“Maybe. But there I go again, making it all about me.” Sharing with him feels more natural than breathing. Without even trying, Jordan manages to collect the secrets I normally guard so carefully. “Enough about me. Tell me something about you no one else knows,” I say, shifting the conversation back to him.
Jordan’s quiet for a long moment, thinking before he says, “I watch horror movies when I need to cheer up.”
“Oh? Please say more.”
“I don’t think I’ve told anyone this, but when I’m upset or sad, I usually sit by myself and watch a scary movie. The gorier the better. They make me happy. Which I realize sounds incredibly messed up.”
“I’m reserving judgment until you tell me why. Don’t worry. At the moment, it’s only giving light red flag vibes,” I tease. “Please explain.”
“It started when I was young. My mom had this DVD collection she was so proud of. She bought like a hundred movies for twenty bucks back when video stores were going out of business.” He repositions his body on the branch. “She wouldn’t allow me to watch them, but I was alone in our apartment so much that no one was around to stop me or see what I was doing. So, one day I thought I was being rebellious, and I watched The Exorcist.”
“How old were you?”
“Too young. Maybe seven or eight? But the thing is, it didn’t scare me. There was so much real-world stuff to be afraid of every day, like parents getting arrested, or eviction notices on the door, or running out of food. The idea of levitating or having my head spin seemed silly in comparison. I thought it was funny grown-ups could actually be scared of something like that. I guess it made me feel brave to watch it and not be affected.”
My chest squeezes at the idea of little Jordan being forced to navigate big, adult-sized challenges while he learned how to channel his courage all alone in his living room.
“So, I kept watching them,” he continues. “And I learned most of the things the world said were scary were totally unrealistic. Strangers with chainsaws were way less believable than the stuff that actually scared me. Now I guess I associate those movies with feeling safe, which sounds weird, I know.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m glad you found something that worked for you,” I try to reassure him. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Does this mean I get another one of your secrets?” he asks, a hint of hope lacing his question, giving me the impressionthat maybe, just maybe, he values these conversations as much as I do.
I hesitate because I only have one secret left, and it involves his best friend. But I nod and let out a shallow breath, knowing it’s probably not much of a secret anyway. “Sometimes I still resent my brother for what he put our family through. I know it’s not fair because he’s done so much to change. But I can’t help how I feel.”
Jordan nods, slowly. “Mike’s told me a little bit about how bad things got for a while, but I’ve never metthatguy. I haven’t seen that side of him.”
“I know. And I love how he’s been able to rebuild his life in North Bay.” I do. I love my brother, and I’m so proud of him and everything he’s been able to accomplish. He did the work and made amends. He has apologized so sincerely, so many times. “I forgave him a long time ago, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy to forget. It’s hard to watch someone you love self-destruct right in front of you and know you can’t do anything to help. Watching them become a different person changes a kid. Fundamentally.”
“I get it.” Jordan’s somber tone tells me he really does understand. From what I know about his parents, I believe him.
“I love Mikey. He’s my brother, first and always. But...” I clear my throat to try to rid myself of the lump that is forming in my airway. “He was the reason I had to grow up early, you know? Somebody had to make sure everything else wasn’t falling apart.”
“I do know. I can definitely relate to feeling like you had to grow up before you were ready.”
I sniffle and nod, turning away to hide the tear rolling down my cheek. “I know you can. Thanks for listening. I haven’t really been able to talk about it with anyone before.”
“Of course. I’ve…I’ve never really done this either. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff.”
It really is.
“Tell me something else,” he whispers.
“I’m neurodivergent,” I say quietly. “But you’ve probably already figured that out.”
He nods again, just once. “I like the way your brain works.”
“Thanks, but I need medicine for it to function effectively, and that’s not the case for everyone. Hence, the necessity of the label. I definitely have ADHD. I’m not sure if I’m on the spectrum. I think I might be, but it’s hard for adult women to get diagnosed. I guess it might not change much for me, but sometimes I think it might be nice to have confirmation.”
“Yeah, I’m learning labels can be helpful sometimes. I’m still working on finding the right words to describe myself, too. Am I allowed to ask about the meds? You don’t have to tell me.” He shifts to lean back against the tree trunk.
“It’s okay. I brought it up. I’ve been on medication since I was about sixteen. School was never an issue for me, but when I was learning how to drive, my mom was worried that my being easily distracted was too dangerous. And the pills really do seem to make a difference for me.” They make it easier to focus. I think more clearly and feel more like myself when I’m on meds. “There are some side effects, though.”
“Like what?”
I sigh. “The last time I spoke with my psychiatrist, I brought up my littleproblem. Turns out it’s pretty common. So, we’re going to try a different medicine. My other doctor also put me on an estrogen cream. Apparently, there’s also a shot some people try, but I decided not to go that far.”
“Really?” He sounds surprised. “I had no idea that was a thing. Do you feel a little better knowing there was a real medical reason?”
