A/N: Sorry for the long wait. My precious praying mantis dog, Argon, has suffered a stroke, and his care left very little time (or inclination, considering how much crying I was doing) for writing.
Finn POV
My palms were all sweaty again, so I wiped them on my jeans. Kurt would throw a shit fit if he saw me do that, but Kurt wasn't here right now, was he? Even if I really, really, really wanted him to be. He would know what to do, I was sure of it.
"Don't be nervous, sweetie." Mom was trying to comfort me, but she was hanging onto her purse so tight her knuckles were white. If she was nervous, how could she try and tell me not to be?
I wiped my hands again. "Can I have some change so I can get a Snickers or something?"
She fished through her purse, but only came up with 14 cents. "Sorry. Do you want a piece of gum?"
It was that nasty, sugar free, crap, but I nodded and took it anyway. At least I would have something to keep my mouth occupied while I fiddled with my DS. My thumb slipped off the button and I swore softly and wiped my hands for the millionth time.
"Finn Hudson?" A woman was standing at the door, holding a clipboard and beckoning me inside. She didn't look like a nurse, exactly, and I don't think that therapists have nurses anyway, but she didn't look like a secretary either. Maybe she was the doctor? Chicks can be therapists, and they can probably rock at it, since they like talking about feelings so much.
I smiled at her. "I'm Finn." I hoped I didn't sound as stupid as I felt right now.
"And I'm Dr. Hale. I'm the one who's going to be giving you your tests." She gestured me into a room on the left side of the hallway. "Do you understand what I'm going to be doing?"
"You're checking to see if I have a learning disability, or if I'm just stupid." That was the part I got. I just wasn't sure how she was going to do that.
"Not exactly. I specialize in diagnosing ADD/ADHD and dyslexia. Me saying that you don't suffer from either of those disorders doesn't mean that you don't have a learning disability at all, just that I need to refer you to someone who might be able to better help you."
I liked her. Most people would have just rushed to reassure me that no one was really stupid, they just had different strengths. Dr. Hale just gave me the facts and moved on. "So I might have to see a lot of specialists, then." I wondered how we were going to afford this. Mom's insurance only covers so much, and I know that she got Mr. Hummel to lend her some money for this one. I'm not a moron, Quinn-voice, thank you.
That remains to be seen. Tell me that in a few hours.
Bitch. Belatedly, I realized that Dr. Hale had said something. "What?"
"I said that it's possible, though I'll probably have a pretty good idea of where we go from here by the end of our session. Does that happen to you a lot?"
"Pardon?" Kurt says that just saying 'huh?' or 'what?' makes me sound like an idiot, which is not how I want this lady to think of me. Plus, you know, I'd do anything for Kurt, so I try to remember to say it nicely.
"Do you often ask questions, but then drift off before they're properly answered?" She was watching me closely.
And let the tests begin. "Sometimes. I don't do it on purpose; I just get kind of distracted." I was smart enough not to tell her that I was talking to the voice in my head. That would just make me look nuts.
"Ok, let's get started." She pointed to a chair, and I sat down, making sure I kept my back straight and I didn't slump. See, I was a nice person without a lot of shit wrong with me. At least I hoped I looked that way.
Really, the tests ended up kind of sucking. It was all the same stuff that Ms. Pillsbury did, except it took twice as long. Or maybe three times as long, I wasn't sure. I had to copy a paragraph again, except this time I had to copy one paragraph, then copy another one, but I only had five minutes. I finished, but it looked horrible.
Then she asked me a lot of questions about school, and my life at home and whether or not I had a girlfriend. She looked a little surprised when I told her no, but I did have a boyfriend. It's good practice, me telling people I probably won't see again, so maybe I'll be better when I'm telling really important people. She asked me a few questions about Kurt, including a couple that were none of her damn business, then moved on to Mom, and more about school, and pretty soon I was sick of talking to her. But I couldn't be rude, so I just nodded like one of those bobble head dogs while she talked. You know, kind of like what I do when Kurt's blathering on and on about fashion. Only I couldn't be secretly thinking about doing naughty things to Dr. Hale like I always did with Kurt.
