Page 73 of Quake

“Okay?” she asks, sounding shocked.

I nod. “You’ve never given me a reason not to trust you.” Besides, I’ve already decided that she deserves someone better. And since I’m entirely too selfish to ever see her with someone else, I’m taking on the task of bettering myself. Not just for her but forus.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes as I prepare to speak the words that no one has ever heard me admit.

My heart clenches in my chest, nausea roiling through me.

Lark squeezes my hand again, and my next words leave my mouth through gritted teeth.

“I think I have depression.”

That weight begins lifting off my chest the moment I’ve spoken the words into the quiet space of this car.

Lark’s thumb begins rubbing small circles across the back of my hand.

She allows me the time I need to continue speaking, not rushing to fill the silence with affirmations. Just letting mefeel.

“I don’t think it’s a secret that I’m depressed. I think anyone within a mile of me would have to be blind to not see it despite how hard I’ve tried to hide it, but it’s never something I’ve put a name to. I’ve never actually labeled it and verbally spoken those words before.”2

She leans forward, resting her head on my shoulder.

“I’m notashamedthat I’m depressed though. I’m embarrassed that I have such a privileged life with such supportive people surrounding me from every direction, and my brain is still finding ways to make me feel unappreciative. I don’t want to burden anyone. My mom and Ale have MS, Dante and Arielle are dealing with my nephew’s OCD, Rose and Charlie have to navigate male-predominant careers as lesbians, and here I am, a fucking musical prodigy with a kick-ass career playing a sport Iusedto love, and I can’t seem to dig myself out of my own thoughts.”

I take a deep breath in, filling my lungs and pushing it out through my nose to calm myself. “I’m not capable of just talking my feelings out and letting them go. I react so strongly to every fucking thing. Like when Alex came out and he was being bullied, it took everything in me not to pummel every person who so much as looked in his direction. He’d just shrug it off, perfectly content with himself, but I couldn’t do that, and with how much stigma there is in the sports community, it made it that much harder to ignore the comments.”

She kisses my shoulder and reaches forward, gripping my cheek in her palm and pulling my lips toward hers. Lark presses a soft kiss to my mouth and rests her forehead against mine. “I’m so proud of you,mon ciel étoilé.”

Her words tear me apart inside.There’s nothing to be proud of.

“Your mental health isimportant,Gianni. Yes, everyone has something to worry about, something that makes their life difficult in some way, but that is justlife.It doesn’t make your struggles any less real, and it’s no one else’s business. But it sounds like it’s something that’s been eating you up inside, and I’m here to talk about it anytime you want.”

A heaviness settles on my chest. “Before he died, he was coaching me through just that. Talking about my feelings. Alex was a wealth of wisdom. He knew me better than anyone and somehow always managed to get through to me when I was getting stuck in my own head.”

“I know it’s not the same, but I can be there for you if you decide you want that.”

Her soft-spoken words tie me up in knots. Her support means more to me than she may ever know.

“Thank you,” I choke out. A single tear falls down my cheek. She swipes it away with the pad of her thumb and kisses me again before leaning back in her seat.

“Alright, you’ve shown me yours, so I’ll show you mine.” She sighs. “The reason my mom left was because she quit taking her medication. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and would have manic episodes. As long as she took her medication, she was mostly fine, but sometimes, she’d get overwhelmed with life and forget a few doses, and things would spiral.”

My stomach drops. “I’m so sorry. Do you know what happened to her?”

“No, we don’t.” She shakes her head. “One day, we got home, and she was just gone. No note or anything. My dad hired a private investigator, but he wasn’t able to track her down. After five years of searching, he finally had to call it quits. Wherever she is, I just hope she’s gotten the help she needed and she’s living happily.”

“That sounds like a lot for a twelve-year-old to handle. How’d you manage?” I’ve been seemingly falling apart my entire life, so I’m genuinely curious how she was able to process her circumstances sowell.

She smiles at me. “My dad insisted I start therapy. He said he wanted to give me the tools I needed to handle stressful situations and to find outlets for my feelings. It’s actually why I started painting.”

Therapy. How come that always seems to be the answer for everyone?

“In high school, when I was dealing with more changes than my coping mechanisms alone could help me with, I started taking an antidepressant that helps with my anxiety too. I’ve been on it for years now, and it’s improved my quality of life more than I can express. My mom was always embarrassed about her diagnosis, so the times she’d stop taking her meds were usually surrounding girls’ trips or nights away with friends because she didn’t want them to know she struggled with mental illness.” She pauses for a moment, squeezing my hand before she continues. “My dad says she was afraid people would judge her or think she was a horrible person, but that’s just not true. When she was all there, she was the best mom I could have ever asked for. She was agoodperson, and being bipolar or struggling with any other mental health condition doesn’t make someone a bad person. We all have struggles, and they manifest in different ways, but there is no shame in asking for help. Whether that be with medication, therapy, just talking things out with friends, or a combination of it all.”

She speaks so freely about the things that have plagued me for years. These are the same things Dante tries to preach to me, but he works as a mental health professional. His opinions are biased, but hearing it from Lark eases some of my worries. Maybe itistime that I at least try some things she’s suggesting.

“How long were you seeing a therapist before you felt like it helped?”

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