Paws & Art
Title: Concerning Paul Lahote
Penname: EnjoyyourJacob
Banner #3
Rating: M
Summary: Being able to turn into a wolf is overwhelming to say the least. Turning into a wolf and having ADHD is quite the challenge. Leading character: Paul Lahote
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To see all the stories that are a part of this contest please visit: http: / / printingpawss . blogspot . com/
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A/N: I'm not exactly following Meyer's timeline. After the new-born fight, Bella decides to be with Jacob. The Volturi might or might not come after Bella. It's of no concern for this oneshot as it is about Paul.
Kudus to my beta, JoanneSwift. Thank you for betaing this story for me on such a short notice!
Any errors you might still find are mine, because like always I made a couple of last minute changes. Not only Paul suffers from ADD. Just saying. LOL
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Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD or AD/HD or ADD) is a developmental disorder. It is primarily characterized by "the co-existence of attentional problems and hyperactivity, with each behavior occurring infrequently alone" and symptoms starting before seven years of age. (http: / / en . Wikipedia . org / wiki / Attention_deficit_hyperactivity_disorder)
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Concerning Paul Lahote
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My name is Paul Lahote. I'm Quileute. I'm an only child. I'm a shape shifter, and I have ADHD.
I was a wild child with a hot temper. That hasn't changed to this day. I'm disorganized, impulsive, dyslexic, and most of the time, I'm thinking about a thousand things at the same time. I couldn't sit still if my life depended on it. Overall, it might seem I'm a lost cause.
The earliest childhood memory I can recall is me sitting at First Beach happily chatting away with my two imaginary friends, Peter and Louise. You wonder why I'm telling you this so freely without feeling embarrassed? I've learned to accept my issues and to just live with them. I've learned to laugh at myself. It makes liking my crazy ass a lot easier.
From what my mother told me, I started walking and talking very early. I couldn't have been older than 10 months, when I made my first steps towards the pond behind our house, trying to cozy up with the ducks my mom kept at that time. The ducks flew away, and I ended up face-first in the water, eating duckweed. Mom made my father build a fence to keep me from drowning myself. Needless to say, that it didn't stop me for long.
My mom recognized that I seemed to be different when, after turning two, I started to throw fits that far exceeded the common dosage of a child's rage. I'd freak out over the strangest things, but mostly when something wasn't exactly as it needed to be. Like, always eating my breakfast cereals out of my Bob The Builder bowl, and it had to be the red spoon. Should it happen that mom gave me the wrong bowl or a different spoon, I'd scream for hours, frustrated and inconsolable.
I also wouldn't sleep if my blanket wasn't drawn back the right way at bed time. When mom tucked me in, she also needed to pull down the blanket so that its lower edge would accurately stop at the end of my bed. Then, she had to smooth it down. Wrinkles were unacceptable, too.
These strange patterns of behavior were my mechanisms to cope with the chaos in my head. It can be freaking overwhelming to have a million thoughts whirling in your head at the same time almost the entire day. Over the years, I developed several coping mechanisms, and even today I'm using routines and patterns that help me to get through my everyday life.
I started school at the age of five like every other kid in the US, but I never could quite fit in. I got distracted very easily. Be it a bird hopping from one twig to the other, or the noise a pencil made on paper, or the funny smell of the girl sitting next to me. From one second to the other, my attention would be elsewhere, the task forgotten.
On the other hand, at home, when I had my wooden blocks I could concentrate for hours, creating the most amazing and complex constructions: towers, bridges, castles, and houses. Whatever building came into my mind and seemed interesting, I tried to build it.
When I was a kindergartener teachers were nice and smiled at my antics. They found it funny when I - once again - would wear my shirt inside out or the wrong way round. They would think I was adorable when I would chase after yellow butterflies instead going back inside with my class after PE. At the most, they would tsk at me for throwing a fit when I couldn't manage the art of tying my sneakers.
Later on, they got mad at me and told me to behave, to be better, to try harder. My teachers never had the nerve or patience to deal with me and my temper. It was impossible for me to be quiet and sit through school hours as was demanded of me.
I had a hard time learning to read and write, which soon made me the scorn of the class. I wasn't dumb, but I simply couldn't recognize the letters, let alone memorize them and contract them to words.
I wouldn't remain seated. I would fidget around restlessly and blurt out answers. I couldn't wait for my turn and wouldn't listen to what my teachers said. I had poor social skills. I couldn't handle criticism. I wouldn't follow instructions. I wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
Once I became aware how little my class mates and teachers liked me, I tried to hide my low self-esteem behind unruly behavior, aggressiveness and verbal hostility towards my parents, classmates and teachers.
