February 2013

It had been twenty-five days since Maya had died, and Marshall was on complete radio silence. After the funeral, he had made no effort to contact Louis or anyone else in the band, and they were worried. He had ignored every text, phone call, and email thrown his way. Louis figured he'd need time but was worried by the complete lack of anything at all. And he worried about his nephews too. Mateo especially who had lost the first person who had ever loved him and the first person he had ever loved. He had been very close to his mother.

So, when Maya's would-be birthday rolled around, Louis and Lyla decided they'd be proactive and go over to Marshall's home, leaving Molly and Ben in the capable hands of August and Anna.

The cab dropped them off in front of Marshall's house and they let themselves in the front door with the key Marshall had given them. At the top of the stairs, though, they knocked and waited. Marshall answered after the third knock. Realizing who it was, he let the door swing open and left them behind to join Mateo on the couch. Matty's eyes shot open when he saw his aunt and uncle, and went running to greet them, happier to see them than he had ever been before.

The living room lights were off, the only glow coming from the television, and clothes and dishes were strewn throughout the living room and kitchen. It was stuffy and smelled faintly of dirty diapers and something distinctly male. Marshall had certainly seen better days himself, a scraggily beard growing strong and the bags under his eyes dark and defined.

"Turnin' on the light," Louis warned as Lyla closed the door behind her with one hand, hugging Mateo with the other.

Marshall didn't seem bothered.

"Where're the boys?" Louis asked and Marshall waved in the general direction of his bedroom.

"I show you," Mateo offered, leading his aunt towards the room while Louis took the armchair across from Marshall.

"I'm takin' you outta here for a couple hours," Louis stated.

Marshall groaned, "I'm not goin' out, Louie." His voice was grizzled and tired.

"Just a coupla drinks. You need to get out. Lyla will watch the boys."

"I don't want any drinks."

"Then food. Coffee. Fresh air. I don't care. You don't have a choice, Marshall. We're all worried about you."

"You can all fuck off," Marshall bit back, shutting off the TV and sitting up.

"Marshall," Louis repeated, standing up. "Get dressed. Let's go."

His brother stood to argue but didn't seem to have the energy and stormed off to get dressed as Lyla and Mateo returned to the living room.

"They okay?" Louis asked.

Lyla nodded, "they look fine. I'll clean up a bit and spend some time with Mateo. How does that sound?" she asked her nephew.

"Yeah!" he replied excitedly.

A moment later, Marshall returned, messed up Mateo's hair, saying, "later, Matty," and led the way out. Louis kissed Lyla quickly and followed after his brother.

Lyla sat down with Mateo, "how are you feeling, Mateo?"

"I'm hungry," he replied cheerfully.

"What would you like to eat?"

"Pizza!"

Lyla took note of the numerous pizza boxes around the apartment. "Well, let's see what we have in the fridge first. I think you and daddy have been having a lot of pizza lately, right?"

"We love pizza!"

"I'm sure you do," she chuckled. "But let's see if we can get something different."

With Mateo following closely behind her, she scoured the fridge and cupboards but only managed to find cereal, milk, and baby formula.

"We need to get some groceries, I think."

"Da says we get gosrees tomorrow."

"Let's see if we can get something today."

"But Luke and Tom are too little," he said matter-of-factly.

"Well, I remember buying the twins a nice stroller, so they could go out even though they are little." She went to the storage closet to search through the boxes with Mateo following close behind, one little hand on her leg. The stroller was folded up in the corner of the closet. She pulled it out carefully and unfolded it to check that it was the one she wanted then searched a little longer for the baby carrier, thinking about how she was going to get all three children out at the same time in a place made of stairs. "Mateo," she said, folding the stroller back up, "I'm going to put this stroller downstairs, but I'll be right back."

"No!" Mateo screamed, beginning to cry in an instant. "Don't go, auntie!"

Lyla was startled by his abruptness. "Sweetheart, I can't take Lucas and Tomas downstairs at the same time I take the stroller."

Mateo simply cried in response, shaking his head and sitting on the floor, "no, auntie."

She sighed and put the stroller back in the closet, "okay, love. We won't go. Come here." Mateo stood with his face red and full of tears. "What's wrong, Mateo? Auntie isn't going to leave you." She got some toilet paper out of the bathroom to wipe his face and blow his nose as he hiccupped.

