Gio

"I'm... just going to go play with the kids outside. I'll leave you two alone to talk," Chiara says quietly.

She quickly collects Angela from her bedroom, opens the sliding door, and slips into the backyard to play ball with Tony. Soon, loud peels of young laughter waft in through the door, contrasting starkly with the deafening silence surrounding Ren and me, while what I said still hangs untouched in the air.

"Bipolar?" The question falls softly from Ren's lips, breaking the silence—but it seems more of a question to herself than to me.

What is she thinking? Am I a freak to her now? The beats of my heart keep ramping up.

"Yes," I answer low, still looking down at my hands. I just can't bear to check if she has a horrified look on her face. But then I feel her eyes on me, and I raise mine slowly.

"Really?" she says, making eye contact. "I mean... you're sure?"

Fuck! Am I SURE?

"Yes, Ren, I'm pretty fucking sure! Christ!" I spit. I see her face fall and go red and bury my head in my hands. God, I'm such a jerk.

"Gio, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that," she retracts, adjusting the hem of her skirt. "I guess... um, I don't know what to say."

I don't know what to say either. Ren's whole idea of who I am is probably blowing apart. She thinks I'm damaged goods now. Fuck. She's probably looking at me like I'm on the clearance rack with a sticker on my forehead that says... 'As Is.'

But then she scoots closer to me—the grey leather sofa squeaks as it clings to the skin of her thighs, and she places her hand on my shoulder. I flinch at her touch at first; it feels like pity, but then she leans into my body, giving me her support, and I can't help but relax into it; the warmth of our bodies connecting in this way feels... too good.

But soon, the uneasy silence still snakes around me again. I turn my head slightly and peek up past my wrist to check her expression. My eyes cut into her— searching for her feelings, but I can't decipher a damn thing. Say something, Bella, I beg her with my stare.

An onslaught of thoughts rush into my mind, and I can barely pick them apart: She's going to judge everything I do now. Why did I think I could have a normal relationship? It's only a matter of time till it happens again. What if she leaves me? And we just signed that lease together! I can't afford that on my own. Why'd I get our hopes up that we'd actually move in together? I'm an idiot and a coward for not telling her sooner. Fuck. It was so good while it lasted.

She removes her hand from my shoulder and places it gently on my forearm. "I, um, well... can you tell me about it? I've heard my mom mention it, but I don't really know... very much."

Sighing, I pull my hands down from my head. I let my elbows drop to my thighs and pick nervously at my thumbnail. "I'm actually what's called type II, and it means... from time to time, I get depressed. Like, really depressed. I know I've told you some of that already, but the flip side is, sometimes I feel... really good, but I don't act like myself, either." I shoot her another look to check in and she looks nervously concerned but not freaked out. Not yet, anyway.

"Oh? Okay..." is all she says, so I feel the need to keep going.

"I mean, I don't get full-blown manic where you have to go to the hospital or anything," I assure her. "I just feel like... amazing!" I widen my eyes for emphasis. "Like super energized and creative. I just want to do everything—achieve all my goals all at once. And I actually have the energy to do it."

"Is that a bad thing?" She laughs uncomfortably.

"It can be," I grimace. "I forget to go to sleep—or spring out of bed after just a few hours. I can be impulsive, especially with money. Make bad choices. I didn't always notice I was acting strange, but my sister says it was obvious when I was in the thick of it. Well, especially once we knew more about it. The depression was... fairly obvious to spot for everyone."

She hugs her arms around herself. "Oh, and, like, that happens a lot?"

"No... not anymore. I'm on medication for it now. But before I was diagnosed, and we didn't know that's what it was—yeah, definitely." I wince as a few unpleasant memories flash through my brain—a few involving Bryce.

I veer away from those. "Like, in high school, they put me on antidepressants to treat it, which worked when I was fifteen, but it definitely did not help the situation when I got a little older. I started rapid cycling. Everyone thought I was just being an out-of-control moody teenager—well, until your dad found me on the street downtown on drugs with scars up my arm."

Ren winces at that, then after a moment asks, "What causes it?"

The crease forms between my eyes, and I scratch at my hairline. "Uh... genes? I was born with it."

She moves her hand to take hold of mine, and a rush of hope runs down my spine.