"What do you think is the hardest part of school, Finn?"
I barely caught myself before I nodded again. "Everything." I knew I sounded defensive, but I couldn't help it. I hate school and the fact that everything about it sucks for me.
"Could you be a little more specific? Is the problem in math, or English or is it across the board?"
With a deep sigh, I reminded myself to be honest. "Everything. But math is the worst. I have it right after lunch, so I should be all full of learning energy, but I just don't get it. I'm in stupid math, and I'm still almost failing." The backs of my eyes burned a little when I said that, but I didn't let myself cry. If I cried every time I messed my schoolwork up, I would never have time for anything else. "I used to kind of suck at English, but now Kurt and I do a lot of our stuff together, so it helps. And Mr. Shue, that's my Spanish teacher and my Glee club coach, he helps me with Spanish a lot and I have a B- now. Almost a real B." Maybe that wouldn't make someone like Kurt proud, but it was exciting to me.
"How do Kurt and Mr. Shue help you?" She was making laser eyes at me, so I knew that this was important.
"They don't help me cheat." I remembered at the last minute not to yell. It was hard though, because everyone thinks that they do, and that's why I do better in those classes. Don't get me wrong, it would be awesome if Kurt would just let me copy his papers, but he likes to talk about morals and ethics and all that other stuff, so I don't even bother asking. It was just that it hurt to try super super hard, and be proud when I got it right, and then have someone else say that the only reason I got it right was because I cheated. It made me feel like I really was just a dumb jock. "They just go over it with me until I get it."
"Orally?"
See what I mean about her asking questions that were a little too personal? "Are you allowed to ask me that? Because that's creepy. It's none of your business what Kurt and I do together."
She made a stunned face, the same one that Rachel makes when I've said something so unbelievably stupid that she doesn't even know how to correct me. "No, what I meant was: does he go over it verbally?
"Oh." Yeah, I guessed that made more sense. Hey, it's not my fault that my brain goes places when it hears 'Kurt' and 'orally' close together. "Yeah, we go over it orally?" I gave her my best smile and hoped that she would forget my little mistake.
"Ok." She made more notes, and I was starting to get irritated. "Can I see what you're writing?"
"Sure." She handed over her notepad, which surprised me. Her handwriting was hard to read, and filled with phrases that I didn't quite understand. I memorized then, though, so I could ask Kurt later. I didn't want to ask her, because I was afraid I wouldn't understand her explanation either.
Poor self-esteem. Easily frustrated.
Talented in sports/music
Trouble following sequences.
Wanders mentally.
Poor handwriting
Halting speech.
Poor time management
Distractible
Restless/fidgety
Sensory seeking during eval.
That last one was underlined, so I made extra sure I remembered it. What was sensory seeking? I passed it back to her. "Oh."
"Do you have any questions about what you just read?" Dr. Hale made me jump, even though I knew that she was in the room. "Because this is your evaluation, and I want you to understand what's going on."
"What does that last one mean?" Maybe it was a smart doctor term and Kurt wouldn't know what it meant either.
"Exactly what you're doing right now." She held up a hand and gestured at me. "Are you aware that you've been banging your shoulder against your chair for the past five minutes? Or that I've watched you wipe your hands on your pants at least 25 times since we started?"
It hadn't been that many. "I'm nervous and my palms are sweating." I didn't say anything about the shoulder banging, because I hadn't realized I was doing it. But that's just a nervous habit, right? "I still don't get what you're saying, though. So I have sensory seeking problem?"
"Sensory seeking in itself isn't a diagnosis. It's more of a symptom of a larger problem. It means that something in your brain isn't interpreting sensory input correctly." I'm pretty sure I was making what Quinn calls 'idiot-face', because she tried again. "Ok, let's try it this way. The majority of people interpret sensory input a certain way. If I were to put my hand on their shoulder, they would feel it as a friendly gesture. You might feel it as being too soft or too rough. You play football, right?"
"Yeah." I drug the word out. "Well, I did until I broke my arm this year." I pulled up my sleeve so she could se the scar. I have to say, it's pretty bad-ass.
