Page 94 of When Lemons Give You Life

The shame isn’t just in wanting that, it’s in realizing how much of my self-worth depended on it. Somewhere along the line, I made his approval the proof that I was enough. I used to brush it off. Pretend it didn’t matter. But it mattered so much that a single look from him could break me. I know now that my ADHD amplifies rejection into something so painful it doesn’t just hurt, it hijacks my whole body. Kids constantly seek approval from their parents, and when my dad left I think part of me handed that role to Griff without even noticing.

The realization lands with a strange kind of calm. No thunderclap. Just silence, and a soft, steady truth I can’t ignore anymore. If anyone’s going to validate me and change my life, it won’t be Griff. And it can’t be Frank.

It has to be me.

I get up. Rinse my cold tea down the sink. My hands are still shaking, but I don’t sit. Instead, hot with a rush of hyperfocus, I grab my phone and download Dubbii, a body-doubling app I keep hearing about online, to help people with ADHD manage boring tasks. I sign up and head to my “will never do” pile and start sorting. Bin. Keep. Action. My version of triage.

I find the Medicare envelope I’ve been ignoring, and the pathology form from my last consult. I take a deep breath, pick up a pen, and write the date of my next scan on the fridge calendar. In ink. I finally make an appointment to see the psychologist Helen has been recommending. Grabbing a Post-it note, I scrawl, “You are not too much,” and stick it to my bathroom mirror.

It’s not everything, but it’s a beginning. I don’t feel transformed, exactly, but I feel honest. As though maybe if I quit trying to fit myself into a box I’m too damn sparkly for anyway, I’ll finally make space to be who I am.

For once, I’m not waiting for anyone else.

By the time Frank arrives, my hands have stopped shaking. He holds up a tub of ice cream, the quiet kind of offering you bring when you know someone’s been gutted from the inside out.

Frank pops the lid off the mint-choc-chip, passes me a spoon and takes one for himself. “So you think your brother refused to donate?”

“There’s no other explanation,” I say, taking a seat at the table beside him. “Griff got tested. Said he wasn’t a match. And then he left for a fancy job in Paris. Mum was on her deathbed, and he just . . . vanished.”

“That’s unbelievable!”

“He looked me in the eye and lied.” I flick away a tear. “I had to handle everything alone. The hospital visits, palliative care, funeral arrangements . . .”

“Do you think your mum knew?”

I hesitate. “I’ve been asking myself that over and over. She told me herself that he wasn’t a match. She either didn’t know, or she was trying to protect him. But I think he must’ve lied to her as well. I think he left and never looked back.” I reach for Frank’s hand. “I can’t bear the thought of her knowing and thinking he gave up on her.”

Frank stands and begins pacing. “And now you can’t even ask him. That’s—” He shakes his spoon in the air. “That’s infuriating!”

I’m moved by how mad he is on my behalf; how connected our lives have become. “I want to scream at him,” I say. “Ask him why. But what would be the point? There’s no way he could understand. This is the final straw, though. I’ve decided to stop visiting him. I’m done.”

Frank nods. “To be honest, I always thought it was amazing that you kept visiting in the first place. After how he treated you growing up, why put yourself through it?”

I press my palms against the tub and don’t say anything for a long moment. “Because I was still chasing his approval. And it wasn’t just him. I’m not innocent in all this.”

Frank looks at me, puzzled.

“I kissed Beau,” I say. “At their engagement party. I was drunk. Stupid. He was beautiful, and kind, and nothing like Griff. And I think I just . . . wanted to matter to someone, because Griff didn’t seem to give a damn about me.” I hug my knees and bury my face. “But it wasn’t the worst part. It was everything I said to Griff that night. I tore him to pieces, in front of all of his friends. I humiliated him. I wanted to make him hurt like I was hurting, and I did.” The words catch in my throat. “Am I the worst person in the world?”

Frank’s voice goes quiet. “Were you in love with Beau?”

“I adored him, but I don’t know if I was ever really in love with him. I knew he was gay and out of reach, of course. I couldn’t stand the thought of Griff pushing Beau away like he did my dad or making him feel small like he made me.”

The pacing stops, and I dare to peek at him. His face is red. “I can’t say I’m not jealous, even though Beau’s dead. I do understand that it’s possible to fall in love with anyone, though, whether they are attainable or not. I spent my teen years in love with Tina Turner!”

I narrow my eyes in mock jealousy. “I’ll delete her from all my playlists!”

We each take a big spoonful of ice cream.

“So what happened after the party?” he asks, sitting back down.

“I tried to apologize, to reach out, but Griff stopped speaking to me. Eventually I was able to be friends with Beau again, but it was never quite the same.” I pause. “It was only when Beau began showing signs of dementia that I came back into Griff’s life, though he wasn’t happy about it. No one should have to deal with that on their own.”

“You and your big heart.” Frank brushes my cheek. “So you went back?”

I nod. “Griff even tolerated having me for dinner once or twice, but that was more for Beau’s sake than mine. Then there was the awful food-poisoning incident. I tried to help where I could.”

Frank doesn’t speak.