"I-" he sniffled, "I want you to stay with me."

"I will, don't worry." She took a deep breath, "alright, let's have pizza one last time. While we wait, can you help me clean up?"

With downturned lips, he nodded.

By the time the pizza arrived, they were finished tidying (except for taking the garbage out, Mateo having another near-meltdown at the thought) and sitting on the sofa, watching a movie. Mateo followed close behind, hardly letting his hand leave her, before sitting at the kitchen table as instructed for a slice of pizza off of a plate rather than straight from the box like he informed Lyla he and his dad usually did. But as Lyla sat down, one of the twins began to cry, slowly followed by the other. Mateo abandoned his pizza and followed his aunt into the room while offering his help.


Louis took Marshall into a bar and grill in Manhattan – somewhere far away from home. His brother wasn't in a talking mood and only communicated through grunts if he really had to. They sat at a bar table in the middle of the loud restaurant and waited to be served. "Couple of Guinnesses," Louis told the waitress.

"No," Marshall said, "I don't want to drink. Just get me a coke."

"A Guinness and a coke then," Louis amended. "You sure you don't want anythin' harder?"

"I'm fine."

Louis had half-expected Marshall to be bottle-feeding himself an endless supply of beer while bottle-feeding his sons formula, but he wasn't. "How are things?"

Marshall was irritated, "things are shit, aren't they? Are you buyin'?"

"Yeah, I'm buyin'."

When the waitress returned, Marshall ordered a surplus of hot wings and a double bacon cheeseburger complete with every topping under the sun and a side of curly fries. Louis ordered a burger for himself as well.

"I know why you and Lyla came today," Marshall said once the waitress had set down their drinks and taken their orders. "I wish you'd just let it alone."

"We tried it your way," Louis said, "but you didn't bother to get back to anyone. If you'd've answered a call or text, maybe I would've let it be. But we were worried about you. And worried about the boys."

"We're fine. The boys are fine."

"Your house is a mess and—"

"I know your wife is up there cleanin' it up. It's not a mess no more."

"That's beside the point—"

"Louie, I just wanted to be alone tonight-" He put his hand to his face and breathed deeply. "I would've taken her out tonight. For a break. But they haven't even been bad. It's like they know."

"Probably do."

"Matty's been a mess. Won't leave my side. He's probably drivin' Lyla crazy right now. Good luck to her if she tries to use the toilet. The twins don't do nothin'. They're so easy to take care of and that's more frustratin' for some reason."

"If they were difficult, you'd have somethin' to focus on."

"Yeah," Marshall nodded, considering, "yeah, you're probably right. Now, I just sit watchin' TV with Matty all day, stoppin' occasionally to change or feed the twins or bring 'em into the livin' room, Mateo followin' me all the while. And most of the time I'm thinkin' about her and how easy it'd be for her and how she would've hated how easy I have it."

"You need to get back into some sort of routine. If not for yourself, then for the boys. Get back to work; I could take the boys durin' the day. When we go on tour—"

Marshall scoffed, "I'm not goin' on tour, Lou. My kids just lost their mother. What're you thinkin'?"

Louis figured his brother might say something to that effect, "fine, Marshall, but the fact still stands: you need to take the boys out. Turn some lights on. And take the time now to unwind. You sure you don't want a drink?"

"Christ, Lou, no. Think about it: I'm a heavy drinker, had prostate cancer, and lost the mother of my children. Sound like anyone else you know? I'll give you a hint: we once shared the same face."

"Da? That's not—That's different."

"How different Lou? When mam died, da drank even more and then he abandoned his family, and eventually died from liver cancer. Don't think the drinkin' helped. I've been followin' his footsteps too long and I'm not goin' to abandon my family 'cause I drank myself into a stupor to forget her. Fuck, I might be a depressed loser right now, but I'm not doin' that."

The waitress set down the food quietly, clearly uncomfortable with the tone of her customers' conversation, and disappeared promptly.

