Teddy
JULY
"Are you okay, Theo?"
Danielle asks over the line, and it feels nice that my sisters stayed with me anyway they could.
Heath and Luke both let go of me, but not before making sure I'm steady.
I nod once, and they step back, Heath standing up to refill his mug of coffee.
Luke stays on the couch next to me, but gives me some space.
"Yes," I croak, before clearing my throat and repeating. "Yes."
"Good," Stephanie says. "Because now we're going to talk, and you're going to listen. We wanted to do this in person when you were in Jersey, as far away from Mom as possible, but it looks like we need to do it now."
"Okay," I say, nodding even though they can't see me.
Luke pats my shoulder in support, and Heath comes back with coffee, handing me a mug that I accept and drain instantly. The crashes between exhaustion and adrenaline are chewing me up and spitting me out.
"Theo," Danielle says, gentler now, "what used to happen when we got home from school as kids?"
I frown. "We'd... go outside and play—"
"No," she cuts in softly. "You mean you would go outside and play while Steph and I went to Mom to get our orders."
"Orders..." I repeat dumbly. Memories bubble up from childhood, from middle school, when we would get off the bus and run through the front door.
Cringing, I remember how Mom would be in the foyer, greeting me first—always first—with a hug, a kiss, and asking how my day was. I would ramble on about whatever nonsense I did that day, and then she would coo and fawn over me, asking if I wanted a snack, a nap, or to go out and play.
Then she'd turn to Stephanie and Danielle and tell them to go upstairs, do their homework, then come down and help with dinner or start cleaning.
Sometimes they complained—Mom called it whining—that they wanted to watch TV first, or go to a friend's house, or just sit down for five minutes. Mom would say no.
Then I'd ask if I could go outside with Lily or the neighborhood kids. She'd kiss my cheek and tell me to be careful.
That was normal, but now I can see it for what it was—unfair.
"I didn't..." I shake my head, words caught in my throat.
How many times can I use the same excuse? How many ways can I excuse my blindness and ignorance? How many people can I apologize to for not seeing this fucked up family dynamic?
"Didn't realize it? Yeah, we know," Danielle sighs. "That's why we didn't totally hold it against you."
"Still sucked, though," Stephanie mutters.
"Mom clearly favored you over us. We learned that early."
"Why?" I ask, honestly bewildered.
Stephanie and Danielle always got amazing grades, excelled in their sports or activities, and would cook, clean, and help Mom out whenever they could. I was mediocre at school, didn't want to play sports, and didn't even clean my own room.
Why was I treated like a prize?
Stephanie laughs dryly. "That question has many answers, but it can pretty much be summed up by this—because this is a man's world, Theo."
"You were blessed to be born a boy, where you're championed just because."
"Danielle and I had to work twice as hard just to get a fifth of the praise you got from Mom. Even then, she always had a snide comment—if I got an A, she said it should have been an A+."
"When I got runner-up in the science fair, she said there was no point in coming to see second place."
"Not that she ever really cared about our academics," Danielle adds. "She wanted the two of us to meet nice men, settle down, and keep our mouths shut."
They move in tandem, my sisters, sliding in over each other's thoughts like this conversation has lived in both of them for years and finally found a way out.
It makes my stomach turn to think how long they must have sat with this.
How many times they must have swallowed it down.
How long they waited until they thought I could actually hear it instead of defending Mom.
And how fucking ignorant I was not to see any of it.
I always liked my sisters, no matter what Mom said. I admired them more than I ever admitted out loud, especially when Nana and Pop talked about them proudly.
Danielle is terrifyingly smart, always has been.
If I asked her for help with homework, she'd stop whatever she was doing and sit with me until I understood.
She graduated top of her class, then went backpacking through Europe before college because she wanted to see the world.
Mom said it was reckless, I thought it was brave.
And Stephanie was cool in a way that made every friend I ever had think so too, even the secret friends from school Mom didn't know about.
Stephanie listened to loud, screaming music that Mom once called satanic, came home from college with tattoos and piercings, and talked about protests and sit-ins, almost getting arrested.
Both my sisters are brave. Braver than I ever was. And so was Indie.
I said the meanest thing I could think of to her, and it landed exactly where I meant for it to. No excuse for that. Nothing accidental. No blaming my mother's voice coming out of my mouth.
The meanest thing I could say about her was also the bravest thing about her.
She doesn't have a blood family to fall back on. She built everything all on her own, and when I used to express my admiration for that—because I truly would be nowhere without my family's financial support—Indie just looked uncomfortable with the praise, like she didn’t know what to do with it.
She's the bravest woman I've ever met.
"Mom's living the life she wants," Danielle says. "Perfect on the outside, rotting on the inside."
"Why do you think Dani and I barely come home?"
Danielle snickers. "I'm guessing because Mom told you we were ungrateful little brats who were jealous of you."
My silence answers for me.
"I didn't think that," I say weakly.
"No," Stephanie says. "Mom did the thinking for you and slid it right into your head. That's why Nana and Pop bit your head off any time you parroted the sexist bullshit you picked up from Dad."
"Pop almost rang his bell one Thanksgiving after Dad barked at Nana to get him a beer."
"I remember that," I whisper.
One of my earliest Thanksgiving memories was when I was six. Dad had snapped at Nana—literally snapped his fingers. Pop had sprung up from the couch like a jack-in-the-box, yelling at my Dad. I just remember being scared by the volume of their voices, then Mom ushering me out of the room.
