Atlas has begun joining us for our family therapy appointments.
Every single one, he arrives right on time, sits on the small loveseat with Noah, while Liam sits next to me.
Dr. Stone smiled kindly when she first met Atlas, shaking his hand and welcoming him in.
When I saw him across the parking lot, sitting by his truck waiting for us, his shoulders were almost up to his ears.
His face was a stone mask that melted when he saw my car pull into the parking lot. Noah saw him walking over to us when he got out of my car and called out for him.
His shoulders dropped, then they dropped even more whenhe got a smile and a fist bump from Liam.
Then he completely relaxed when I smiled at him.
"You're here," I said, because apparently that's the only phrase I'm capable of saying now.
But it's true. He's here.
"No place I'd rather be than here," Atlas murmured, glancing at our sons before locking his eyes to mine. We walked into that therapist's office as a family.
We've done so every time since, and every time we walk out as a family, I feel a hole in my chest stitch itself together again.
Family therapy has been interesting.
Dr. Stone easily folded him into our appointments, but at the first appointment, she said she would have us speak to Atlas about our feelings, and then he would be able to respond.
Noah went first, speaking about how sad he felt during that year, when Atlas would walk by him like he didn't exist. When he would ignore his art. When he wouldn't show up for family movie nights. When he wouldn't come to family dinners anymore.
Atlas' eyes remained completely focused on Noah, absorbing his words as silent tears tracked down his face.
Liam went next, speaking about the growing anger he felt during that year, when Atlas would miss his basketball games. His anger was also focused on Atlas' treatment of me, seeing him ignore or walk away when I tried to speak to him. He said he felt helpless, which made him feel angry.
Atlas' face was completely wrecked at this, sniffing and exhaling shakily as he took in our son's words. Liam kept his tone and face even, but there were a couple of tears that escaped his eyes. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, and he leaned into me for support.
Then I went. I kept it in relation to the boys, not our marriage, because that's what I want to focus on first—restoring our family.
"I want you boys to know that what happened between me and your dad had nothing to do with you," I started, looking atLiam next to me and then Noah, under his dad's arm.
"That year was lonely, and confusing, and painful. You both felt it, but you both kept shining—Liam becoming a star basketball player," I nudged him, and he smiled, glancing down to his lap as if he's shy. "And my little Picasso, winning that magazine feature," I smiled at Noah, who giggled.
"You both did exactly what you were supposed to. Liam, I'm sorry that I made you feel you needed to protect me—I'm supposed to protect you both. But I appreciate and love you so much—both of you."
Liam leaned his head on my shoulder, and Noah gave me a small smile, "I love you too, Mama."
Atlas' arm tightened around Noah, who leaned into his side.
My husband's eyes were wet, but he was smiling.
"None of this is your fault. Not any of it," I told my sons, who both nodded. "And I've learned that it's okay to ask for help, and it's okay to talk about feelings instead of holding them inside until they hurt. It's okay to admit when we need help, when we need to change something. That's what we're learning to do now—as a family. Okay?"
"Okay," Liam whispered.
"Okay!" Noah chirped.
Atlas dropped a kiss on Noah's head and smiled at Liam and me. "Okay."
"Okay," Dr. Stone laughed with a bright smile. "Let's start then."
Imani's voice interrupts my happy memory.
