When Tomorrow Comes, page 17
Chapter Seventeen
I don’t have to tell you that this is a very unusual situation,” Dr. Sylvia Hanson said. “I’ve worked with many clients diagnosed with ADHD, and several with varying degrees of autism spectrum disorder, or ASD, but never a couple who wanted to be treated together.”
Teague nodded. She was aware they would be a notable case study. But she’d been a patient of Dr. Hansen’s since she was a child and trusted her. “Some aspects of the two disorders manifest in totally opposite symptoms, but many of the suggested coping mechanisms are the same,” she said.
“That’s true,” Dr. Hansen said. “Both of your disabilities—and they are classified as such under the American Disabilities Act—have been shown to benefit from adherence to a regular schedule and exercise. But there also are some radical differences in your symptoms. While Teague tends to hyper-focus on certain things, Baye finds it difficult to stay focused.”
Baye had been reticent about therapy, and Teague worried she might leave the session if the doctor spent too much time talking about why this relationship might not work.
“We’re hoping that our love and strong desire to please each other will help us find some middle ground,” Baye said.
“That’s the goal. Your desire not to let the other person down can be a very strong motivator. And support is vital.”
When Baye reached for Teague’s hand and held it firmly, Teague realized she’d been touching her thumb to each fingertip in a repetitive motion to calm her nerves. Was Baye holding her hand to reassure her or because the action was bothering her? No matter the reason, she gave Baye’s fingers an affirming squeeze. They could do this.
Dr. Hanson gestured to their hands. “Just the fact that Teague tolerates you holding her hand is evidence your relationship has overcome her aversion to being touched.” She held up a finger. “But you need to be aware of some real pitfalls in this venture. Baye’s ADHD means she can tend to overreact emotionally, while Teague’s ASD makes it difficult to express her emotions or recognize someone else’s emotional crisis. Also, Teague can be overly sensitive to sound, smells, and general chaotic situations. People with ADHD tend to be grandiose—loud and chaotic—in their enthusiasm or when expressing displeasure, which could overwhelm someone with ASD and trigger a meltdown.”
“We’ve both witnessed each other’s meltdowns, and my need to comfort her pulled me right out of mine,” Baye said.
“We have also survived a meltdown at each other,” Teague added. “Knowing that our disabilities aggravated our disagreement made it possible for us to talk it out after a cool-down period.”
“That’s good, very good. But be aware that if you begin residing together, many more of these instances will come up, even over tiny differences. For example, Baye brushes her teeth but doesn’t replace the cap on the toothpaste or rinse the sink after spitting her toothpaste into it,” she said to Teague. “This bothers you, so you replace the cap on the toothpaste, then rinse the sink for her. Baye has wakened that morning feeling agitated for no explicable reason—because this happens sometimes for people with ADHD—and perceives your action as constant correction. She overreacts with explosive anger, yelling and using foul language. You may curl up in a ball to try to shut out her display or try to calm yourself with a repetitive motion, which agitates her even more.”
Baye’s face darkened. “You make it sound like I’m the reason you think this won’t work.”
“Not at all. Let’s try a different scenario, Baye. In the surveys I asked both of you to fill out before meeting today, Teague mentioned she would like to design and install a chemical-free, environmentally friendly, waste-disposal system for the rescue center, so she becomes hyper-focused on this task. You’re feeling irritable and jumpy. You tell her how you’re feeling, but she is fixated on explaining her research regarding this disposal project. The technical aspects of the project make your eyes glaze over, but she can’t redirect herself and insists that you should listen because she wants your input. You need her to back down and understand, but her disability keeps her from recognizing your escalating emotional state and concentrating on something else. She pushes you into a meltdown but doesn’t realize she hasn’t been listening to you and is the catalyst for your distress.”