I would be Paul the Hot Head, Paul the Trouble Maker, Paul the Space Cadet.
Today, I know that all of the above mentioned behaviors and issues are typical for children with ADHD, but at that time I simply was a naughty boy.
Living at the rez, there was little to no money to be spent on school programs. So the teachers lacked ADHD management skills as they never received any training in understanding or managing ADHD behavior.
Soon enough, my parents and teachers didn't know what to do with me anymore.
My father never had the patience to deal with me anyway. He'd be drunk most of the time and try to beat sense and reason into me. My mom, on the other hand, was patient and loving, but she could only do so much. Whenever she tried to stand up against my father, he would take out his anger on her.
Naturally, fear and punishment didn't make my condition any better. If anything, I only learned to hit back.
Life got a lot simpler – not better I may add – when my father died. He froze to death one icy January night, falling asleep on the roadside after a booze cruise with his drinking buddies. What a shitty way to kick it. The sad thing is that I couldn't really feel sorry for him. He had it coming. It wasn't the first time he ended up falling asleep in the middle of nowhere, but this time there was no one to inform my mom to get him home.
So, I was twelve and a semi-orphan, but really…We were better off without him.
Unfortunately, my behavioral problems had already spiraled out of control at this point. I would beat up anyone who would even look at me funny. I was skipping school, ran away to disappear for days. I was mouthing off to my mom.
She finally went to get help from our Chief, and being the practical man that he is, Billy Black sort of took me under his wings. He didn't mind looking after me as his daughters, Rebecca and Rachel, recently had left the reservation for a special school program. That left him with his son, Jacob. Jake was one of the few kids that didn't look down on me, but we didn't hang out very often. I've had my friends, and he had his, and that was it.
Billy Black spent a lot of his time with me. When I got detention, he made it so that I spent detention time with him. He never ran out of patience. He insisted that I read to him, no matter how long it took to get through a book. He made me sit and watch wildlife – I often fell asleep on him. He talked to me about my issues and wanted to know what was going on inside my head.
Billy Black had always been a smart chief, who read a lot and kept himself well informed. So he figured out quickly where my problems could be coming from and talked my mom into getting me an appointment at the Quileute Mental Health Clinic to have a look at me. After running several tests it was clear that I was having an attention deficit disorder and hyperactivity.
The mental health worker not only labeled me, but she also told my mom what she could do to help me cope with my disorder. She also brought me to see the positive traits of having ADHD: I could empathize. True, but I often chose not to. I'd be a good listener, she said. Yes - when it counts. I'd work best under stress. Also true – when others would start freaking out, I'd be highly concentrated and on my best. She figured I had a great sense of justice and that was why I often felt fucked over. What she liked the most about me was that I'm a good strategist, because I could think in a dozen different directions and sort out all kinds of options. She said that probably that would come in handy once I was an adult and working on a job.
The next few years, I learned how to learn more effectively and how to memorize things easier. I also got to know the importance of involving routines and creating structure in my life. Everything got a little better. I got better grades in school. My social skills improved a lot, but not all issues simply disappeared. That would have been too good to be true.
I still got in fights a lot. I still had problems with reading and writing, and I still couldn't control my temper. The latter even became worse the closer I came to my 16th birthday.
One day, I had to run an errand for my mom, when I saw two bullies backing a younger kid into a corner, pushing and kicking him repeatedly. That was when my protective nature broke free, and I went over there to intervene. It was one against two, but it didn't matter to me. I hated that they were beating the shit out of younger kid. I was so enraged, I started shaking.
Next thing I knew, Sam Uley pulled me away from those guys and hauled me into the forest behind the school building. Yelling and kicking, I demanded to be let down, but he was a hell of a lot stronger than me. All of a sudden, a pain I'd never experienced before ripped through me. My body shook in cramps and seizures so hard my vision turned white.
Eventually, the pain was over. I lifted my hands to rub my eyes, but they were huge paws. I jumped up, coming to stand on four legs and Uley's voice was in my head. Whatthehell?
I had turned into a huge dog. Nope, scratch that. Wolf. I'd turned into a wolf. Sam, now phased into a gigantic black wolf, hurried to clear up the confusion to stop me from tearing up the forest. Doyourememberthelegends? he asked, letting me see inside his head as he thought of one of our many bonfires and story-telling nights. Theyareactuallytrue.