"What position?"
"Quarterback." I picked at my sleeve, then made myself stop. Who knew what she would call that nervous habit, or what it meant was wrong with me?
She smiled. "My son played quarterback for a season. But he couldn't take the constant tackles and slamming into people. Doesn't that bother you?"
A lot of people asked that. "Not really. I kind of like getting hit, you know? It doesn't hurt as much as people say it does, and it's kind of fun to jump back up after. Except I knew a guy who never got up at all. He broke his neck and ended up being a quadriplegic." That was one word I was very sure about.
"I'm sorry to hear that." She gestured at me. "But that's another example of sensory seeking. Most people wouldn't like being slammed to the ground over and over again, but you not only don't mind it, you seem to like it."
In other words, freak, freak, freakity freak. You have something wrong with you, Finn, and it's not just ADD like everyone else. No, you have something so stupendously wrong that no ones ever heard of it before. I decided to just beat Quinn-voice to the punch here and think those things myself, before she could do it for me.
I wasn't going to do that, you asshole! I know you think that I hate you, but I don't. Face it, you and I are the same person, which means I'm trapped in the body of a giant, but that's neither here nor there right now. I know you better then you know you, and can I tell you how glad I am that we're finally about to get some help? Because I don't know if I can stand this for much longer.
Hey, I'd been having to live with it for 16 years, and she hadn't been around that long, so she could just shut up.
I've been here as long as you have. But fine, if you don't want me, I'll leave.
Real-Quinn used to threaten to do that a lot, too, but she never followed through. So I wasn't really afraid of her. So there, you sanctimonious (that's means pretending you're all holy, and making everyone else feel bad because they aren't as good) bitch!
"Finn?" Dr. Hale was giving me that grown-up look again, the one that said I was being spacey. "Are you paying attention to me?"
"Most people wouldn't like being slammed to the ground over and over again, but you not only don't seem to mind it, you seem to like it." I spit the words back to her without paying a whole lot of attention to them. I'm good at that.
"Do you understand what that means?" Her voice was gentle, but, for some reason, that just made me want to cry.
I bit down on my lip, because I wasn't going to cry like a girl in front of a stranger. "It means there's something wrong with me."
"Nonsense. You are who you are. It's worked for you so far, and it works for plenty of intelligent and successful people. This isn't dangerous, and we're trying to give you the tools you need to help yourself."
I might be stupid, but I'm smart enough to understand when an adult is just placating me. "So I have this sensory seeking thing and not dyslexia?"
"That's still up for debate. Your session today is being recorded, and what I'm going to do after you leave is consult with the other therapists in the practice. We'll look at what you and I talked about, your school records, what your mother has to say, the entire picture. Then we'll come to a group consensus."
"Oh." I had thought that she would just tell me today. How come adults could take as long as they wanted to do anything, but kids had to have the right answer in five seconds or less? "I kind of thought…" I stopped there, because I guessed it was pretty obvious what I had thought.
"That I would be able to give you a diagnosis today? Most people think that, but it isn't so simple. In order to fully assess you, at least three qualified opinions are needed. Your diagnosis will go to your school, which means they have to make accommodations for you. We need to make sure that everything is right, which is why things take so long."
It made sense, but I was really tired of waiting, waiting, waiting. "Can't you just tell me what you think? I promise I won't tell anyone." Except for Kurt, but I wasn't going to tell her that.
She wavered a bit, and I made myself look even more pathetic. "Please? I just…I have to know that I'm not just stupid."
"You aren't stupid. Here." She went through my file and pulled out a piece of paper. "This is your IQ test from freshman year."
I looked, but I wasn't sure what the number actually meant. "Is…is that good?" It was more then 100, that had to be good, right? Like an A++?
"100 is average. You're at 103, which is very slightly above. But what's interesting about your test isn't so much your score, as the discrepancy between your oral score, and your written one. Orally, you test quite high, 131, but written you have a 75, which is on the borderline of developmentally delayed."