"You know she thought she was gonna die? Yeah, the night she went into labour as they were loadin' her into the ambulance, she told Matty she loved him and told me to take care of them – the boys. In that moment, she was convinced she was gonna die but didn't. And I keep playin' that moment over in my head as if those were the last words she ever said. Just over and over. I'm goin' to take care of them, 'course. But what if she had that feelin' before she actually died? She was tryin' to dial me but died before she could. Was she goin' to tell me the same thing? Or was she completely clueless, ignorin' the feelin' 'cause she was wrong the time before? Maybe she was callin' to tell me to pick up fuckin' milk." He worked angrily at a hot wing as he continued. "I'm so fuckin' mad at myself. If I didn't go to work – if I ignored her and demanded that I stay at home, at least for a couple of days, maybe she'd still be here."

Louis kept silent, eating his burger and drinking his beer. Marshall had a lot that he needed to get off his chest and it was best to let him say what he needed to say. Maybe it would make him feel better.

Marshall was quiet for a little while, taking time to eat. "Thanks for this," he said quietly. "Ran out of groceries last week and have been eatin' pizza ever since. Preparin' for your wife to chew me out." He finished off his basket of chicken wings and gulped down some of his drink before moving onto the fries. "Maya'd've been thirty-two today. She was too young. Do you think I robbed her of anythin'?" It was painful to say her name.

"No," Louis said automatically. "What do you mean?"

"The girl was gorgeous. Could've been a supermodel. And she was one of the more confident people I'd ever met. But then I got her pregnant and she was stuck with me. When we were more casual, she was goin' to parties with bigshots every chance she got. With me, she changed and stayed in more, and had a short stint as a fuckin' porn star. I just think if it weren't for me, she'd've done somethin' bigger."

"No," Louis said. "She wanted to be a mother and loved you. She was in her late twenties when she got with you, yeah? If she was tryin' for somethin' bigger, it would've happened before she got with you."

"She never wanted to be a mother until she was one," Marshall amended. "She hated the idea of kids at first. I think she only ended up likin' it because I liked the idea of havin' kids." He shook his head, "never mind. I don't want to think about it anymore. I've been thinkin' about it non-stop since she died. Let's just… what's up with you and Lyla?"

Louis was caught off-guard by the abrupt change, "what do you mean?"

"You guys are different than you used to be."

"What do you mean?" Louis repeated stupidly.

"I mean," Marshall replied, "you're not all over each other like you were before. Maya mentioned it to me a few months back, think at Halloween. You guys weren't makin' out or anythin' in front of people, but you'd always be touchin' in some way without even thinkin' about it, but she noticed you both find reasons to not be next to each other, usually usin' the kids as an excuse."

"We don't—"

"Maybe it's not an intentional thing, but you do. She still holdin' that Sophie thing over your head?"

"Nothin' happened with her," Louis said moodily. "There's nothin' to hold over my head."

Marshall rolled his eyes, "then what is it?"

"I don't know," Louis admitted, taking a swig of his beer. "We're just not that close anymore. Not naturally, anyway. Think it's been since Molly was born. It's hard to be close when you have a couple of young kids wreaking havoc."

"Don't blame the fuckin' kids." Marshall was glad to have something that took his mind off of mourning, "you guys have the money to keep a nanny and could if the kids were the problem."

"Why's it matter to you?"

"Because you're my brother and, through law, she's my sister. And I need somethin' else to focus on."

"I'm not lyin' when I say I don't know."

"When's the last time you fucked?"

"Marshall—" Louis began to protest.

"Louis," Marshall mocked. "You brought me here to talk and I talked. It's your turn. If you don't want to, then pay so I can go home."

Louis ran his hand through his hair, "you're a fuckin' pain" to which Marshall shrugged. "The last time was maybe a month and a half ago 'round New Year's, but it wasn't anythin'. Lyla'd kill me if she knew I was sayin' this to you."

"Won't say a word," Marshall said, making the sign of the cross.

"Yeah, well… we mostly have sex because one of us needs a release and the other's willin' to do it. It's not because there's passion there. And you say not to blame the kids, but the last time we did somethin' because we needed each other was after we got back from Asia and before Molly was born. Then it wasn't until Fall when we had sex again, and we've just been goin' through the motions."

"Shit, didn't think it was that bad. Wouldn't've noticed if… Maya hadn't said anythin'." He finished off his burger and washed it down with the rest of the coke. "I'm takin' Matty to a therapist tomorrow to help him figure things out since I'm at a loss. Maybe you guys need to see one too."

"How're you payin' for therapy?"