We could turn into wolves – and back again. We were the protectors of our people. We're created to fight against the Cold Ones, and the phasing was triggered when there are Cold Ones around. Cold Ones such as the Cullens.
No frickin' way!
TheCullens?
Dr. Cullen had always been so friendly whenever my mom came to have one of my many injuries I had gained in one of my many fights tended and stitched up. A fucking vampire had touched me? He could touch and treat bleeding people and nobody was there to stop him?
I was about to storm over to the Forks Hospital and get rid of the good doc once and for all, but Sam Alpha-ordered me to sit still on my hairy ass and listen. Wasn't I a lucky kid? Not only that I turned into a wolf, I had an Alpha now as well and had no other choice than to obey. Fan-fucking-tastic! I then learned that our ancestors, namely Ephraim Black and Quil Ateara, had made a treaty with the Cullens as they were "vegetarians" and had promised not to hurt a human. Ever.
Vegetarians? I barked.
Theydon'tdrinkhumanblood.Theonlyfeedonthebloodofanimals, Sam explained, sounding as unhappy as I felt.
Everything was just too much. I couldn't hold in the sick feeling anymore. My stomach churned and twisted. I turned around, coughing and retching, saying goodbye to my dinner.
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*~oOo~*
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I was the first to phase after Sam, and over the next months, more and more kids phased and joined our pack: Jared, Embry, Jacob, Quil, Seth and Leah.
Being able to turn into a wolf was overwhelming to say the least. Turning into a wolf and having ADHD was quite the challenge.
With my heightened senses, I was in constant sensory overload. Practically overnight, my sense of smell was 100 times keener. I could hear sounds up to six miles away, including those nasty high-pitched sounds in the range where bats produce sound. With my eyes, I was able to detect even the slightest movements of very small animals. All of that was pretty disturbing and distracting, having all those sensations coming together at once. My brain couldn't process all the information, making me the most unstable wolf ever.
I could get lost from the pack, watching squirrels fight. I'd get distracted and forget patrolling when four miles away a rabbit was munching on cabbage, or I'd laugh myself silly hearing Mrs. Jones' obese cat disgorging hairballs.
Don't get me wrong, people, I wasn't a total basket case. I am, by all means, a great hunter and seeker. I was the one that discovered the Rastafarian leech that was after Bella Swan lurking in the tree stops. I also was the one that sniffed out the red-haired female vamp and her boy toy. Not that it helped much. The leech had a great sense of danger and always slipped through at the last second.
There was something more I discovered after phasing – suddenly I was attractive to the other gender. I had grown several inches and put on a lot of muscles. Girls obviously liked that. A lot. They were drawn to me like moths to the flame. My bad boy attitude seemed to attract them, too. It didn't take me long and I received my first kiss, and a couple of weeks later I had sex for the first time.
I was astonished to find out how relaxing sex could be. It was definitely more relaxing than getting off from my own hand. Damn, sometimes my dick felt raw after hours of jerking off in the hope to find some sort of relaxation that never came.
Naturally enough, it was hard to have a relationship when you have to keep a secret like ours. I couldn't tell my girlfriends where I would disappear to, at odd hours, and not telling is like lying, which leads to jealous, mistrusting girls. Jealousy and mistrust leads into arguing and finally fighting, and arguing with Paul Lahote could only end up with temper outbursts. Of course, my raging and shouting would scare off the girls, and I would be afraid of accidently phasing in front of them. You see, it simply didn't work out. Soon, I receded to casual sex with random girls, letting go of the hope to have a normal relationship altogether.
However, all the strong demeanor and mouthing off was just a façade. It was my attempt at trying to hide how confused and overwhelmed I actually was. My old insecurities and the feeling of being stupid and not good enough were back tenfold. It was undermining and finally stripping away my hard-earned self-control. I was ticked off on a daily basis, phasing faster than I could strip down my clothes, and constantly picked fights with my pack mates.
It took me almost a year to adjust to my new abilities, a year where my mom was worrying herself crazy over me. I hated that I wasn't allowed to tell her what was going on with me. She had always been closest to me and now I had to shut her out. Thatdamnfuckinghurt!
Because there was no way to get back to school in my condition, I had to leave without a diploma. Not that it really mattered to me. I'd hated school. In fact, I was darn happy to never have to step foot over the school threshold anymore.