They were quiet. Both knew this could happen. Baye’s thigh next to hers tensed, and her grip on Teague’s hand loosened. Anxious that Baye might stand and leave the session, Teague began to slightly rock. The silence as Dr. Hansen watched them was loud, then deafening as the seconds ticked away. Teague’s anxiety and rocking intensified until Dr. Hansen finally spoke again.
“So, what can we do? We can talk about ways to deescalate or even avoid this type of situation, but only if both of you are fully committed to making your relationship work.”
When Baye slipped behind her on the sofa and wrapped her in a tight hug, Teague stilled and closed her eyes. “I know being with me can be difficult. My parents struggled with it. Connie has been the only one to understand…to stay with me.” She placed her hands over Baye’s arms, encouraging her hug. “Maybe I’m asking too much,” she said.
“I could say the same, sweetheart. I’m so scared of disappointing you, terrified of hurting you,” Baye said. “I’ve never seriously tried to manage my ADHD because I honestly enjoy the high from Adderall and self-medicating with marijuana. I hate the heavy mood-changing drugs doctors prescribe to even me out. My creativity goes silent when I’m on them. But I want to try if it means I can be with you. I love you, and I think we understand each other in a way no others can.” She buried her face in Teague’s neck and repeated. “I want to try more than anything.”
Teague relaxed. “I want to try, too, because I want you to stay.”
Dr. Hansen smiled. “Good. Although you might think I’ve been trying to dissuade you by pointing out how difficult this can be, I was only gauging your commitment to making this work. You have shown me today that you are determined and have an unusual connection. So, I’m very optimistic and hopeful I can help you both.”
* * *
Their bond felt deeper, stronger when they made love that night. They took their time, listening to their hearts as much as their bodies. Baye marveled again at Teague’s transformation from her stiff and awkward girlfriend into her skilled, attentive lover. She was like a flower that bloomed when they touched skin-on-skin and caressed each other intimately. She gave herself wholly to Baye, then explored Baye’s body with a confidence and enthusiasm that left her limp and panting from multiple orgasms.
Dr. Hansen’s frank evaluation and assurance that their opposites-attract relationship could be successful had certainly fueled their connection and assuaged Baye’s reticence about therapy. She was honest about her relationship with drugs. She refused to take the mood-altering drugs doctors had previously prescribed because they made her sluggish, and she sometimes abused Adderall because she liked the energy it gave her. She also habitually self-medicated by vaping cannabis. Dr. Hansen warned that she would not tolerate abuse of her Adderall prescription but promised she wouldn’t prescribe the other drugs she disliked. People with ADHD were almost eight times more likely to use cannabis compared to those who didn’t suffer from ADHD, she said. Those who did, however, often used the wrong strain. She gave her a prescription for a sativas strain of cannabis that had been shown to help mental conditions such as depression and ADHD. Dr. Hansen’s willingness to work with her on a drug protocol lowered a huge hurdle for Baye.
When Baye spooned against the warmth of Teague’s back, Teague guided her arm forward to tuck Baye’s hand against her ribs, and their love settled over them like a blanket.
Yes. They could do this.
Chapter Eighteen
Why do you brush your teeth before breakfast?” Teague struggled with Baye’s morning routine, or lack of it. She sometimes showered before bed, and at other times, she showered in the mornings.
Baye rinsed her mouth, then gave Teague a minty kiss. “So I can do this.”
“Oh. Okay.” She couldn’t argue with a kiss. The love and acceptance she absorbed from Baye was like nothing she’d felt before. Connie grounded her. She was her security, the mother figure who always had her back. Baye was a force that was widening her vision, at her side, and holding her hand as her world expanded with more real friends—Tommy, John, Libby, and maybe TJ. She could reach for Connie when she needed her, but Baye was a constant, comforting presence she could feel at the edge of her consciousness.
At Dr. Hansen’s suggestion, Connie had explained to Baye some of Teague’s peculiarities so she wouldn’t stumble over them later. Libby, in turn, talked to Teague about some of the ADHD symptoms she could expect to encounter living with Baye. They also met with Dr. Hansen weekly to discuss their progress and attempt to anticipate future obstacles.