I'm pretty sure that developmentally delayed is the same thing as being retarded, except you can't say that any more. It's wrong, like using the N-word, or the F-word. No, not 'fuck', the other F-word. The one that I kind of am now, I guess. Just a little bit though.
Finn, sweetheart, being a little bit gay is like being a little bit pregnant. You either are or you aren't, and sweetheart, you are. Just run with it, it seems to be working out for you so far.
It was totally working for me so far. I loved Kurt as much as football, and Glee, and even my X-box. But I needed him to love me back, and he wasn't going to if he found out I was…developmentally delayed.
"So I'm only halfway dumb? Because I can work with that." There had to be a way to spin it when I told the story to Kurt.
"No, that isn't what it means. A discrepancy like this means that you either can't read at all, which we both know isn't true, or you have trouble retaining what you read. Do you think you have trouble with that?"
Retaining is the same thing as remembering. Sometimes I wish there weren't so many words in the world, because having to remember them all kind of sucked. "I guess so."
"In my opinion, and I want you to remember that this isn't what we may end up deciding in the end, but you present as a pretty clear case of dyslexia. What surprises me is that no one caught it before this. Wasn't anyone worried when your grades weren't so low without any clear cause?"
Not really. Sometimes a teacher would get on my case, and try and help, but mostly they just left me alone. I didn't act out in class, and I didn't talk back to anyone, and, most of all, I played football. No one would dare flunk me and make our team suck even worse, so they just quietly passed me along. Puck thought it was great, because he didn't have to study and still got at least a C. I never told him that I really did work as hard as I could, and still got mostly C's, and a few D's. Also? I'm pretty sure I've flunked math every year since the 5th grade, but somehow they always managed to give me a D. "I guess not."
My voice sounded really small, even to myself, so I tried to make it happier. "But this is good, because you can fix me now. So, do I, like, take Ritalin or Prozac, or something?" That wouldn't be so bad. I can't really swallow pills that well, but I guess I could learn.
My stomach dropped with she made that pity face at me. "Not exactly. This isn't something that medication is going to help with, though we might consider Ritalin or something similar if we decide ADD is playing a role in your problems. There are tricks you can use, and accommodations that can be made, but, unfortunately, this is going to end up being a lot of work on your part."
"Oh." I hadn't thought of that. I just thought that, whatever was wrong with me, they would give me some pills and it would be fixed. What was the point of going to all these doctors if they couldn't make me better? "So what do I do right now?"
"Just do what you've been doing. This shouldn't take us more then a few days, and then we'll be able to get back to you and work on a plan. By Friday, alright?"
"Alright." I tried to make myself sound all enthusiastic, but I could tell that I hadn't managed to sound anything but pathetic and close to tears. "Um, I guess I'm done so thanks for looking at me and stuff."
She smiled a little, but it was kind of sad looking, like when Mom is trying to pretend that she isn't late on the bills this month either. "You're welcome. Hang in there, Finn; things are going to get better."
How? I already worked as hard as I possibly could, and it wasn't working, so how could working harder help? But I'm good as making those pretend faces, too, so I gave her my best grin. "Of course it will. Am I finished?"
"You are. Can you send your mother in for a few minutes? There's a few things left for her to sign."
I might be stupid, but I'm not that stupid. Mom had already signed about a million things, everything under the sun. So I knew that she was going to tell Mom to be nice to me, because now I knew that I was fucked up and nothing was going to fix me. I didn't say any of that though. There was no point in letting adults know when you're on to their games. "Ok."
Mom was pretending to read, but I wasn't fooled by that either. I might now understand stupid old school, but I'm really good at reading people. Especially Mom. She wasn't reading, she was worrying. About me. And spending all of our money, and Burt Hummel's money too so I could go to this specialist. And now the specialist won't even tell me for sure what's wrong, but she can't do anything to help me anyway. So I basically screwed everyone over. Except Kurt, of course, and he's the only one I really want to screw. And I want that a whole lot. "She wants you. Can I have the keys so I can wait in the car?"