I've had to earn some money though. I constantly needed to buy new clothes and I wouldn't accept my mom paying for the amounts of food I needed, either, so I started working. I accepted any odd job they gave me on the reservation and around Forks.
Imagine my surprise when I found that I really loved my jobs. Finally, I could work with my two hands. I could do the things I always wanted to do. I didn't need to sit through school, waiting for the torture to end. I loved construction jobs the most, but I did great as a timber worker as well. I was relatively relaxed when standing on the roof a building or painting a house. I barely felt the urge to phase when being at work.
My ability to hyper-focus came, very much, in handy, when the newborns came after Bella. I quickly caught up with everything Jasper TheMajor Hale would teach us. I loved the training, and when it was finally time for the big fight, I focused, jumped and finished off vamp after vamp. I can proudly say that I killed four leeches all by myself, and helped my brothers in taking out several more.
Not that I cared much, but after the fight and Jacob getting severely hurt, Bella finally gathered her wits and decided to leave Edward Cullen. Damn, it had taken her forever, but now she was with Jacob and that was a good thing.
I was looking forward towards a lazy and quiet summer, but I should have known better. Quiet and lazy just doesn't do it for me.
Rachel Black came back to the Reservation, and I imprinted on her.
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*~oOo~*
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I looked at a pic of my twin sons, tenderly caressing the paper with my fingertip. Noah and Trevor were six week old and turned our life upside down. Rachel had her hands full with the babies and Noemi, our two year old daughter, who seemed to take so much after me, and still she never complained.
We had married eleven months ago and moved into the house I'd built for us.
I'm blessed to have her in my life.
I also blessed she didn't beat me to death when I got her pregnant with our twins. It definitely was my fault as I - in the heat of the moment - forgot to pull on a condom. Actually, we had agreed to wait until Noemi was a little bit older, but well… Leave it to me to screw it up. But then, maybe it was just right, because now we have our boys, and we really are happy.
I love Rach. I love our kids. I love coming home after a long day at Sam's construction company. Yeah, I really love my life.
Rachel clearly was the best thing that could have happened to me. She completed me. She accepted and loved me the way I was, and still, she never hesitated to call me out on my shit. She possessed the typical Black traits – strength, willpower, and a good sense of humor. She came with a whole lot of sexiness, too. I found sex to be relaxing before, now it was mind-blowing. I can go for days without my mood swings after making love to Rachel. Unfortunately, my beloved (hello,sarcasmhere) pack mates don't let me live this down. They enjoy teasing the shit out of me, and as soon as I start to get antsy, they have the greatest fun telling me to go home to get some so they wouldn't need to endure my aggressive ass.
Of course, there still were days when everything was just too much, when I couldn't concentrate, when I was impatient, when I was jumpy and aggressive. But instead of yelling at me and demanding that I try harder, Rachel would simply shove me out the door and order me to run it out and come back when I was better.
If I was unstable, I was dangerous. An unstable wolf didn't belong around his wife and kids. We all knew that. So she would throw me out. There would be no hard feelings, no reproaches, but no sugarcoating either. She accepted my mood swings like no other, knowing that I would make it up to her as soon as I was back on the right track—
"Paul! Paul!" Sam's voice filtered through my stream of thoughts. "Damn, where are you? You're like a million miles away…"
I blinked, focusing on Sam. "Uhm—"
Sam laughed and looked at the picture I was holding in my hand. "Didn't you get enough sleep? You seem a little distracted."
"No, no… it's okay. I'm only having a Ihavetousethesame-clothes-pins-kind of day," I said to him, earning a confused look. The same-clothes-pins-kind of a day was something Rachel discovered. It was an odd habit of mine. When too much was going on around me and I needed some time for myself, I would hang out the laundry, having to peg the pins in a particular pattern – sorted in colors, forms and brands.
I coughed, and explained to Sam, "You know, it's an odd habit. Don't ask… It's like when you walk along the sidewalk but you can't under no circumstances touch the gaps with your feet, and you also need to touch the stones in a special pattern."
Sam still looked at me strangely and concerned. I laughed it off. "Sam, people with attention deficit disorder get easily overwhelmed. When I'm having a bad day I need to compensate or I'll freak out. On days like that some things have to be done in a special pattern. Only following that routine will bring me some comfort in myself, and I can eventually snap out of it."
"You, Paul, are a strange guy," Sam said and slapped me on my shoulder.
I grinned at him, punching his arm. "And that is why you love me so much."
