Chapter Twenty-Four
Wendy
January
"How were the holidays?"
Dr. Angela Pace asks me from her chair, smiling softly the same way she has been since I first started seeing her a month ago.
She's around my age, with wavy white-blonde hair and tan skin; she looks like she spends most of her free time surfing. I don't know if it's her age, her casual appearance, or her relaxed demeanor, but I feel comfortable talking to her. It's easier to feel like she can relate to me and my issues.
"They were..." I grimace, tilting my head from side to side as I search for the right words. "A little uncomfortable."
Dr. Pace tilts her head, "How so?"
I take a deep breath as I think of Christmas Eve dinner.
The boys and I showed up around six, as we normally do. Liam had his last basketball practice of the year, which was just a little Christmas party with the boys playing fun games and scrimmaging.
I picked up Noah from Taylor's and rushed both boys home, got Liam showered and dressed nicely, grabbed the food I had made, and made sure Noah was dressed in the sweater Diane bought him.
I told Liam that his Dad would be at dinner. They hadn't seen their father in a month. The last time they saw him, we were both unraveling, and then... they really, truly haven't seen their father in a year.
Not since before—
Of all the things I thought would be affecting Atlas, him stopping Silas from killing himselfnevercrossed my mind.
It felt like I was punched in the gut when he told me about that day—a day I picture so well because Molly and Jem were smiling again. My boys had been silly, making the girls giggle through the animated movie we watched.
Jem and Noah were tossing candy back and forth, trying to catch it in each other's mouths, and making a mess that I didn't even care about cleaning up.
And Molly was cuddled into my side, watching the movie, laughing at Liam's impressions with her head on my shoulder.
I remained hopeful that they were healing, grieving their mother, but also able to just laugh for a moment, just as I knew Carrie would want them.
I had no idea that at the same time, my husband was wrestling a gun away from their father because he wanted to kill himself.
My poor Atlas. It was an odd feeling how it all just clicked together in an instant, finally understanding why.
Why he pulled away...
Why he was distant...
Why he wouldn't talk to me...
Because my husband was drowning in his own thoughts, and couldn't pull himself out.
"Noah was polite and... Liam wasn't outwardly antagonistic. He mostly spent the night with his grandfather," I tell her, remembering how Atlas would try to say something to Noah, who would just nod or give him a one-word answer before burrowing deeper into my side.
I think Liam has a better understanding of his father's struggle now, but is still very hurt.
At our appointment last week, I broached the idea of Atlas joining our family therapy appointments with Dr. Stone, who agreed and said it would be incredibly helpful for us, but told me that the boys need to feel comfortable with it first. She said we should ask them at the next appointment.
As Atlas said, we had a whole year of bad.
Liam's feelings are too big for his body right now, so they keep bubbling up and shifting into anger because that's easier for him to process while Noah finds safety in withdrawing.
"It's the first holiday after everything," Dr. Pace shrugs. "Holidays are already difficult. Add in the extra stress of trying to build trust and repair a marriage, a dash of mental health issues, and you've got yourself a pretty messed-up cocktail."
