Oh, God.
It all comes together in an instant, the clarity making me dizzy. While I was so worried about losing my wife and my kids, I missed out on an entire year with them.
I purposefully missed three hundred and sixty-five days of their lives, and they're still here—healthy and happy and smiling and alive.
I threw away all that time on what-ifs and could-bes.
Fuck. Oh no.
No, no, no, no, no...
My father is looking at me now in a way that tells me he understands the war raging in my head. I clutch my stomach as nausea rolls violently through me.
Wendy sees it and crouches down to Noah's height, turning him so his back is to me, smiling like everything is fine, like I'm not cracking open right in our living room.
"I'm glad you liked the movie, baby," Wendy says, smoothing her hand over Noah's hair. "Did you guys eat? Are you still hungry?"
Liam shakes his head. "Nah, Pop and Mom-Mom took us for ice cream after the movie."
"Mama, I wanna be Marty McFly for Halloween!"
She laughs, kissing Noah's forehead and standing back up. "We can definitely make that happen. Can you take your brother upstairs for a bit?" Wendy says to Liam, who keeps his back to me, but positions himself between me and his mother,my wife.
She leans in and whispers something in his ear that I can't catch, before pulling back and smiling down at Noah. "You guys can play Nintendo for as long as you want tonight."
"Really?" Noah cheers and Wendy smiles, nodding. "Yes!"
Wendy and my parents laugh as Noah does a silly victory dance before Liam leans toward her.
Pride and sorrow flare inside me when he asks quietly, "Are you okay, Mama?"
I shouldn't feel pride, but I do.
Did he inherit those protective instincts, or was that self-taught through my absence?
Liam has always been attached to his mama; he was the clingiest little baby with Wendy and would cry his little head off unless she was holding him.
I always wanted my boys to know that we protect their mother, that our family runs through her. The same way my dad taught me and Silas to look out for our mom. The sameway his father taught him, and so on.
Sorrow follows close behind, because now he's protecting her fromme.
And I would never—no, I can't say that anymore.
I did hurt Wendy. I hurt my wife. I hurt my kids.
Maybe they really do think they need protection from me.
"I'm okay, baby," Wendy says softly, smiling at Liam as she pulls his head down to kiss his mop of dark hair.
Liam was born with a full dark head of hair, and my mom said that's why Wendy had such bad heartburn through her pregnancy, an old wives' tale.
Wendy was always so fascinated with it. She always said she loved how he had my dark hair, and would brush it softly with her fingers when he was a baby just as she does now.
She pushes a dark lock from his face as she reassures him. "I'm fine."
Liam nods, then tosses his arm over a confused Noah's shoulders. I try not to feel sick when he keeps himself between Noah and me, guiding his baby brother up the stairs with a final glare at me.
"Do you see?" Wendy asks quietly once we hear the bedroom door close upstairs. You need to fix that, Atlas. I cannot fix it for you—it needs to be you. Do you understand me?"
