Wendy's eyes are hopeful, Liam's face looks guarded, but... there's something else there in his eyes under the anger—hurt.
The defensiveness, the anger, all of it is coming from a place of true hurt. He's trying so hard to be brave, to not show the pain I put there, the hurt I caused. This is my doing. This has to be me who undoes it.
"I am so sorry."
"Liam's not being cruel to be cruel," Dr. Wilson tells me. "He's terrified."
"Of me?"
That's the thing about mental health: while I was struggling, I never considered how my neglect and distance would affect Wendy and the boys. I was just in constant self-preservation mode.
The thought of my son being afraid of me makes me sick.
"Not that you're going to hurt him physically," Dr. Wilson soothes, seeing my expression. "But that you're just going to withdraw again."
I shake my head firmly. "I won't."
"I know that. Wendy is starting to believe that, too, from what you've told me, but your children—they don't have the capacityor experience for this. That's why it's up to the adult to make the repair."
Liam eyes me warily.
"I am sorry for distancing myself. I am sorry for hurting you and your brother. I know you don't trust me, and I know my words don't mean much right now, but... I need you to know that I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave again. I promise. I love you, and your mom, and your brother so much... and I am so sorry, son."
Liam's hard expression flickers, and for a moment, I'm not looking at my teenager; I'm looking at my five-year-old little boy, crying and scared because he had a nightmare.
He called for me, and I came running, checking every crevice of his bedroom for scary monsters, then lying down next to him until he fell back asleep.
This time, I'm the monster, I'm the thing that scares him.
No, my fear is the monster, and I need to protect him from it.
He swallows hard before he breaks eye contact and glances over at Wendy, who holds out her hand.
"Give me your phone," Wendy says, her voice firm. Liam frowns, "Text Birdie first, tell her you won't have your phone this weekend."
Liam's eyes widen, "What? Mama—"
"Want to go for a week?"
Sighing, he taps his phone a couple of times, then locks it and hands it to his mother.
"What if I need to call you?"
"Your father can call me, or your grandparents when they get back," Wendy sighs, sliding the phone into her back pocket.
She walks over to Noah and lifts his headphones off his ears, murmuring something low that I can't catch, and he nods his head, smiling at her.
Finally, she straightens and faces me.
And she smiles.
"Hi."
This woman.
Affection swells like a wave inside of me, washing over me from head to toe. Her defense of me while still caring for our son's feelings.
She could have walked in here and assumed the same thing Liam did, but... she trusted me.
