My eyes go wide at his mean words.
Diane, Emmett, and I had sat down to tell them that their Daddy was going away for a month to a clinic for mental health. We told them that his mind was sick and he needed help.
This was a conversation I felt unprepared for. Not uncommon in parenthood, everything is a new experience for your children, but I tried to navigate it the best I can.
I don't think Noah fully understood, and he had retreated into himself during the conversation.
Liam had barely reacted when we told him.
I didn't want to push the boys, so I decided to let it rest and let them come to me if he had any questions. I worried if I pushed too hard, they would pull away even further.
Unfortunately, I can't repair their relationship with Atlas myself.
Right now it seems it's just more of the waiting game until he comes home and puts in the effort.
But I think this is the boiling point for my oldest. That resentment that has been swirling around his mind for the last month has finally erupted.
I expected anger, but I didn’t expect cruelty from him.
"Liam!" I exclaim at the same time Noah asks me, "What's an insane asylum?"
"Where they send psychos and crazies like Dad," Liamanswers him before I can, his voice mocking.
"Liam Emmett Durant!" I shout, surprising even myself. I’ve never been one to raise my voice, especially not to my sons, but the way he’s just spoken about his father made me angrier than I’ve ever been.
Despite still being angry with Atlas—despite everything—I won't allowanyoneto reduce my husband to that. Even our son. "Is that how I raised you to talk about anyone—let alone your father?"
"Yeah, some father," he scoffs, her lip curling as he sneers at me. "Some husband, too, huh, Mom? Look how much he cares about you! Treating you likeshit,and you just taking it!"
My heart drops. "Liam—"
He stands abruptly from the table, shoving his plate away.
"I don't care what he has to say. You can burn that letter," he growls before racing out of the kitchen. His footsteps pound up the stairs, his beddoor slamming hard enough to echo through the house.
I sit back down slowly, forcing myself not to cry in front of Noah. I scrub a hand down my face, inhaling deeply, grounding myself before I look at him.
"Is Daddy in an insane asylum?"
His voice is so small that it breaks my heart. Sighing, I shake my head and try to smile at Noah.
"No, baby. Daddy's away at the Doctor's. They're taking care of him."
He frowns, twisting his fork between his fingers. "His head is still hurting?"
"His mind is hurting him," I tell him gently, choosing my words carefully. "So he's with doctors who are taking care of him."
"Is that why he didn't want to talk to me?" He asks, making my chest tighten painfully.
"I think so," I nod, before giving him a small smile. "And I think he feelsreallybad about it, and he wants to fix it."
I almost lose the battle with my tears when Noah's soft voiceasks, "Can I read my letter from him?"
He looks at me with an uncertain expression, like he's not sure whether to read it or to follow his brother's footsteps. I'm glad he feels safe enough to make his own choice.
"Of course you can, baby," I say with a small smile. "Do you want me to read it with you?"
Noah frowns, thinking about it before he shakes his head. "No, it's okay, Mama."
