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Lita’s arrival at the apartment is heralded by a click-click of boot heels. The erratic pattern makes Jerrie think of bouncing. Of course, bouncing is contagious, so she turns and bounces out of the bedroom to greet her girlfriend. As she goes, she sings under her breath, “The kangaroo hop, the kangaroo hop…”
Out in the living room, Lita has a red folder clutched to her chest. She’s standing in one place while she sheds her coat, still bouncing idly on the balls of her feet. Her eyes dart immediately to Jerrie. “Got the results! Not before damn time, either.”
Jerrie squeaks and flaps her hands. Results! Results for her Lita! Lita has been so patient, trying to get diagnosed for ADHD, but it’s been a process in the order of a few months. “What did they say? Could they see what was right in front of their eyes?”
Lita launches herself around the side of the couch and holds out her arms. “They could! Hug me, I got my diagnosis!”
Jerrie squeaks even louder. She pauses for a fraction of a second to turn inward and gauge her feelings about a hug. Finding no reluctance, she leaps into Lita’s arms. “Welcome to the ‘formally recognized by the neurotypicals’ club! We are ever-growing!”
Lita’s laugh turns into a sob. Her arms tighten around Jerrie, and she begins to rock. “Nineteen years,” she whispers. “Nineteen years I lived in this brain and never knew why I felt wrong. And I know it shouldn’t hurt, my folks are so good to me, all of them must have brains like mine because they’ve made so much space for me…”
Jerrie scoots them sideways to the couch. Even though she’s smaller than Lita, she sits down and pulls her girl into her lap. The pressure of Lita’s bottom on her thighs makes her brain light up like fireworks. That’s very good stim.
“There was never a version of me that had to wonder what I was,” she admits. “My parents had me put in a nice little box for them before I can remember. I never had to discover myself like you did. But there were still versions of me I had to grieve.”
“That’s…yeah.” Lita squeezes Jerrie close and whispers, “That’s what I’m doing, grieving all the years I didn’t know. The versions of me who felt wrong because they didn’t know. Is that…is that selfish? This should be a good thing, I should be happy…And I am, it’s just…”
“Not selfish,” Jerrie promises. She rubs her hand up and down her girlfriend’s shaking back. “You can be proud of who you are now and still sad for who you were then. Emotions are hard. It’s good to feel how hard they are.”
Lita gives a tremendous sniffle. The back of her hand scrubs across her eyes. She always hides her tears, which makes Jerrie sad for her. (Jerrie never hides her tears. She used to try, but she couldn’t even then. Now, she doesn’t bother.) “It’s not even like I’ve suffered like you have,” she mutters. “My folks have been so good to me—they’re all having reckonings of their own now, ‘cause they heard my news and are going ‘well then why does her brain make so much sense to me?’ But, anyway, point is, they’re not like your parents, who were assholes and made you feel bad about your brain…”
“They did,” Jerrie affirms. She keeps rocking Lita back and forth. “But that was better. Once I knew how awful they were, everything they told me felt awful too. I could just wave it away. But even if your parents were always good to you, the world must not have been. It can’t be. It is inadequate for neurodivergent needs. You are grieving the you who felt like the world was right and your family was wrong, which is harder.”
Lita bursts into tears and rocks herself in a desperate, erratic rhythm that doesn’t match Jerrie’s. Jerrie lets her arms fall limp to her sides. Her girl needs to soothe herself first. Then maybe she can let Jerrie soothe her.
“I’m brilliant,” Lita sobs. “I have ADHD, and I’m brilliant, and I’m brilliant because of my ADHD brain. So why do I feel so broken?”
Jerrie makes a sad little sound. “It matters that you can say that—the thing about being brilliant because of your ADHD brain. It took me longer to accept that my autism made me smart in my way. The rest of it…” She doesn’t have much comfort to offer. It took her so long to work through those feelings; stubborn spite got her to where she is today, with very little other help. “I will help you through it,” she promises. “You’re my Lita. I want to help you feel your feelings.”
Lita cries and rocks some more. Gradually, she slows down. Her arms wrap snugly around Jerrie’s shoulders; her warm, wet face burrows into Jerrie’s neck. Jerrie winces. The wet feeling is not nice.
“I love you. Please be teary somewhere that is not my neck.”
Lita gives a watery laugh. “I love you,” she echoes, and turns her face into Jerrie’s shoulder. The cloth of her pajama top takes away the worst of the watery feeling. “I love that you can do that for yourself—ask with no hesitation.”
“You do it too.” Jerrie squeezes her. It feels natural to press her lips to Lita’s temple and keep them there. “That shows pride in you. The worry about feeling how you should feel about yourself is harder, but the way you treat yourself—that’s good. That’s the biggest step.”
“I mean, I guess.” Lita swipes at her eyes again. “It doesn’t feel like much…but I guess, yeah. Respecting me in a world not set up for me…that’s pride. And I really am proud to know what I am now.” She reaches over to pet the folder, which got dropped in all the commotion. “Wouldn’t have made it through those tests if it didn’t matter to me. I don’t know how you handled them as a kid, they’d have made me cry in frustration if I didn’t know exactly what they were for.”
Jerrie shrugs. “I wish I knew. I was too young to remember. But, yes. I understand that it matters to you—I’m so proud you made them give you a word for you. So many people never get that.”
Lita’s now-mostly-dry face nuzzles against Jerrie’s cheek. Impulsively, Jerrie turns toward her. Their lips meet, exactly as she hoped.
“I love you,” Lita whispers against her lips. She gives a happy, wiggly bounce in Jerrie’s lap. “Thank you for listening to me.”
Jerrie isn’t quite sure how to answer that. Instead, she taps her fingers gently against Lita’s. “I love you too,” she says. Even for someone who doesn’t do well inflecting her voice, she thinks her tone is positively brimming with pride in her girlfriend.