As a kid, I always thought nothing could ever hurt us because my dad was there; he would protect us from any monster.
I wanted to be that for Wendy and our boys, but I just became the monster that hurts them.
"I have to make enough money so she'll be okay—so they'll be okay," I choke out. "They don't need me. But I need them.I need her!And one day she won't be here and the boys—"
"Atlas, my boy, it's okay—"
"I need her," my voice breaks, sobbing uncontrollably now. "I need her, I need her, I need her..."
"Son, hey, hey, hey—" my dad holds me, gently rocking me side to side.
All the fight, all the anger, all the fear drains out of me as he holds me. That relief kicks through my body like a drug, flooding my veins. I feel dizzy, my feet stumble, but my dad holds me up.
"I got you, son, I got you. I'm here... your Daddy's here. It's okay..."
"Dad, I messed up..." I sob, gripping onto him like he's the only thing anchoring me to earth. Wendy's hurt face, Noah's uncertainty, and Liam's resentment play on a loop in my brain. "I hurt Wendy, my baby... I hurt my boys—my family—"
"Shh, now, it's alright, Atlas, it's going to be alright. I got you, son, I got you..."
I fall apart in my father's arms, holding onto himdesperately, remembering how I held Wendy through her falling apart earlier.
Wendy. Liam. Noah.
Memories flash across my eyes, our lives together, all the good times.
Carrying Liam on my shoulders on a hike, Wendy lounging at the lake with a sleeping Noah on her chest, sitting at the overlook and kissing my girl.
Our wedding, our son's births, playing basketball with Liam, hanging up a painting Noah made for me in my office, making love to my wife and telling her she's my whole world.
My wife, my kids, mylife.
The memories ease my pounding heart back to a normal rhythm, slow my breathing, and calm my body. I don't know how long I stay in my father's arms, but I feel drained by the time I come to.
"I love you, son," my father tells me, hands on my face, making sure I'm looking into his eyes. "You hear? I love you."
I nod.
"We're going to fix this," he says, nodding his head with a tight smile. "And we're going to do it together, okay?"
I nod.
"Your Mama and me," he affirms, "We're going to take care of you. We're gonna take care of this. I'm sorry, son, I'm sor—"
"No," I breathe, frantically shaking my head. "No, don't apologize. Please, don't..."
"We should have caught this. We should have seen this. We were just so focused on Silas and the girls," the mention of my brother makes me flinch, but my dad doesn't catch it. I'm not ready to talk about that yet.
I don't even think the words would be able to escape my mouth.
"We need to get you help," my dad says gently. "Will you do that?"
"Dad, I don't..." I start, because instinct and fear is telling me to push away, to run, to create distance.
"Atlas," he stresses, not allowing me to deflect anymore. "You are afather.You are ahusband.But, you can't be either if you don't get help. Do you understand me?"
He's right. I can't go on like this.
How the hell am I going to get back my wife, my sons, like this? I wouldn't even want them around me right now.