"Sorry." She grimaces. "What I meant was, what brings it on? How does it start?"

"Oh. Um, it can happen anytime, I guess, but the worst ones seem to have come in times of stress and sudden change."

She rubs the back of my hand with her thumb. "Like when your mom died?"

"Yeah, and when she first got diagnosed," I mumble.

"What did she have? What happened?"

"Um, Lymphoma. She hid it from us for a while, and it scared the shit out of me when she finally told us. She didn't have health insurance, so she just went to her naturopath friend. Kiki and I were so mad, but what could we do? I dropped out of community college and took over her business. I tried to help her out, but..."

A painful lump rising in my throat stops me from speaking, and Bella holds my hand a little tighter.

I hang my head. "I ended up being a burden to her instead."

A moment passes as I try to gather myself enough to continue. I clear my throat and go on.

"I was drinking and smoking weed all the time—self-medicating, they called it. I got a DUI, and I lost a big job we were counting on 'cause for weeks, most days... I just couldn't get out of bed. Kiki was pregnant. Ben was working in another state... it was a goddamn, fucking nightmare!" I choke out. The sharp lump in my throat is back as tears threaten to crest my eyes. I'm about to lose it. Fuck!

"Oh, Gio," she whispers.

I pull my hand from hers and turn my head away to the window, wiping my eyes. My quickened pulse beats strongly in my neck. She puts her arm around my waist and waits for me to continue. But I don't know if I want to.

"Fuck me," I breathe after a minute, pulling myself together and wiping my damn eyes again with my thumb. "Sure you want to keep hearing about this?"

She nods. Damn it. But if I just get it out, it'll be over.

I take a deep breath. "Okay, well, a few years went by. I was back living at her house, in my old room, getting through it, taking care of her. Making her meals and helping her move around the house. Ummmm."

Fuck, fuck, FUCK. I hate crying!

I pause, again looking up, trying desperately to hold it in. My voice wavers momentarily as I continue, "She passed... and within a month—Ben just sold the house from under me! I spiraled—I didn't have anywhere to fucking go!"

Ren's eyes go wide. "What? I can't believe your brother did that!"

"Don't get me started," I huff, looking down. "Anyway, I went manic. I took my portion of the money from the house, bought my Corvette, rented a fancy apartment and a stash of drugs. I went out parting every night and then crashed. I shut everyone out and didn't really leave that apartment for over a month." I tense at the memory. "I don't even want to tell you about what I went through. People were pounding on the door, shouting I was going to get evicted, and I didn't care. I didn't even care to get up and eat most days."

Her face has gone slack, and her breathing is shallow. Shit. I really shocked her with that one.

"How did it get better?" she asks in a near whisper.

"Kiki found me."

Actually, Bryce found me first and got my sister to come, but I don't want to tell Ren that.

"She didn't know what to do. I wouldn't let her call anyone else but your dad. He and your mom got me to get real treatment from a guy who really knows his shit, and now I've been doing great," I say, finally meeting her eyes—the green melting into the blue beautifully, and it's one of those moments when I really feel like she sees me.

"I've been really stable now for a long time. It's been almost four years since I've had an episode or really even been depressed at all," I smile slightly and finally sense a bit of relief from Ren as she breathes out and her shoulders relax.

"That's great. So you're on medication for it?"

"I take mood stabilizers. I also try not to drink too much—as you know. I haven't smoked pot in years. I exercise almost every day. I try not to stay up late and eat regularly—all those things help, as well as taking my medication. But last year, I was just feeling really flat all the time. No highs, no lows. It didn't really feel good, either. So, we tried a lower dose. I was nervous, but I felt a lot better. Everything was going great... and then you showed up," I glance up at Bella.

"Oh," she says, her voice low and eyebrows bowing up.

A small smile quirks at the corners of my mouth. She's so damn cute.

"It's okay," I smile more fully now, scratching at the stubble on my jaw. "I was just worried you were upsetting the balance I worked so hard to get in my life. I got scared because I felt... so intensely good again. I hadn't felt that way in... well, a really long time. And then your birthday... that night in the club? I freaked. I decided we were better off apart. I was trying to protect myself... and you. I didn't want to burden you with all my shit."

She raises her eyes to meet mine again. "So, is bipolar why you were so all over the map emotionally at first?"

