I am exhausted. All the time. Updates only take place on the struggle bus. Apologies.
"Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make this garden grow. All it takes is a rake and a hoe and a piece of fertile ground. Inch by inch, row by row…"
"What are you singing, Taddy bear?" Toby asked.
The boy looked up from the play mat. "I'm singing a garden song to Ellie." He turned back to his sister, taking her hand and slowly swinging it. "Inch by inch, row by row, someone bless these seeds I sow. Someone warm them from below, til the rain comes pouring down…"
"Where did he learn a song about gardening?" He asked Happy.
"Allie. I think. She likes those weird kiddie songs."
Toby bumped his hip against hers. "I think you like them too and are glad that our kids get to experience them."
"Stop psychoanalyzing me, or the sexting stops."
"Nothing to psychoanalyze here," Toby said. "Better?" His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it, then looked back to Happy with a smirk. "Nice."
She smirked back. "It's so rare the four of us just get to be home. I never would have imagined just having days where we can just stand here and talk while the kids play."
"Well, I do wish we had better circumstances," Toby said. "Rather than going back to little jobs that are menial compared to what we have been doing. I know we have to do what we have to do while this investigation is going on, but I'm not used to being idle like this. If I didn't have you and Tad and Ellie…"
Happy put her hand over his. "Stop it."
"You know where I'd be. Don't pretend you don't."
Happy opened her mouth to say something, but Toby furrowed his brow suddenly and looked over to his son. "Taddy?"
"Yes, daddy?"
"That song says they want someone to warm up the garden from below the ground?"
"Someone warm them from below til the rain comes pouring down."
"I knew it." He snapped his fingers and looked at Happy. "That lady at that PTA meeting was right. They are slowly easing satan worship into schools."
Happy rolled her eyes.
Toby grinned back, jumping in surprise when his phone rang. "It's Walter," he said.
"Ugh," Happy said, "I don't want to be called out to a job today."
"Should I ignore him?"
Happy sighed. "I want to say yes, but no, answer it."
Toby squeezed her hand before putting the phone to his ear. "Go for the Tobes."
"Toby."
"Yeah, Walt. What's up?"
There was a silence. Toby cocked his head. "Walt?"
The silence lingered. He could hear Walter's breathing through the phone. Then the younger man spoke. "We need help. I need help."
"So…you're confusing your feelings for your sister and your feelings for Florence."
Walter nodded. "I mean, I don't…" he furrowed his brow. "Paige is the one that noticed it. I don't know that I see it. But I see the look in her eyes sometimes, and…she believes I do. And that concerns me."
"If we're being completely candid here, I've seen signs of it. I'm just trying to work on nosiness and butting in when I'm not asked. And it makes sense to a degree. She's filled the same basic role in Sylvester's life as Megan did. So now you're associating her with Megan, which with the current state of your brain, isn't a surprise."
"The current state of my brain?"
"You also alluded to personal issues with Paige. I'm assuming that includes both communication and your sex life. That and your disassociating, your headaches, and your frequent confusion, I think it's incredibly likely that you are suffering from some degree of a TBI – a traumatic brain injury."
"I know what TBI stands for."
"Okay. Not the takeaway here, but okay."
"I haven't injured myself recently."
Toby drew in a deep breath. "Walt, you know that they can worsen over time. You've had some terrible head injuries over the years. When you went over the cliff, when you fell down the stairs, and when we crashed in the mountains. I think maybe you hurt your head just enough this last time, the day Tilly was born, to have all of that start impacting your cognition."
Walter shook his head. "My brain is the best tool I have."
"Which is why it's important to monitor this. You're not going to die from it, at least, not probably. But it may affect your life long term. Any difficulties you are having now, you'll have to learn to adapt to them. And those affecting your marriage, well, Paige will have to adapt, too."
"She's been upset…insulted, I think. About our...intimate life."
"If you've injured your temporal lobe or hypothalamus, it can both increase or decrease your libido. Yours has decreased?"
"Maybe. I'm just…"
Toby could see his complexing tinging pink. "Walt, nothing leaves this room."
"I'm not as focused. Not as interested. We haven't…we haven't done anything in a while. She's frustrated. She thinks I'm not attracted to her anymore. That's wrong. I am, it's just…I can't get into it. I'm not enthusiastic. I want to be. But I'm always tired or confused."
"Focus and motivation issues are consistent with a brain injury. You experiencing any physical limitations?"
"Not in the way I think you mean. I can, she can just tell I'm not enthusiastic about it. So we don't. She can't really get into it if she doesn't believe I am. And we're fighting. We're snapping at each other. In public. In private. In front of Amber. I know she's upset that Ralph isn't checking in as much as he used to, but that's always been something we've coped with together. I miss him, too."
"I want to be able to blame all of that on your trauma. But to me that sounds a lot like your typical communication failure."
Walter frowned.
Toby shrugged. "I'm just calling it like I see it. It wouldn't be the first time you guys started bottling things up only to have it explode later. Just don't let it explode like it did in 2018. You have a kid now. You can't just walk out of each other's lives."
"I don't want to walk out of her life."
"I know you don't. Just don't let yourself fall back into that pattern."
Walter sighed. "How do we handle…the other thing?"
"Honestly, take advantage of the moments when you do want to do it. Talk to her. Tell her what I told you – or I can, if you'd like – and any moment you start thinking those thoughts, commit to it. Because your interest could go away like," he snapped his fingers, "that." His expression softened at the worry on Walter's face. "Walt, the day you guys got back together, I told Sly that I always knew you would, even the night you broke up. Because I know you guys. You're great together when you work at it. But when you don't talk, you crumble. Just tell her what I told you. She'll understand. And if she doesn't, she'll try until she does."
His voice was quiet. "I hope so."
Any fears Walter had evaporated the moment he saw the look on his wife's face when he gave her Toby's diagnosis. Everything else came spilling out, about how he was feeling extra protective of Florence, how he'd been hiding his confusion and dizziness and headaches like a wild animal hid sickness, and how he thought his lack of sexual interest was tied to whatever was happening in his brain. He didn't bring up what Toby said about communicating better. He felt it was better to show that instead.
"Oh, Love," she said, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand. "I didn't mean to be insensitive."
"You can react just as I can," he said. "I know you must have been confused. I know I've been angrier lately, less present. I want to get better at it. I want you to feel as loved and desired as you should."
"Don't worry about me," she said. "Let me take care of you, okay? You're hurt. Your healing, if that's possible, comes first. I'll talk to Toby tomorrow, find out what your limits are for work and stuff. Sexual stuff is officially on the back burner. Please don't push yourself. You could get hurt worse. And that wouldn't be good, because," she said, resting her forehead against his, "Amber and I kinda like you."
