Chapter 35
Theo
I wonder what my mom and dad look like now. Glancing down at the photo album in my lap, I swipe at the tears gathering in my eyes. The living room TV is on, but I’m not watching it. I’m too busy staring at photos.
I’m not having a great day, and this isn’t helping.
Depression, like anything, isn’t a monolith.
It doesn’t affect all people the same. And it doesn’t even affect the same person the same way all the time.
There were times I felt great. Times when I easily held a job, when I slept for eight hours and felt rested enough to get through the day, days when I laughed with my coworkers. Where happiness existed and was real.
But those days never lasted. They stuck around long enough for me to feel like I was flying, though. Climbing up, up, up, like a roller coaster. But just like a roller coaster, there’s always an inevitable drop.
I understand in theory that the medication I take every morning after breakfast is supposed to stop that from happening. It’s supposed to keep me from falling. But nothing is perfect, and on days like today, when I’m feeling less than my best, it makes me worry that it’s the beginning of the end.
Realizing that my antidepressant was working felt like a gift from the universe.
Here, take this happiness. You’ve earned it.
But when I told Charlotte that, she reminded me that if the universe is in charge of my happiness because I’ve earned it, it also means the universe gave me pain because I deserved it. And I know better. I don’t deserve pain. Or sadness.
My depression was a black hole, swallowing my soul and leaving a husk in its place, destroying all the things that were good about me with its insatiable mouth.
Now, it’s a protostar. Almost too small and new for its light to be seen. But even if it’s not seen, it’s there. Warming me from the inside out and getting ready. Growing and building until it can truly shine.
And that’s how I know that even though today is a rough day, I’ll be alright. When Hunter gets back from the feed store, I’ll tell him that my mind is a bad place today. I’ll let him hold me up and support me. Because he wants to. Because he loves me.
I’ll call Luca. I’ll talk to Arlo. Hell, I’ll find Millie. I’ll use my support system. I won’t allow that black hole to suck me back in. Not this time.
Even with all my years of therapy, I have something now that I never did before.
Community. Well, and antidepressants. But community.
Depression demands that you hide. That you shy away from love and help and friends and family.
It takes and takes and takes. Until you’re surrounded by the dark nothingness of your life, ready for it to be over, and wondering how you even ended up there to begin with.
I don’t have to stand alone in the dark nothing anymore. I have people to help me find my way to the sunshine now.
Flipping to the next page of the photo album, I smile through my tears, staring at a photo of my mom at one of my birthday parties. Her dark curly hair was pinned up on her head, fingers coated in frosting from the cake she’d just cut.
She looked beautiful. My stomach rolls violently.
What I wouldn’t give to have those days back.
No Damien. No pain. No scar. But… then also no Hunter.
No sex in front of mirrors. No sweet, soft, contented love.
No Luca or Arlo. No laughing at the diner.
Or whispering with Luca in the back about the old man, Burt, and his new girlfriend that he keeps bringing in for lunch.
I shake my head. No. For the first time in maybe forever, I’m content. Maybe my life didn’t turn out the way I thought it would. But really, what more do I need? I’m happy, and I’m alive. That’s more than some people get.
Soft footsteps pull my attention, and I sit up straighter, wiping at my eyes again before snapping the photo album closed.
Millie takes one look at me, and her brows draw together. “Hey, Theo. You doin’ alright?”
I start to nod. But then, wasn’t I just thinking about how nice it is to have people to rely on? Shaking my head instead, I croak out, “I’m not sure, really.”
Millie knows a little about my mental health.
She knows enough to know that I take an antidepressant.
She also knows they upset my stomach if I take them without food, so she makes sure I have breakfast every morning.
I love her. But she also makes me miss my own mom. In a soul-deep, heart-wrenching way.
Walking across the room, she sits down next to me, gesturing to the photo album. “What have you got there?”
I hand it over without a word, and after watching my face for a second, she opens it.
The first few photos are of my mom and dad holding a newborn me, their eyes filled with exhaustion and pure joy. They progress. Toddler, young kid, middle schooler. All the way into high school.
I watch as she flips through them all. And when she’s done, she closes the album and hands it back to me. “Thank you for showing that to me.”
“You’re welcome.” I’m not sure if that was the right thing to say, but it feels like the only thing I can say.
Relaxing against the couch, she crosses her legs. “Do you still talk to your parents?”
“No.” The word comes out croaky, so I clear my throat. “I haven’t seen them since I was eighteen.”
“Would you like to share why?”
God, how do I even begin to explain? “Well, when I was eighteen, I started working at this law firm. That’s where I met Damien.” She shifts so she can watch me. “Anyway, they knew pretty much right from the start he was bad news.”
