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She wrinkles up her nose. “Is that what you’ve decided? That I’m going to judge you or think less of you? Because if so, that’s pretty insulting.”
“Come on, put yourself in my shoes. I’m barely keeping up with you as it is. If we throw that other thing into the mix, it’s just too much.”
“Why don’t you let me decide what’s too much for me?” Pushing off the counter she starts for the bedroom. “You know what? I should go.”
I get up and follow her. “Yeah, of course you’re going. That’s exactly what I knew you’d do if you found out.”
She spins on her heel and glares at me. “Is that why you think I’m leaving? Because I think less of you?”
“Oh, come on. Are you trying to stand there and tell me you think more of me now that you know I sometimes struggle to read even a menu?”
“My nonno can’t read and he’s one of the smartest people I know,” she says, jutting out her chin.
“Yeah, in English maybe, but in Italian, I bet he’s a total whiz.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. He had to work on their farm when he was a little boy. His mom taught him just enough to be able to go shopping and take a train. And I have nothing but respect for him. He’s also the only person in my family that understands what I do for a living. Sometimes we talk about my job for hours, and he gets it.” She picks up her overnight bag and sets it on the bed. “And the people on that joint project at NASA? Brilliant. The ones with dyslexia could totally see things I couldn’t. I was completely jealous of the way their minds work.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s how I feel about you,” I blurt out.
Her head snaps back and she stares at me.
Shaking my head, I say, “I just … see you working on things I’ll never understand and I wish I could do that too. I’d kill to have things come so easily to me.”
“None of it came easily to me. I had to work my ass off for years to learn what I know,” she says, yanking a pair of jeans out of her bag. She pulls off her pajama bottoms, giving me the best view of her toned legs before she quickly covers them up with her Levi’s.
“It’s not the same thing, Allie. And I’m not some NASA genius who can map things out in my head. I’m just … ordinary.”
She scoffs. “Says one of the most successful, famous actors in the world. You’re anything but ordinary.” She pauses and gives me a piercing look. “You know, you’ve talked a lot about how I should learn to overcome my insecurities, but it seems to me like you should be taking your own advice.”
“It’s different.”
“It’s really not,” she answers. “We’re exactly alike—using our insecurities as an excuse not to let someone in.”
“I have let you in.”
“But only so far, right?” She gives me a sharp glare. “Maybe I’m completely naive, but after everything we’ve told each other and all the things we’ve done, I thought we were a lot closer than this.”
Oh fuck. I’m about to lose her. “We are closer. I’m closer to you than I’ve ever been to any woman in my life.” I walk over to her and take both her hands in mine. “I promise. I’ve never let someone in like this before.”
“I don’t think this is how relationships work,” she says softly. “You have to let the person in all the way.”
I let go of her hands, my palms sweaty and my gut twisting. I walk over to the bed and sit down, rubbing the back of my neck. “I know what you’re asking doesn’t sound like much, but it feels enormous to me. My whole life, I’ve just been so ashamed.”
She drops to her knees in front of me and places her hands on my thighs. “But why? So many successful people have dyslexia—Tom Cruise, Keanu Reeves. Nobody thinks less of them.”
Everything in me is shouting for me to shut this conversation down. It’s too much. I can’t do it. I won’t. But when I stare into her deep brown eyes, I can see what I’m pretty sure is love staring back at me.
She gives me a hopeful smile and whispers, “It’s okay.”
I get a lump in my throat, knowing in my heart that she means it. She’s going to accept me for me. I take a deep breath and I start to talk. For the first time in my life, I talk about it with someone who isn’t my brother. “My parents moved us to New York when I was three and Gersh was five. My dad had gotten a job as the principal of a fancy boarding school—kindergarten through senior year. The kind of place only the most elite of the elite can afford to send their kids to. At the time, they didn’t know about my affliction. Coming from a hick town in Nebraska already put my dad as an outsider from the start. He needed everything to be perfect in order to prove he could measure up to what they wanted—including my brother and me. Only I didn’t measure up. I wasn’t learning. Wasn’t hitting all the milestones, whereas Gersh was always ahead. Reading at a fifth-grade level in second grade.” I pause and shake my head. “He’d go on and on about his oldest son. He’s going to be a lawyer or a doctor someday. But with me? He’d say nothing. In first grade, my mom was tasked with ‘fixing me.’ We’d practice sight words all evening, every evening. All summer too. When all the other kids were out playing, I’d be at the kitchen table trying to memorize every word we’d learn the following year, so I wouldn’t embarrass the family.”
“Oh, Hudson,” she says. “I’m so sorry. That sounds awful.”
“It wasn’t great.” I glance at the floor, emotions swelling in my chest that I’d rather not feel. “By the time I was in seventh grade, I couldn’t take it anymore. I started to rebel and became the class clown. I spent half of my time in my dad’s office, which drove a wedge into our relationship. But the truth is, he would have been embarrassed by me either way, because by the time I was a sophomore, I was so far behind, there was no catching up.”
“But none of this makes you stupid, Hudson.”
I clench my jaw, then say, “It doesn’t exactly make me smart.”