"Don't put it in drive or you'll be waiting at least another year for a car. I don't trust you with a moving vehicle." She fished the keys out and tossed them over. "I love you."
"Love you, too." At least that was something I didn't have to lie or feel bad about.
It was getting dark out, and kind of cold and dampish. It kind of suited my mood, though, so I didn't kick up a fuss about it. I wanted to start crying, but I couldn't. No matter what I did, Mom would be able to tell, then she would feel terrible. If I know all of Mom's tricks, she knows all of mine, too. So I laid my head against the window and hoped that we could just go home so I could lick my wounds in private.
Sure enough, it took 15 minutes for Mom to come out, which meant that she had done a lot more then sign some papers. She climbed in the car and gave me big smile. "Guess what? The Hummel's have invited us to dinner at Breadstixx, and I accepted. Won't it be nice to be able to spend some time with our boyfriends?"
No. For once, even the thought of seeing Kurt didn't make me feel any better. I just wanted to be left alone for a while. But she had already said yes for both of us, so I just had to suck it up. "Yay." I couldn't make myself sound very enthusiastic, but hopefully she would just think I was tired after my tests.
The ride back to Breadstixx was long, and I think I kind of dozed off, only not really. I don't think I got any actual sleep, but I felt all funny and off balance when we got there. Kurt looked really nice, and he was obviously happy to see me, but I couldn't quite be so happy to see him back. He sat down next to me and rubbed my thigh. I didn't push his hand away, even though I wanted to, but I didn't react much either. He shot me a puzzled look, but he backed off.
I ordered a huge meal, not because I wanted it, but because I was feeling like a spiteful jerk, and I kind of wanted to waste Mr. Hummel's money.
You never used to be this nasty, Finn.
Learned it from you, darling. On my left, Kurt was babbling on and on about something or other, calling for a toast. I held my cup up and tried not to be mean. None of this was Kurt's fault, period. It wasn't fair to treat him bad just because I was unhappy.
Burt and Mom were flirting, which made me lose whatever appetite I might have had. And when I lose my appetite, things are really, really bad. I picked at the expensive dinner that I had ordered, glaring like it had done something to personally offend me.
Mom giggled, which made me really look at her for the first time in a while. She looked really, really pretty. Her clothes were nice, and she looked younger, not like a mom. Actually, she looked like a normal woman who was on a date with someone she really wanted to impress.
But she was a mom. She was my Mom, and I wanted her to remember that. I've seen how this works at Puck's place. Every time she gets a new boyfriend, it's all really good for Puck and Sarah for a few weeks or even a few months. Then suddenly the boyfriend is all she can think about, and the kids end up screwed over and forgotten. I wasn't going to let that happen to me or Kurt. She and I had done just fine so far, we didn't need Burt Hummel messing everything up.
This is probably the part where I have to give Burt some credit. He saw that I was miserable and tried to make conversation about football, which was usually my favorite thing in the world. But then he had to start talking about when he played football, and how he had really liked getting slammed to the ground when he played and that just made me feel worse, because it just reminded me of what the doctor had said. I was a freak, and ruined, and I had no idea how to tell Kurt.
Speaking of Kurt, he suddenly didn't look so happy either. His body was tense and he was doing that funny breathing thing he always did when he got upset. It gets all stuttery, like he can't quite catch his breath. What was his problem?
Maybe he dislikes the way you've been acting tonight. If you don't stop being a jerk to him, you aren't going to have to worry about telling him what's wrong with you. He'll just dump you for being an asshole.
"May I be excused to the bathroom?" His voice was all tight, and I knew that he whatever it was, he was just as upset as I was. He wasn't eating either, but that's kind of normal with Kurt.
"Me, too. I need to pee." I can't stand to see Kurt upset.
Mom glared. "Finn, it's not necessary to announce that in front of everyone. Just ask to use the bathroom like Kurt did. Anyway, you can go one at a time."
Did she really think I would do something with Kurt in a public bathroom? Gross! Well, ok, I would probably to it, but Kurt would never. "My food will get cold."
"Nice try, but you aren't eating it anyway."
