Too messed up for me to help?
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?
Okay, she’s probably writing notes about some of the details we’re telling her so that she can remember them, but opening up like this is so hard for me, I can’t help but feel judged.
“Thank you,” Dr. Francine says when we finish. “That helps me understand the context. What part of your relationship would you like to discuss first?”
Gage glances at me almost guiltily, then swallows. “There’s one huge question I have.”
Dr. Francine nods. “Okay, let’s talk about it.”
Gage turns to me. “What happened at high school graduation? I mean we were kissing, and you seemed into the idea of dating me. Then when you got back from the bathroom, it was like a switch flipped.”
It takes most of my willpower to look Gage in the eye as I share these feelings with him.
“Yeah,” I say softly, "I’m really sorry about that. You’re right that before I went to the bathroom, I was all in. But I overheard a couple of girls that were supposed to be my friends talking about how surprised they were that a smart guy like you would go for a dummy like me. I felt like I was missing something that was obvious to everyone else—that you were too good for me. I didn’t want to drag you down.”
Gage’s eyes are fiery when he responds. “They said that?”
I nod. “They suggested it would only make sense if you were looking for a trophy wife.”
Gage’s face registers shock and anger.
“Gage, I can see you reacting to what Olivia shared. How are you feeling?”
Gage inhales a deep breath. “Furious,” he answers. “How could anyone say that? Especially when they’re supposed to be her fr—”
He breaks off, frustrated, and turns to me. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”
My cheeks heat. “That’s nice, Gage, but come on, you know that’s not true.”
“Like hell I do! That’s one hundred percent fact, babe.”
Dr. Francine interjects. “Olivia, why are you doubting what he’s telling you?”
“I know I’m not smart. I was lucky to get Cs through school. I wouldn’t have gone to college if it wasn’t for soccer. I couldn’t even read until fourth grade, not really.”
“And that made you feel stupid?” Dr. Francine asks.
“It’s evidence that Iamstupid.”
“She’s not stupid,” Gage cuts in, his voice tight. “She has dyslexia.”
“Aha. I see,” says Dr. Francine. “When were you diagnosed?”
“Eighth grade,” I answer.
Her eyes widen. “That’s pretty late. No one caught it before then?”
Again, Gage speaks up. “Her auditory recall is amazing. She was able to get through school up to that point by remembering what the teacher said.” He turns to me. “That’s not something a ‘dummy’ would be able to do.”
I stare at him. I didn’t realize he knew that about me, or that he had given it so much thought.
“Olivia, I’m going to send you some links to videos about dyslexia. Dyslexia is defined as an unexpected difficulty learning to read despite high intelligence. Part of how it’s diagnosed is comparing reading ability to overall IQ. I’m sorry if no one ever explained that to you.”
I nod, my head spinning. I know it should have been a big relief when I finally got my dyslexia diagnosis.At last! An explanation!But by then, I’d been called stupid by so many classmates and had so many teachers exasperated with me for not “applying” myself, even when I knew I was trying my best, I think it was hard to internalize anything else.
“Now,” says Dr. Francine, “I’d like to steer us back to the conversation around what happened at graduation. Gage, you were surprised when Olivia came back from the bathroom with what seemed like different feelings for you. And Olivia, you put up a wall because you felt inadequate after overhearing your friends’ conversation.”