I asked her what was happening, and she told me they were playing a game.
"How do you think your room got clean?"
"Mom," I say automatically, though as soon as I say it, I already know the truth.
"No, we did that, but you should have been doing it," Stephanie scoffs. "You should have been chipping in with chores, but it all fell on us."
"You know what Mom said when we told her that?" Danielle says. "That you were too young, that you were tired, that you wanted to play."
"I'm... I'm sorry," I say, because it's the only thing I can think of to say. "I'm really sorry."
There's silence from the phone before Stephanie sighs.
"We would have told you this sooner, but we didn't think you would listen."
"Then you started talking about Indie," Danielle says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "And we were hopeful."
"Then we met her," Stephanie says, "and got excited."
"Finally, this one could actually be the one."
"She just might get Theo free from Mom."
"Independent, a doctor, smart," Danielle laughs. "And you were following after her like a dog, looking at her like she was everything."
Luke and Heath both snicker, and even with my face heating, I can't deny it.
"But Mom didn't like her for all of those reasons," Stephanie says, "and because Nana adored her. She knew Nana always had your ear."
"Mom liked Lily because she's simple," Danielle says. "She bends. She wouldn't challenge you and, more importantly, she wouldn't challenge her."
They're right. Lily adored and idolized my mother. My mother would throw underhanded jabs about her successful marriage to Colleen that made me cringe, while simultaneously comforting Lily about her own divorce.
After Nana died, whenever Mom called, and I went over there to comfort her, Lily would just happen to be there. Mom would disappear into the kitchen to make dinner, and suddenly, I was the person Lily used to pour everything into.
She met her husband in college. He cheated on her for years. She stayed and forgave and stayed and forgave until she finally couldn't anymore. I know how it feels to be cheated on, and how difficult it can be to leave the relationship. Especially when it's toxic.
But that was a problem, because then Lily would try to lay her head on my shoulder to cry, and I would create distance.
Physical distance, but not emotional distance and boundaries.
I see that now. And I feel like even more of an asshole, because that was emotional energy I should have been putting toward Indie, my girlfriend, my own relationship, and building our future.
My stomach rolls when I envision the future my mother was crafting for me. Indie gone, me wrecked, Mom pushing Lily toward me, and me safely under my family's thumb for the rest of my life.
Miserable and trapped and without Indie.
"I don't want Lily," I say, shaking my head hard. "I never did. I just want Indie. I need Indie."
"We know," Luke says quietly. "We could all see it."
"We liked her from the start," Danielle says. "That's why we were so happy for you. Jersey. Europe. All of it. You were actually going to live, Theo. Not just keep orbiting Mom. Not taking over the business because Dad planned it. You were going to craft your own life with the woman you love."
"It felt like defusing a bomb," Stephanie snorts. "Especially after Nana died. She was your shield."
"She was the one who told you to go away for college," Danielle says, "even though it was only an hour away and Mom cried like you were shipping off to war."
"She was the one who told you to get the condo with Heath and Luke, even though Mom was having a fit that you wouldn't come home."
"And she was the one who put your ass back in line every time Dad jumped out of you," Stephanie says dryly.
"We were terrified to bring up the enmeshment," Heath says, sheepish now. "We thought you wouldn't react well."
"Abuse victims usually don't."
My brow furrows instantly, and the denial is automatic.
"I wasn't abused. Mom and Dad never hit me, they were just—"
"Emotional terrorists," Stephanie cuts in. "Honestly, maybe Dani and I were lucky in one way. They neglected us, so we gravitated toward Nana and Pop. But you? You got smothered by Mom, and Dad couldn't go a single day without calling you a pussy."
I don't feel shame about that anymore, only anger. Because I see my parents for who they are now—weak and miserable. Both of them.
"There are many different types of abuse, Theo," Luke says gently. "Financial, physical, sexual, mental, emotional. It doesn't all have one shape, but that doesn't make it any less abusive. Your parents abused all of you."
I sit with that for a long moment, hating how the words sink in and just fucking make sense. I've always thought abuse was a lack of love, not too much of it.
My head spins, and I try to grasp onto anything. I believe my sisters. I believe Indie. Too late. Always too fucking late.
"I don't know what to do," I admit.
Luke nods. "You admitting that is a good start. You're not bottling everything up anymore. Usually admitting there's a problem is the hardest part. You've done a lot of hard things in the last two hours, Theo. It counts. It's progress."
"Is it too late, though?"
"No, I don't think it's ever too late to get help," Luke says, giving me a small smile. "You just have to want it."
"But don't do it just to win Indie back," Danielle says, and there's no softness in her voice now. "Do you really think she deserves this version of you after the way you hurt her?"
Shame burns my face.
No.
Indie deserves the best. Indie deserves to be chosen first, to be placed first. She deserves everything good in this world and more. Indie deserves peace, but all I brought her was pain and chaos.
I have to change because I need to become someone better than this weak man.
I need to become the version of myself Indie somehow saw all along.
The one that was worthy to touch her, to love her, to protect her.
And then maybe... maybe she'll see that.
Maybe I can be the man she needs.
But I have to become him first.
"Okay," I nod, sniffing.
Tears sting my eyes, and I don't stop them from falling.
There's no man in my ear calling me a faggot for crying. No woman in my ear cooing over me and telling me I'm perfect exactly as I am. There's my real family—across the world and in this room—and somehow Indie too, even in absence, demanding I be better because they believe I can be.
"Okay," I take a deep breath. "Let's change, then."