I forced down two huge bites, just to prove her wrong. Burt chuckled. "Oh, let them both go. How much trouble are they going to get into in five minutes?"
Normally I would have liked that he was standing up for me, but I wasn't in the mood to be nice to anyone right now. I liked the man just fine when he was being Kurt's Dad, but I hate it when he's trying to be mine. I had a Dad and I didn't need another one.
She narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm timing you Finnegan."
Like she knew how long it took me to pee. Kurt had already marched off, his back stiff and his arms crossed protectively over his chest. See what I mean? Our parents are acting like a pair of teenagers, and now both of us are miserable.
Parents suck sometimes.
Kurt had a head start, but I have longer legs, so I made it to the bathroom before the door had even swung all the way shut. He was so tense he was shaking, and my heart melted a little bit. Maybe my life sucked right now, but so did his. "Come here."
He laid his head against my neck, squeezing me so tightly that my ribs hurt. I squeezed back, a little more gently, and rubbed one hand up and down his back. For a second, I didn't think he was going to talk, but he finally did, his voice so tight that I was surprised he could say anything at all. "I hate this."
"My Mom and your Dad?" I had to be sure. Because if we agreed on how much this sucked, it would be the only good thing that had happened all day.
"Yes, Finn, our parents. The ones that are out there acting like they don't even have children!" This time he was snappy, but I let it go. I felt like being snappy, too.
"What do we do about it?" He would know, and I would go along with anything he said.
He shook his head, and I suddenly knew exactly what was wrong. "It hurt you, didn't it? Seeing me and your father be close?"
"He's my father, not yours." Now he wanted to cry, I could tell. "He never looks that happy when he talks to me about anything. You're the kid he wants."
Yeah, I'm really sure that Burt Hummel wants to give up his really smart son for the one who's so dumb he needs an entire team of therapists just to figure out what's wrong with him. "Yeah? Well don't think I don't know who made my mom all hot! Maybe she would rather have you then me!" My voice did this jumping thing at the end, which made me realize that I was kind of afraid that that was true. But that was dumb, right? Mom loved me for me, and Kurt for Kurt. Even if there were some things that she liked better about him, that didn't mean she wanted trade us. Except maybe it did.
"I don't like this either. You're making her change everything. Her clothes, her hair, all of our furniture! You and I can do whatever you want when we have our own place, but I don't want you changing things at mine and Moms."
He gave me a tight nod. "So, what do we do?"
"I don't know. What do you think we should do?" Personally, I wanted to get rid of Burt Hummel, but that was mean, so I didn't want to say it out loud.
"We break them up." His eyes were narrow, and he suddenly looked like some supervillan. The kind that would have a white suit and a white cat that sits on the arm of his chair. One of those flat faced cats, the kind that look like they think they're better then you. "I know I said that I would share him with you, and I will sometimes, I promise. But not every single day, which is what will happen if they get married."
Thank God. Kurt was having the same thoughts I was; only he wasn't too scared to say it out loud. "Wait, you think they would get married?" Mom wouldn't get married, would she? She was still in love with my Dad, which meant she couldn't possibly be in love with Burt Hummel, too.
"Yes, Finn, they will get married. When people get to be our parent's ages, they don't wait forever. 6 months maximum and we'll all be one big happy family." He pushed away from me to go over to the sink and start furiously scrubbing his hands.
A thought suddenly occurred to me. "Wait. If they get married, then won't you and I be roommates? It's a short walk from one bed to the other."
He snorted. "Finn, your mother is timing you in the bathroom, because she thinks we'll commit sexual congress in here. Do you really think she would let us share a room all night, every night?"
"I guess not." And just like that, the thought of them getting married became the most disgusting thought I had ever had. That included the creepy sex dream I had had once about Mr. Shue at the beginning on the year. I had to take like 20 showers before I could get that image out of my head.
Kurt dried his hands and came back over; standing so we were face to face. Well, face to chest, but you get the idea. He put out a hand for me to shake. "So, we break them up?"
I felt like I was kind of betraying Mom by doing this, but this was for her own good. I shook Kurt's hand. "We break them up."