Connie smiled and placed Teague’s ham-and-cheese omelet in front of her, along with a bowl containing four pieces of cantaloupe and three strawberries. “What would you like this morning, Baye?”
“I don’t want to be any trouble. I can just have what Teague is having.”
“Pretty, Pretty!” Mac called from the sunroom when he heard Baye’s voice.
“Nonsense,” Connie said, ignoring Mac’s calls. “She might eat that every day for the next year, until she wakes up one morning and decides she wants a waffle. Then she’ll eat that for the next year or more. You’ll have to learn to ignore her repetitive habits and ask for what you want. Now, what do you want for breakfast?”
“Would a waffle with strawberries and whipped cream be too much trouble?”
“Not at all. In fact, that sounds so good, I think I’ll have the same.” She turned away to pull out her waffle iron and began gathering ingredients.
Teague poured coffee for each of them, then cut her omelet into sixteen precise pieces. “What are your plans for today?” she asked Baye.
“After I do my yoga, I’m going to work on the mural I’m painting in the cathouse between appointments with potential adopters. We have a family who lost their pit bull to old age and want to adopt another, a woman who is looking for a cat to keep her widowed mother company, and a young couple bringing their seven-year-old son to pick out his first dog.”
“Your work must be so rewarding,” Connie said. She placed a beautiful waffle in front of Baye and poured batter into the waffle iron for herself.
“It is. But it can be heartbreaking, too, when someone dumps off their ten-year-old dog because it’s too old and has a medical problem they don’t want to deal with, or we get an animal because their owner has died or lost their job so they can’t afford to keep it any longer.” She offered a bite of her waffle to Teague, who shook her head. “What’s on your schedule today, sweetie?”
“I have a Zoom meeting this morning with the team that is developing a material with the density and tensile strength to withstand the heat of self-sustaining fusion when only centimeters thick,” Teague said.
“I thought they were the people you spoke with in the middle of the night last week.”
“No. Those people were in Japan. They are exploring alternative power sources to fusion. After the meeting, I will spend the afternoon calculating the possible mathematics of fusion power required to lift a small city—envision the Enterprise spaceship—past the earth’s gravitational pull.” Teague had learned to use fictional illustrations to help Connie and Baye better understand her work.
Baye patted her hand. “I’ll wait for the movie.”
Teague frowned. “We are not making a movie.”
“It’s an expression, dear,” Connie said, smiling fondly at them. “It means the concept is too complicated for us to imagine, so we’ll wait until it’s a reality we can see.”
Teague had come to understand that her work was too complicated for most to comprehend. She didn’t mind, though, because she was happy enough to wage conversations and debate theories in her own head.
“You have time for your morning run before your meeting, right?” Baye gave her a pointed stare.
“Yes, dear,” Teague said, giving her a quick kiss. “That is why I am wearing my running shorts.”
“Good. Because Dr. Hansen said exercise is important for both of us, and I’ve noticed you’re doing a lot less of that finger-tapping thing than you used to.”
Connie pulled a small pillbox from the pocket of her apron and handed it to Baye. “And here’s your morning medicine.” They’d agreed to make Connie the dispenser of Baye’s medicine so she didn’t have to struggle with the temptation to abuse it.
“I’m feeling pretty good this morning. I might not need it.”
“Dr. Hansen said you should take it every day at about the same time no matter how you feel,” Teague said.
“Yes, dear.” Baye teasingly mocked Teague’s earlier phrase.
Connie and Baye laughed, and Teague managed a small smile. Laughter directed at her would normally throw her into a state of agitation, but she didn’t mind their gentle teasing because she had learned it was not ridicule. Yes. She was growing now, rather than hiding from social interaction. And it felt good. Almost good enough to forget she would not live out the year.
