Chapter 35 #3
You wonder why this happened to you. I wish I had an answer.
Sometimes, there are no answers except that other people are imperfect, and their lives intersect with ours in messy ways.
But in case you are wondering, I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with you.
You’re not bad. You didn’t do anything to deserve a difficult start to your life.
Whatever mistakes you made—or make—you still deserve to be happy and fulfilled and loved.
I have the advantage of knowing how you’re going to grow up, and the man you’re going to become. I’m so proud of you for that—proud, and in awe, and grateful. Grateful most of all for the chance to have you in my life, and that you are willing to have me, too. I love you so much. Hang in there.
And then there was the absolute worst doodle of a dog.
Wiping his eyes, Jem asked, “Is that supposed to be Scipio?”
“Well, the tail isn’t right. Or the legs. Or his head, really.”
Jem ran his thumb over the ballpoint drawing. “He’s perfect.”
Maeve had forgotten about her own performance and had gotten back into the role of bossy older sister—she was now supervising Milo, telling him how fast to run, how high to jump, where to kick the wall.
“How do they have so much energy?” Tean said, mostly to himself.
“They’ve been eating a steady diet of sugar for the last day,” Jem said. He closed the notebook. He was holding it so tightly that it bent in his hand, but he couldn’t relax his grip. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Tean looked at him.
“About it being my fault.” Jem wiped his eyes again. They felt raw. “I just— You grow up in care, and enough people say it to you, and you start believing it.”
“People said that to you?”
Jem shook his head at the question. “I don’t even know what happened.
Isn’t that fucked up? I know what they told me, but I don’t know.
She was gone, and I was in somebody else’s house.
That’s all I knew. I asked them when I was older, and they told me about the drugs, about how it wasn’t safe for me.
But she’s never told me her side of it. She’s never said anything about it. ”
Tean was silent.
“She’s never going to say she’s sorry,” Jem said. His voice broke, and he took a deep breath. “She’s never going to wish it had been different.”
“Jem,” Tean whispered, and he put a hand on Jem’s back.
Jem shook his head again. “God, Tean, she had other kids. She had a whole life without me. She never looked back. And do you know what is the most fucked-up part about it? I can’t stop wanting her to be my mom.”
Tean rubbed his back. Then he slid his arms around Jem, turning, wrapping Jem in a hug. Jem hugged him back, but it was automatic; he couldn’t seem to relax, couldn’t seem to let the stiffness in his body ease.
“Jem, of course you want her to be your mom,” Tean said. “That’s human. Anybody would want that. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry she hasn’t been the kind of mom you deserve. I’m sorry for all of it.”
“It’s fine. It’s whatever.” But then Jem said, “Why is it so hard to stop wanting things to be different?”
“Because you’re grieving.”
Jem considered this. “Like she died.”
“Kind of. You’re grieving the loss of something you’ve wanted for a long time.”
He brought one hand up to smooth down Tean’s eyebrows. “And you’re grieving too.”
“I think so. It’s different for me; I know that.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t make it less.” Jem brushed a thumb over one wild eyebrow again. “I’m sorry your parents made you feel that way when you were growing up.”
“Jem, it’s fine. I had a home, and I was fed, and in their own way, my parents loved me.” Jem raised his eyebrows, and Tean laughed. “Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it?”
“You can be mad at them.”
“I know.” Tean was quiet. His hand came to rest on Jem’s chest, and Jem thought, maybe, he was holding it exactly over Jem’s heart. “Yes, I’m angry. Yes, I’m grieving. Yes, I wish that part of my life had been different.”
They stood there, and Jem wondered if Tean could feel his heart beating faster now, if he could feel the unsteady drumbeat in his chest.
“There were a lot of kids,” Jem said, “who couldn’t let it go.”
Interest sharpened Tean’s gaze, but he didn’t say anything.
“Their parents. Their moms, most of the time. They wanted to go back so badly. And the adults never got it. These kids would run away. Run straight back home. And it might be a shithole. It might be dangerous. I knew a boy who had to sleep in the bathtub when his mom had guys come over. Or a girl whose mom was always high—so high she didn’t even know if her daughter was there or not.
One girl, her mom tried to stab her; that’s why she was in care. And you know what?”
“She went back,” Tean said.
“They all went back. Do you know why?”
Tean shook his head.
“I don’t know either. The girl whose mom tried to stab her, she said she just wanted to look. What the fuck do you think about that?”
Tean’s hand, the one still on Jem’s chest, moved in a small circle now.
“She doesn’t want me,” Jem said. “I knew that. She wasn’t happy when I showed up.
She had this perfect life, and I was going to ruin it.
And it was…not easy seeing Maeve and Milo.
” The kids in question had finally stopped their game of Parkour Junior, and now Maeve was trying to teach Milo what Jem guessed was a TikTok dance.
He caught himself smiling as he watched them.
“They call her Brigitte. They ran away from home because they were bored. They think she’s a bad mom.
I mean, maybe she is. She’s definitely not going to win any awards.
I look at them, and all I can think is that it could happen to them.
And I can’t breathe sometimes when I think about that.
” He shook his head. “But you know what? It’s not going to happen to them.
Because she had Stephen—or whatever his real name is—and she didn’t leave him. ”
“Jem,” Milo shouted, “watch this!”
“Okay, I’m watching.”
“You can watch me,” Maeve told Tean.