"I'll start workin' again. Soon. I have my savings. Maya had some I didn't know about too, so I'm usin' what I need right now."

"Where'd she get savings from?"

Marshall grinned, "you know she had her ways," but then lost his smile almost immediately, thinking about her. "She worked as a cam girl online while we were on tour and saved mostly all of it. Only found out when the company tried contactin' her about gettin' back into it."

Louis shook his head, "she was one of a kind."

"Yeah. But this isn't about her. Try counsellin' or somethin'. Marriage might be an idiot institution, but you two are different. And you have kids who're gonna pick up on these things."

They talked for awhile longer before deciding to stop for groceries and head back to Marshall's. He wouldn't admit it, but Marshall did feel better after spending some time with adults away from the house.


Marshall led the way up the stairs to his home, unlocked the door, and stepped in. The lights were on with the window in the living room opened a crack and the pizza boxes, clothes, and dishes had all been cleaned. There was a faint lemon scent from the floor cleaner. Louis and Marshall took their shoes off and went searching for Lyla and Mateo. In a small place, it doesn't take long. They were on Marshall's bed, Mateo bathed and in his pajamas in a deep sleep while Lyla watched the television on mute with subtitles. When she saw the brothers, she smiled and turned the TV off before sneaking out of the bed and closing the door behind her.

"Thanks," Marshall began.

"What on Earth have you been doing?" she cut in angrily.

Marshall didn't have anything to say and waited for her to elaborate.

"Why haven't you gone grocery shopping? No one should be feeding their child pizza every day!"

"We got groceries," he offered. "Told you she was goin' to bring that up," he murmured to Louis.

"Of course, I am! I get that you're hurt and you have the right to be, but you can't just go through the motions with your kids, especially not someone like Mateo who is so sensitive. He picks up on things too easily and is terrified if you try to leave him for even one second."

"Yeah, I know. I'm with the kid every day. We're workin' on it."

"You could have ordered some fucking groceries then. Literally all you have is baby formula, milk, and cereal. That's not even enough for a balanced breakfast!"

"Lyla," Louis cut in, "we've got the groceries and we've talked about it. He's on it."

"You're not the only one who misses her, you know," Lyla continued, mostly ignoring her husband. "But she'd be so pissed if she saw how you were acting."

"Louie, take your wife home before I start sayin' things to make it worse," Marshall said before storming off to join his sons.

"You need to lay off him," Louis demanded, "and avoid bringin' Maya into it."

"I need to bring Maya into it otherwise he doesn't realize what he's doing."

"You think he doesn't realize? Of course he does. All he's thinkin' about is what she'd do or what he could've done. He feels guilty for her death and it's all he thinks about. He doesn't need you addin' to it."

"He should feel guilty," Lyla returned.

Louis was speechless. He never knew her to be cruel, especially not to family.

"He should not have gone to work the day after she got back from a three-day stint in the hospital. She was weak and in pain. No matter what she said, he shouldn't have gone. She would still be here if he had stayed. He's the reason she's—"

"Shut up," Louis interrupted rather loudly. "He can hear you and you're spewin' a whole lot of shit that you're goin' to regret later. I don't even know what to say to you. He is my brother and he just lost the only woman who he truly cared for and loved. If it were you in the ground, d'you think I'd just be able to carry on and be strong for the kids? 'Cause I don't think I would, especially not less than a month later. And I wouldn't care to hear the opinions of some… righteous bitch on your birthday! I—" He cut himself off, too angry to speak, and stormed out of his brother's house to make his way home alone.

Lyla stood stupefied with tears stinging her eyes. Louis had never called her anything negative before, even when they really got on each other's nerves. She had grown very close to Maya, even closer than she had ever been with Lizzy, especially now that they rarely saw each other, and she missed her so much. Lyla stopped going to boxing altogether. It was different going alone when she knew that her partner would be back after some post-partum R&R. If she went alone now, she would just be doing something that she and her friend used to only do with one another. Maya always made her feel better about herself as a woman, as a wife, and as a mother because she never took bullshit from anyone. And she was gone because of some stupid post-pregnancy complication. In the twenty-first century. It was infuriating. And she needed to blame someone.