* * *
“How’s it going?” Baye breezed into the farmhouse, still wearing her yoga pants and T-shirt. She felt good. Really good. Even though Dr. Hansen had slightly reduced her dosage of the medical cannabis, she still felt calm and clear-headed. She did miss sitting on the porch and vaping cannabis in the evening, but she and Teague had added a stroll around their properties each night that she found nearly as relaxing.
Libby and TJ looked up from their laptops, and both of them smiled.
“Pretty good,” Libby said. “Our adoption numbers have nearly tripled this month since TJ has been keeping up with the applications and responding right away. She’s doing a good job keeping the website current, too.”
“I’ve got the numbers from the Find Your Best Friend weekend you arranged at the new dog park. We adopted out ten dogs and almost two dozen cats and kittens at the event, then five more the following week to people who went to the event, but waited for one reason or another to adopt,” TJ said. “We actually have some empty dog runs for the first time this summer.”
“That is so awesome. I think we have a winning team now,” Baye said.
“Aren’t you all sunshine today,” Libby said. The comment held no hint of her cousin’s usual sarcasm.
“So are you,” Baye shot back.
“Libby has a boyfriend,” TJ said.
Baye slapped her hand to her chest in dramatic surprise. “Tell me everything.”
Libby flushed pink but smiled. “Remember the guy who came here two weeks ago, looking to adopt a pit bull?”
TJ cackled with laughter. “He went home with two chihuahuas and Libby’s phone number.”
“His name is Martin, and we’ve had two great dates. He’s super sweet,” Libby said.
“And—” Baye prodded for more.
“And a really good kisser.”
TJ hooted, and Baye rounded the table to give her cousin a hug. “You look happy. I hope it works out.”
“Me, too,” Libby said, returning her hug. “Teague has been good for you, too.” She kissed Baye’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re doing so much better.”
“Looks like we’re both doing better,” she said.
This was true. Libby had lost her usual scowl and air of tension since their rescue center began to thrive.
The addition of Tommy had eased their worries about John lifting heavy things or handling overly energetic animals. Tommy was flourishing under John’s gentle guidance, and John smiled a lot more since Tommy began living with him.
TJ also had been an excellent hire. They had taken over the work Baye had struggled with, which left her free to work where she excelled—event planning and meeting with adopters. Baye enjoyed talking with people as much as Teague avoided it. And event planning was her jam. She explained to Libby that she was able to overcome her short attention span by breaking down the planning into smaller bits—securing a location, food, entertainment, transportation logistics, and volunteer assignments. Also, Dr. Hansen encouraged her to make lists so she could circle back to tasks she left incomplete because of some distraction like an unrelated phone call. The chaos that had been her life was fading.
“Are you going to do anything with Teague’s spreadsheets?” TJ asked.
And her bubble of happiness burst.
Teague couldn’t die. She was Baye’s lifeline, and they were just getting on their feet individually and relationship-wise. What’s more, Baye loved all of Teague’s animals, right down to the weird chicken with feathers on her feet. She didn’t want to give any of them away.
“I’ve got a full schedule today. I’ll take a look at them with you tomorrow.” But she knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
“Baye,” Libby said gently. “Teague is paying us to rehome her pets. It’s been two months, and you haven’t placed even one. At some point, she’s going to want to see some progress.”
“I know.” Damn. Her day had just gone from wonderful to the pits of despair. Her throat tightened as she looked up at Libby. “It’s stupid anyway. She’s not going to die. She just thinks she is.” She straightened her shoulders. “Maybe I’ll tell her to keep her money and stop her crazy obsession with a ridiculous family curse. I’ll talk to Dr. Hansen and see if she can convince her it’s not going to happen.”
“I hope you’re right, honey, but TJ’s salary comes out of the money she’s paying us. Heavy Petting is doing a lot better financially, but I’m not sure we can afford to keep paying TJ if you void our contract with Teague.”