"You're simply not made for a life behind a desk. Go out, build something!" Sam grabbed the stack of papers I had tried to work through, and ushered me out the door. "Oh, and call Rachel back. She's called, like, two or three times already…"
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*~oOo~*
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When Rachel picked up the phone there was mayhem on her end of the line. The babies were screaming and Noemi went berserk repeatedly banging one of Rachel's wooden spoons on a saucepan. It was hard to follow the conversation, and even harder to memorize the items Rachel wanted me to pick up from the store before I came home.
"Yeah. Yeah. I've got it, Rach. String cheese for Noemi, three packages with sliced bacon, dish soap and a gallon of milk." God, my ears hurt. How could Rachel stand this all day long?
"You better write it down, Paul," Rachel yelled over the noise our kids created. "You'll forget it otherwise."
"Will do, honey. I love you. I'll be home at around five." I shut my phone and put it back into my pocket. Then Jared came and asked me about a problem they had discovered with the house we were currently restoring, and I went with him, forgetting to put down the list.
Around four, I got ready to leave, but not before scribbling down where I'd stopped working on and where to begin in the morning. Because I was so terribly inattentive today, it took me some time and when I finally was really ready to leave I had – of course – lost all track of time. It was close to five already and I still had to go to the grocery store.
I ran to our car, but in my haste, I had left the car keys inside the office. "Dammit," I grumbled under my breath, and raced back to retrieve the keys. Sitting in my car, I realized I'd forgotten what Rach wanted me to buy because Jared had interrupted before I'd been able to write the items down.
"Shit!" I slammed my hands against the steering wheel in frustration, desperately trying to remember instead of calling her back. When I finally arrived at Mrs. Ateara's grocery store, it was a quarter past five.
Noemi had to eat at around six o'clock, so she could be in bed at around seven thirty. Otherwise, a big tantrum was ensured. I rushed into the store, hectically walking up and down the aisles. "Come on, Paul, remember," I whispered to myself. My wolf started to get agitated by the adrenaline my body was firing off. I tried to calm down to keep the wolf in check, but that was only causing me more stress, and by the time I finally had a gallon of milk and the detergent in my cart, I realized I had spent precious thirty minutes in here already.
"Shit. Shit. Shit," I muttered, and almost didn't see Bella. I just managed to stop the cart from hitting her in the back.
"Hi, Paul." Bella smiled at me, while stopping her toddler from climbing into Mrs. Ateara's potato crate. "You look stressed. Do you need help?"
She was an angel. "I forgot what Rach told me to buy," I confessed frustrated.
"Then call her and ask what she wants you to bring," Bella suggested and lifted Jake Jr. up. He almost poked her in the eye.
I whined. "Not again, Bella. I always need to call her back… I just want to remember… Just once. Dammit!" My eyes fell on the cheese that was displayed in front of me. "String cheese!" I blurted out, lighting up like a kid on Christmas.
With Bella's help I finally remembered the sliced bacon, paid, and raced home, ignoring all speed limits.
By the time I stepped through the door, I was exhausted and in a complete tizzy. Noemi was irritable and disgruntled, the twins were crying, and Rachel was shooting daggers at me with her eyes. "What took you so long, Paul? I thought you'd be here at five?"
"Sorry, Rach." I handed her the bag with the groceries, and pulled a red flower from behind my back. "Forgive me?"
"I've waited for you. Noemi has waited for you," Rachel stated and put the flower in a vase.
I slumped down at the kitchen table and said nothing. I knew she was disappointed in me.
"I love it." Rachel put the vase on the table and ruffled through my hair, slightly scratching my neck. I almost purred with pleasure. She kissed me behind my ear and whispered, "Thank you."
Noemi came to sit on my lap, demanding my attention on the top of her voice. Even though I was tired, I sang her favorite nursery rhyme and let her hop on my knees, while Rachel diapered and fed the twins.
Later that night, when the kids were sleeping and the disagreement from before was a thing from the past, Rachel wondered out loud, "Paul, why on earth did you bring laundry detergent? Didn't I say dish-soap?"
I was busted, and I knew it, so naturally I did what any good husband would do – I lied.
"Uh, nope. Don't think so," I said, smiling big and pulled her close to me, planting a sloppy kiss on her lips.
"Ewww," Rachel complained laughing, batting my chest and wiggled out of my embrace. She went into the bathroom, going through her nightly routine. Then she called me, lacing her voice with a whole lot of sultriness. "Paul, are you coming to bed?"
I grinned. Mission accomplished. Even Rachel could get distracted…
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