She sat on the edge of the sofa and began sobbing into her hands, thinking of all the things that Maya wouldn't get to see: Mateo's upcoming first day of school or his graduation way down the line; Tomas and Lucas' first steps or first words; starting work as an event planner and flourishing; opening a successful firm like she had wanted. It was like her life was finally where she had wanted it to be, but the cruel, cold universe had other plans. How was it fair?

A few moments passed, and she saw no sign of the tears stopping, but she felt the space on the sofa next to her sink down. She glanced through her fingers to see Marshall leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. "I'm sorry," she cried. "Louis is right. I shouldn't have said any of that. I'm sorry."

"You miss her. I get it," he said simply.

She cried until she decided she'd had enough and took deep shaking breaths to steady herself. "It's not your fault," she whispered.

"It is a bit," Marshall disagreed.

"No," she argued. "You are pig-headed and stubborn, and Maya was the same. It was easier to agree with her than spend hours arguing. I would have done the same."

He shrugged, clearly not convinced.

"Has Mateo said why he doesn't want to be left alone? He didn't seem too affected by you leaving but just the idea of being alone."

"No, he hasn't said, but it's probably from bein' alone while his mother lay dead in the bathroom, even if he didn't know." He spoke a little harsher than intended and took a deep breath, "I don't know how long he was alone. I think he just needs to see that the person who is takin' care of him is goin' to be okay. You're right that he's a sensitive kid. Strange for havin' me and Maya for parents."

"I didn't even think of that. Poor little Mateo."

Marshall nodded, "he'll get through it. Bringin' him to therapy tomorrow and for every Monday until he starts feelin' like himself again. Hopefully he'll be okay for September."

"Oh," Lyla said simply, "good."

"I told Lou that you two should probably seek some counsellin'. Maya brought it up a few months ago. You're not like you used to be."

Lyla made a movement like a shrug but said nothing.

"When we see the doc tomorrow, I'll see if she's got any suggestions."


Lyla returned home to a quiet house, most of the lights turned off. It wasn't all that late, but she knew Louis was probably fuming in bed as he worked on some song or answering band emails or something else to calm himself down. Ben and Molly would be in bed, and August was most likely in his room, hopefully sans Anna. She couldn't get used to the idea of him growing up in a sexual way, especially when he had always seemed so innocent and naïve. Besides, he had school in the morning. He was nearing the end of his core education and would soon be sitting the SATs; he would also be graduating from Juilliard in the next year after studying at the school full time for five years. The kid was working on compositions right and left, writing theses, and playing in a band in his spare time on campus. He was working on polishing music for an album release as well as working part-time at the station on site. Lyla wondered how he found time for it all and a girlfriend. She supposed it helped that Anna was trying to dance her way into a spot with the New York Ballet Company; they were both extremely busy and it worked for them.

She tidied the dishes in the kitchen and organized things here and there, killing time so that she wouldn't have to face Louis, but eventually she had to go to sleep to be ready for work. If Louis didn't want to sleep next to her, he could take the spare room. Though she knew she was in the wrong, she felt defiant as she checked in on the sleeping Ben and Molly. But as soon as she walked into her bedroom and saw Louis with his newly-obtained reading glasses sitting on the bed, reading something on his laptop, her defiance dissipated completely. She felt immediately small.

"Hey," he said, which somehow made her feel worse despite its friendly intent.

"Hi," she replied almost shyly before disappearing into the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed. When she exited the bathroom in her robe, Louis was still on his laptop and glanced up at her before shutting it down and setting his glasses on the side table.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a moment of Lyla awkwardly glancing over at Louis repeatedly while she dressed in her PJs.

"No, I was an ass," she sighed before sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one callin' you a bitch and you're the one sayin' sorry?"

"We both said things we didn't mean."

He nodded, "that's right. But I'm sorry too."

"Marshall says we need therapy."

"Yeah, he told me the same thing."

"When did he become such a proponent for therapy?"

"He's probably seein' things in a different way right now."

Lyla pulled the covers over her, "do you want to? Go to therapy, I mean."

"Do you think we need to?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "If we know there's a problem, can't we just figure it out ourselves?"

"Louis, it took Marshall pointing whatever this is out for us to even start talking about it. I don't think we can solve it ourselves. I think getting a therapist is a great idea."

"Alright," he replied, sinking down into their bed and reaching to turn off the light. "I'll look into it in the mornin'."