“Mmm,” she muses. “Parents are good at seein’ those things.”
I nod, throat tightening. “And rebellious teens are good at ignoring their parents.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “They can be. That’s all part of growing up and learnin’.”
That’s true enough, I suppose, but still. “I just wish that lesson wouldn’t have come so late.”
“Have you thought about reaching out to them?”
Hunter looks so much like her, and as she stares at me with warm concern in her eyes, I realize that he has her heart too.
I shrug. “I’ve thought about it a lot, actually. But I made such a goddamn mess of my life.”
She frowns. “Language.”
That drags a smile out of me. “I’m sorry.”
She grins back. “You know.” Turning so she can look at me fully, she reaches out and takes my hand. “If I had a son like you, I’d be so very proud. I bet they miss you as much as you miss them.”
My heart squeezes. “Your son is literally the most perfect human in the world.”
She hums. “Yes. And I’m very proud of him too. But we’re not talking about him. We’re talking about you.”
I don’t have any words, so I don’t say anything.
“Do you have a way to contact them?” Millie asks.
I’ve known their number by heart for my entire life.
I’ve always been too afraid to reach out.
They might not even have the same one anymore.
They might not want to hear from me at all.
I was awful to them. We fought, and I yelled.
Told them I knew what I wanted for my life, and what I wanted was Damien.
I wouldn’t be swayed. I wouldn’t be talked out of it.
The last image I have in my head of them is my dad rounding the counter to hug my crying mom as I stormed out of the house and into Damien’s waiting car.
Less than two years later, he was offered a position at another firm, and we left, moving to Cincinnati.
The abuse had already started by then, and I didn’t know how to get away.
And then, to make it worse, I was in a new city.
I didn’t know anyone. All I’d had back then was him and the memory of my dad consoling my crying mother after I ripped her heart out with my words.
Twelve fucking years. I haven’t heard their voices in twelve fucking years. Sure, they tried at first. Called me. Texted. I ignored them. They grew fewer and fewer, and then when Damien married me, he added my phone to his plan, and I lost even that.
“I have their old phone numbers,” I finally say.
Millie pats my thigh. “You should call them.”
“What if they don’t want to hear from me?” I whisper.
Her eyes soften. “I can’t imagine a world where they wouldn’t want to hear from you.”
Tears fill my eyes. “I was so mean to them. My mom, especially.”
She holds her arms open, and I fall into her embrace, needing it too badly to even attempt to act like I don’t.
Millie rubs my back with soothing motions, humming lightly as I cry silently into her shoulder.
“You know,” she says softly near my ear.
“I got in many fights with my momma growing up. That’s the nature of life.
Hunter was a teenager once too, and he got snippy.
We had arguments, but we always came out on the other side.
Kids are meant to give their parents a hard time. It’s how we’re hardwired.”
I sniffle, breathing in deeply as I try to keep myself from openly sobbing.
“And then we wake up one day, and with all the wisdom of a person becoming an adult, we have a ‘they were right’ moment. Maybe not about everything, but about some things.”
Not letting go of me, Millie continues to rub my back. “Oh, if you only knew the number of friends my momma had to warn me about.”
I start to pull away, and she lets me go.
When she’s looking at me, she grins, and I wipe my face. “Momma called ’em fair-weather friends.”
I cock my head. “What does that mean?”
She lets out a tinkling laugh. “It means they only stick around as long as the weather is fair.”
Ah. That makes sense.
“Anyway,” she says, “eventually, you learn those things. It’s a rite of passage, almost. We have to live and learn and make stupid choices.
” She pauses, eyes searching my face. “And sometimes those choices really hurt us. But you’re here, Theo.
You made it out. Don’t let your parents be something that piece of shit man takes from you. ”
My throat threatens to close up, but I force myself to smile. “Language, Millie.”
She grins. “Now you best respect your elders, young man.”
“I will,” I say, my heart warming.
Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to my forehead. It startles me a bit, since I’m not expecting it, and the maternal gesture makes fresh tears well in my eyes. “Call your momma, Theo.”
Nodding, I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I’ll… I’ll try.”
“Do you want another hug?”
I reach for her without a word, and she wraps me up in her arms. It’s really so fucking good to have community again. People to support and who support me. A home.
This town is home. It has been for weeks. Even before I understood that fully, I think. It’s been home since the night I woke up and went outside to find a screaming baby goat. Since I first felt the wind on my face while riding Molls. Since the first time I felt Hunter Lock’s lips on mine.
But more than that, I think these people are home. True home. And I think it’s time to invite my mom and dad back into my life. Into my home.
I can only hope they want to come in.