, Reed knew three strikes and he’d be out. However strong he might appear, he couldn’t take another blow.
Giving him a long, hard look, his father took out his wallet, and Vernon yelled from down the bar, “Don’t even think about it, Walter. I told you before, family discount is one hundred percent.”
This was as close to a family as he had right now: his dad and these guys at the bar. Vernon was the only one at work he’d told about his ADHD because he randomly drug-tested all the employees. Reed didn’t want his antianxiety meds to show up on the test and have Vernon think he was abusing drugs for school or worse. He made light of it and never let on how it controlled his life; Reed neither wanted nor needed pity, no matter how well intended. One day he planned to control his illness, not have it control him.
“I’m fine, Dad,” he said quietly. “Really. Let me do what I have to do, the way I want.”
“I always have, but it’s hard to see you alone; you’re such a people person. And I know what it’s like to be alone for too long.”
After he and Mason had broken up he told the whole miserable story to his father and received a stern lecture not only on wasting himself on someone so obviously self-centered, but also on the dangers of not taking his medicine. Reed had vowed to himself if it happened again he’d maintain his privacy and not tell his father, but then became anxious that he’d upset and disappoint him. It was a no-win situation for him, as usual.
“I wish you’d take your own advice then and date.” For years after his mother left, his father concentrated so much on Reed and his issues, there was little time for anything or anyone else. Once he became a teenager and needed less supervision, Reed knew his father had dated several women, but nothing serious enough that Reed had ever met any of them.
“As a matter of fact, I have been seeing someone lately.”
If his father was hoping for a reaction from him, he got one. Reed knew his mouth fell open in surprise.
“Really? Who is she? Why haven’t you told me?”
And from his father’s soft expression Reed instantly knew this woman meant something to him.
“I met Ariel at a cooking class I registered for about a month ago. We were stationed next to each other, and the next thing I knew we were having so much fun, the instructor got mad and told us to leave.” He chuckled. “We ended up having dinner, and we’ve been dating ever since.” He stood and slid his wallet back into his pocket.
“I’m thrilled for you, Dad. You deserve the best.”
“So do you.” The concerned expression returned to his father’s face. “Don’t think I’m going to stop worrying about you because I’m involved with someone. You’re still taking your medicine, right?”
Jesus. He made one stupid mistake; when was his father going to stop being his keeper?
“I’m twenty-seven, Dad, not seven. I don’t need you checking up on me.”
“I don’t want you thinking—”
“I know, I know. I’m taking it, okay? I’ll always need to take it.” Reed could hear the frustration and anger in his voice, and while he didn’t want to direct it at his father, whom he loved more than anything, the well overflowed. “You don’t need to remind me I’ll never grow out of it. I remember what happened when I stopped. I crashed and almost had a breakdown. But I’m stronger now, mentally and physically. I’m never going to let anything or anyone hurt me like that again, so stop worrying about me and treating me like a child, okay?”
Breathing heavily, Reed’s heart squeezed from the distress on his father’s face, yet he owed him the truth. He’d never given him anything less.
“How long have you waited for a chance to tell me that?”
No condemnation, only concern. And that made Reed feel even guiltier.
“A while,” he admitted.
“Good. You shouldn’t hold your feelings in. It’s not a good thing for you.” His father shot him a look. “Or anyone.”
It seemed it was a time for confessions, so Reed decided to be candid. “You as well. I’m glad you’ve met someone. But you held back all these years because of me. It’s your time now.”
A warm hand covered his own, and Reed remembered his childhood and always having that strength to lean on.