"No! That's not what bipolar's like!" I snap, though I didn't mean to. Then I lower my voice, "Not for me anyway."

My emotional storm clouds have pulled in again. I stand up, leaving Ren on the sofa, and walk to the window, watching the kids play outside. Ugh! This is what I was worried about—how she'd view me and my moods now. I'm not going to just be Gio anymore. I'm going to be bipolar Gio—seen through a different lens than before... and usually not an accurate one.

Then I heave a huge sigh and turn around. "Look, people always think it's like rapid mood swings or just moodiness in general, and honestly, that's the biggest reason I haven't told you yet."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows raise along with her voice. "Well, when were you planning on telling me? After we moved in together? This is kind of a big part of your life, Gio!"

"I know. I should have told you earlier," I concede sincerely, sinking my hands in my pockets. "I tried to tell you a few times. It's just..." I pause, searching her eyes again. My chest feels tight as I'm about to expose the truth of why I've been so afraid of our relationship in general.

"What?" She asks softer this time.

"Because anytime I've ever told a girl I'm bipolar, any time we have an argument or any mood swing I have, they just blame it on my diagnosis. Even friends and family sometimes. It's like they use it against me. I'm the one that's being unreasonable. I'm the one that's fucked-up," I grit, gesturing at myself with my hands. "And after a while," I huff, crossing my arms. "I realized having a girlfriend was more painful than it was worth."

"Oh," she mumbles, sinking into the sofa. I sigh and grab an ottoman, dragging it across the carpet to a stop in front of her. Stepping over her legs, I plop down in front of her, our thighs interlocking, and take up her hands.

"Look, Bella, it... it just hurts when people I'm close to keep thinking I'm relapsing whenever I get really excited about something. But I'm not. I'm just being a human. Like after my birthday? You don't know how often Adam kept asking me if I was okay. I was just high off being together with you again, and it worried the shit out of him."

Bella looks at me with big glittering eyes, her mouth turned down. I can feel the love but also the worry pouring out of her.

"I'll admit I feel... nervous, now that you know," I continue, my eyes flicking back and forth between hers. "I feel... I feel like I'm handing over all the tools for you to hurt me, and I'm just trusting that you won't use them. I don't know if I wouldn't survive it if I let you do that to me."

"Gio, I'd never hurt you on purpose," her voice trembling just above a whisper,

"I know. I know that you wouldn't do it on purpose," I concede softly, dropping my head, feeling all kinds of ways at once. "Now that you know I'm... messed up... are you sure you... still want to be with me?" I lift my eyes to meet her in the most vulnerable way.

"Gio, don't say that!" she admonishes me, her voice tight. "I mean, I don't know how hard it would be if you got that depressed again or whatever, but I hope we could get through it... together, right? All we can do is try. I... I want to be there for you... this time." A big tear rolls silently down her cheek. "I love you, just the way you are... remember?"

Fuck. My heart aches so bad to hear that—in such a good way. Swallowing hard and nodding quietly, I blink back the emotion threatening to find its way out again.

"Bella?" I ask horsey. "Remember that other tattoo I was going to tell you about at some point?"

I hold out the underside of my right wrist to her, revealing the arrow with a semicolon on the shaft. "Semi-colons are a symbol for people that have gone through depression or other mental health hardships in their life... and got through it. It's a symbol of hope. Like your life story could have ended there, but you kept going—only a pause between two parts. The arrow is a reminder to be brave and continue forward."

"Wow... I love that. Be brave and continue forward," she repeats, looking up into my eyes. "Gio?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to be with you. I can't promise that I'll never hurt you, but I'd never deliberately hurt you. Okay?" she says, her eyes damp with emotion.

"I know, Bella... same," I breathe, leaning forward, resting my forehead against her.

Then I pull her onto my lap and into my arms, and we just hug there, feeling so safe in each other's embrace—the rest of the world and the other events of the day fall away, and our spirits float up. If I could freeze a moment in time and bottle it for later, it would be right now.

Suddenly, I hear the sliding door open and a pair of little legs rounding the side of the sofa. We are knocked slightly forward as Tony leaps onto my back, pulling us back into the world.

"Uncle Gio!!! Come on! Hurry up and come play!"

♥︎♥︎♥︎

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