Page 87 of Summer Breakdown
“I want to be better at talking to you,” Frankie says. “I know you’ve read books on being bipolar, and I can’t explain how much I appreciate it. I want to tell you things too.”
It felt easy saying it, but the terror swims in her stomach all the same. Frankie thinks it’s rude that she’s anxious about being thrown to the curb when she’s never even talked to anyone about it before. Why does her mind always think the worst will happen, when she’s never done it? Ezra was therewhen she was diagnosed. Cam found out as she did. She’s never had to talk about it before. Not for real. Not outside of a therapist’s office. Not to someone who could leave.
“Okay,” Jasmine replies. “I’d like that.” Her posture remains the same, her hands behind her back as she leans against the door. She’s open, how she always is. Frankie wants to tell her anything.
“I’ve been diagnosed for a while,” she says. “Uhm, like, fourteen years. It’s type two, and I’m medicated.” Jasmine nods, and Frankie pulls on her lip. “Day to day, my life is the same as most people’s. I just take some pills in the morning and have a little more structure.”
Jasmine hums, her head tilting in question. She wants more.
Frankie takes a deep breath. “But it does make me question everything. Mainly relationships. It takes me a while to figure out if I’m happy because it’s true or if it’s an episode. I haven’t had a big one since I was diagnosed, but it’s always a worry because I feel like I’m not in control. I wait for everything, even if I’m desperate for it, because I want to be sure it’s real and not something my mind is making up.”
“Is that why you like to be asked things?”
Frankie frowns. She never thought about it like that. “Maybe. I never thought about it until you started doing it. Then I know you want to know, or you want me to do something. I don’t have to worry that you don’t.”
“Okay.”
“I know that’s a lot, though. I know I have to ask for things too.”
Jasmine smiles at her. “Well, now I know it’s not a big deal.”
Frankie knows she’s hard to love. That she makes it difficult for even the simplest of things. “It’s not?”
“Nah. If I know you want me to ask, that’s enough for me.”
Frankie believes her, truly and honestly. “My anxiety doesn’t bleed into work that much. So, it’s difficult to explain why I can or can’t do things when I’m fine there. It’s justdifferent for me. At work, if I didn’t do something, nothing catastrophic would happen. I think of it like a quest. I have to do x, y, and z, or no one in the team moves on. Everything outside of that is a choice. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
Jasmine smiles. “It does.”
“I’m having trouble with my new doctor right now,” she says. “He’s not taking my illness seriously because I’m doing well at work.” It feels good to talk about. Being Black and needing medical help is a trauma in itself. “I don’t know if it’s just that or because I’m Black, or gay, or a woman, but every time I tell him something, he looks at me like I’m crazy, which is the entire reason I’m there. It stresses me out that there are so many factors that could be attributing to why he’s being difficult, and I’ll never know which is true.”
Jasmine frowns. “Do you need a new doctor?”
“Probably.” Frankie sighs. “He wants me on new pills, but they’re not as strong. It’s like he wants to see if I’m telling the truth, even though I have a decade of medical notes. It’s like there’s a thrill to him seeing me breakdown. But it took so long to get this appointment. I don’t think I have time before my pills run out to start again.”
“You can see the family doctor,” Jasmine says casually. “They’ll get you in this week.”
“They will?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“You don’t have to wait to join because the family already goes,” Jasmine says, as if Frankie is family. “Lani has an appointment on Monday; we can go with her. Her doctor’s not a specialist in mental illness, but she’s kind, and she’ll figure something out. She’s also Black.”
Frankie smiles. She wasn’t anticipating Jasmine fixing it—she just wanted to tell her—but the idea that she cares enough about her to have a solution makes her chest feel tight.
Frankie takes a deep breath. It’s not just Jasmine that she has to look out for. “I’m not dangerous or anything.”
Jasmine frowns. “I didn’t think that.”
“What do you think?”
Jasmine smiles, holding her hand out in front of her, and Frankie takes it without blinking. “I think you’re brave for telling me. I think I like you.”
Frankie smiles brightly, and Jasmine watches her mouth move. Her voice is low when she speaks again. “I think I want you to kiss me.”
Frankie moves the moment the words leave her lips. Jasmine sighs as Frankie pushes her against the door, and gasps when she pulls her against her. It’s slow, a little messy, and the most alive Frankie has ever felt. Jasmine whimpers when Frankie traces her lip with her tongue, her hands fisted in her top pulling her even closer. Frankie slides her knee between Jasmine’s in a desperate attempt to touch her everywhere.