For some reason, that cracked open Jem’s smile a little wider.
“Are you watching?” Maeve demanded.
“We’re ready,” Tean said. “Go ahead.”
The kids did their dance, and as soon as it was over, Maeve raced Milo into the theater.
“I know this won’t help,” Tean said.
“Oh God,” Jem said, “it’s going to be bleak, isn’t it?”
“What you’re describing isn’t…unheard of.
Some animals use a strategy called brood reduction; one offspring is nurtured, and the others are allowed to die.
It’s often an issue of limited resources and efficiency, although not always.
Among humans, there’s what’s called scapegoating.
Parents choose a child to victimize. They treat their other children normally—sometimes, they treat them as favorites. And it’s not clear why.”
“I don’t know,” Jem said. “I guess I’m never going to know, because she won’t talk about it. Maybe I don’t want her to talk about it.” He thought he had stopped, but the words slipped out anyway. “I just wish it didn’t hurt.”
“I don’t know if it’ll ever stop hurting. Not entirely, anyway. But it will get better.”
“And you’ll get better too.”
“That’s the plan.”
Maybe, another day, he would have waited. But he was still feeling his way through the fog, and it was like stumbling over the words, finding them purely by chance, right as they were coming out of his mouth. “It’s scary. How you’ve been acting.”
Tean’s hand stopped moving on Jem’s chest. The muscles in his back tightened; Jem could feel it where he still held Tean in an embrace. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t say that right.”
“No, that’s fair.”
“I meant—” Jem blew out a breath. “I know it’s not fair to expect you to always be, like, the same.
Of course you’re allowed to have good days and bad days.
And I know you’re going through a lot, and I know it won’t be forever.
My brain knows that. But some days, I don’t know what you’re going to be like when I come home.
And that’s—” He tried to smile; it slipped off his face as soon as it got there. “That’s some scary shit for me.”
Tean was still rigid inside the curve of Jem’s arm, but he nodded. “You dealt with a lot of uncertainty growing up. I’ve been acting unpredictably. I understand.”
“I’m not blaming you, Tean. I’m just telling you because— Fuck, I don’t know.” This time, he laughed, and the smile stuck. “This is a lot of honesty. You know this is why people lie, right?”
“I want you to be honest with me.” He fell quiet. “I’m going to work on my coping skills. I don’t ever want to put you in that position where you don’t feel safe.”
“We can work on it together. You can tell me what to do when you’re upset. I’m good at learning new things.”
“I know you are. That’s a good idea.”
“Scipio can help.”
Tean’s dark eyes were so sad, but somehow, he laughed quietly. “He would hate to be left out.”
From inside the theater came Maeve and Milo’s giggles.
“Thank you for what you wrote,” Jem whispered.
“It’s a small thing, Jem. But I wish someone had told you that.”
“I wish someone had told you that.”
Tean’s smile was dark and winging, and in his mind, Jem saw a blackbird.
“You know what I think?” Jem asked.
Tean shook his head.
“I think it’s okay to be mad about the past. But I also think, hey, look at us now, we’re pretty great.”
Tean laughed again.
“We are. You’re this badass wildlife veterinarian. I’m a badass, uh, call center guy.”
“I’m not very badass.”
“Yeah, you are. And you’re all these other things, Tean.
You’re a hard worker. You’re so sensitive to what’s wrong in the world, and you care so much about making it right.
You’re such a kind person. You’re so compassionate.
I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so caring.
And I don’t think you’d be that person—not exactly, anyway—if you hadn’t grown up the way you had.
Yeah, it’s shitty they treated you like that.
Yeah, I wish it had been different. But you—this you, the one I love—wouldn’t be here if everything had been easier. ”
Tears spilled down Tean’s cheeks, and his voice had a rasp when he said, “I suppose you’re right.”
“And if I’d grown up like Maeve and Milo, do you think I’d know that you can ask the people at McDonald’s to put shredded lettuce and special sauce on a McDouble, and it’s basically a Big Mac?”
“I honestly have no idea what you’d be like if you’d grown up like Maeve and Milo,” Tean said with a wet laugh. “But I’m glad you are who you are. I love who you are. I wouldn’t trade this Jem for anybody else.”
“Right? So, fuck the past. And fuck all the people that fucked us up. And let’s have really, really good lives. Starting right now.”
Tears made silver tracks on Tean’s cheeks in the emergency lights. But he was smiling. And he nodded.
The sounds of bickering came from inside the theater. Milo was screaming, “Give it back!”
“Should we check on them before they kill each other?” Jem asked.
In answer, Tean cupped the back of his head and kissed him.
“Never mind,” Jem said when they broke. “Let ’em kill each other. We’re still running a two bang deficit.”
Laughing, Tean took Jem’s hand and led him toward the theater.
“It’s my turn,” Milo was shouting as Jem followed Tean through the doorway. The kids were just inside the theater. Milo was holding a flashlight. And Maeve was sitting on a folding chair, a briefcase open on her lap.
In the beam of the flashlight, a gold monogram flashed G.F.
Milo wheeled around to face the adults. “Jem, tell her it’s my turn to sell tickets.”
“Hello, sir,” Maeve said in a play-acting voice. She pretended to type, as though the briefcase were actually a cash register or a computer or something. “Do you want a ticket for the show? It’s five dollars.” And in a normal voice, she added, “Now you give me the money.”