Saving Alan Chapter 12
Trigger warning: some mentions of self-harm and suicidal ideation
The second week of Alan's program came and went without much ado. Gordon and Scott each came and went for their respective meetings and spent time with Jeff and Alan in between work. Alan was beginning to adjust to both therapy and medication. Overall he was feeling less exhausted than he had been and the spacy feeling of the medication was starting to fade. He was also feeling less emotionally explosive; over the course of the semester he had hated the fact that he was so tearful and reactive to everything. That just wasn't who he was naturally, and he was glad that he was beginning to feel more like himself. Without any negative side effects for the first two weeks, the doctor had decided to increase the dosage of the medication, hoping to take the edge off of some of the panicked and frantic feelings that Alan still experienced which made him want to hurt himself.
Being removed from the many stressors at Wharton's had helped, as had spending more time with his family. But he still felt depressed and burdensome, like nobody wanted him around and they all just hung out with him out of familial obligation. It wasn't a feeling that could just disappear with a little medication. The progress felt painfully slow, but if he took inventory of himself he would admit that he really was feeling healthier all around.
It was the Sunday before his third week of the program, which was also the day before Wharton's was meant to resume after their spring break. While Alan wouldn't be attending classes in person he would still be keeping up with the homework, which was about to pick back up for him.
The biggest news had come just that afternoon. John had called to give them the news that Smith had officially been let go from Wharton's. They had gathered as much information and evidence as they could and informed the local authorities, then called a meeting between the school, the police, Dr. Smith, and Jeff. Smith had been dismissed following a short investigation. He hadn't been a great boon to the school, and while there hadn't been any additional assault allegations, there had been complaints about his methods and abilities as a teacher. They had replaced him with a substitute teacher while they were looking for a permanent replacement.
Knowing that Smith would no longer be his teacher did more to relieve Alan's anxiety and fear than he would like to admit. It was disturbing how much power one man could have over his life. He still had some residual fear, like what would happen if Smith tracked him down after all. He had even had a nightmare about that happening. He didn't want to say anything, though. He knew he was overthinking things and he didn't want to look childish to his father and brothers. Besides, he was safe in Tracy Towers and Smith didn't know where he was at all. And it was a far cry between being a bully of a teacher and actually hunting somebody down in a different state. For now he was just going to commit himself to being happy that he would no longer have to deal with the man as his teacher.
Alan's third week of therapy started on a better note than the other two. He was more comfortable with going to the hospital now, he was even starting to get to know the other students in the program. He still wasn't big on the idea of talking. For the most part he kept as quiet as he felt he could get away with in both group and individual therapy. It helped quite a bit just to hear others tell their stories, some of the things they said resonated with him and he was able to work through those things in his mind. But he didn't feel entirely comfortable contributing his own thoughts quite yet.
It was Friday of that third week that things all came to a head. Alan had woken up in an anxious mood. This was the first time that the rest of the family would be joining Jeff and Alan in family therapy. They would be arriving from Tracy Island just before the therapy session began and staying for the weekend. Alan always felt intimidated when his whole family was around. He had reveled in his father's attention the past couple of weeks, though he felt spoiled to admit that. When his whole family was around they shared stories of their Thunderbirds adventures and they talked about their impressive lives, and Alan felt left out and insignificant. It was easier when there were just one or two brothers around, he felt more included. But they were all so much older than him and so much more accomplished that when they got together, they naturally gravitated toward each other because they were able to relate to each other on another level, and Alan was just sort of left out. He didn't have the same experiences as them, he was just their lame kid brother. He felt like if he could do something incredible with his life, like break records or invent something grand they would take notice of him, because that was the level that the naturally operated on daily.
He had been worried about his family gathering all day. When it came time for art therapy, he felt like he'd hit a brick wall. They were doing drawings in pastels. The smoothness of the pastels against the canvas allowed him to sink into his own mind as he drew. For reasons he didn't quite understand, he had drawn a crude rendition of the mural from his father's office on the island. He didn't know why he drew it; he hated that mural. It was a fairly recent addition. On one side of the scene were the Tracy boys (minus Alan) standing beside the water looking proud next to their father, and for all the world like they belonged there. When his father's office transformed from Jeff Tracy's standard, run of the mill office to the top-secret Thunderbird's command and control center, the mural would also transform. Each Tracy (again, MINUS ALAN) was painted on their own panel of the wall. The panel would spin around to reveal a close-up headshot photo of the coordinating Thunderbird. Since Alan wasn't yet a Thunderbird, there was no Thunderbird photo of Alan, therefore, there wasn't even a panel for him (the wall itself wasn't big enough), therefore he was not depicted in the enormous family photo in his father's office, therefore…well, therefore was he even a part of the Tracy family. He knew it was so ridiculous, but it angered him every time he saw the thing. After all, it's not like it was a mere 8x10 or something, no this was a huge life-sized mural that proudly and prominently took pride of place in the office and expanded over an entire wall. And he wasn't in it. He had always known that his family didn't think he was old enough to be a Thunderbird. Sometimes that translated to not being mature enough, not being careful enough, maybe even not being good enough. And that hurt. But to not be included in the actual Tracy family, to not be good enough to be included beside his own dad and brothers. That didn't hurt, that killed him inside.
And there it was, the crying had come back. He'd been so good about not crying all over in the last couple weeks, but he couldn't stop the tears from pricking at the corners of his eyes and burning in the back of his throat. He didn't want to do this in front of everybody. He tried futilely to pull himself together as he asked to be excused to the restroom. Thankfully the counselor agreed without asking him what was wrong.
He leaned against the wall in the small restroom, but the weight of his body was too much for him to support, and he slid down into a slump on the floor. He wept bitterly as he thought about his father's office.
There were only two other pictures in his father's office. Both of those were family photos as well, both taken shortly before his mother died. He was included in both of those. One was of his dad, his brothers and himself in the back of a convertible. That one he didn't really mind. But the other held painful memories. It was of the five boys standing around their mother at a ski lodge. Jeff had been the one to snap that photo only a day before the avalanche that trapped Alan and his mother under layers of rock and snow for hours and eventually claimed his mother's life. He loved and hated this photo. He didn't hate it as much as the mural, but it did stir up anguish deep inside of him. He remembered the avalanche. Oh, he was extremely young when it happened, and he could only remember bits and pieces, more like feelings and senses than actual memories. But he remembered the pain wracking his body, the fear that gripped him, the loneliness after his mom had stopped talking and responding to him, the painful bite of the cold, he remembered all of that. But mostly he remembered how very desolate things were in the days following his rescue. How his mom had gone away and never come back because of that stupid avalanche, and how he wondered if his family wished Alan had taken her place.
He hated the pictures in his father's office. Loathed them.
A knock at the door startled him out of his reverie. He groaned in irritation, obviously he had been gone more than fifteen minutes. The psych ward had a rule that every patient must be counted every fifteen minutes, they couldn't just shout that they were okay, they had to actually show their face so that the staff could ensure that they were not harming themselves. Alan opened the door to show the knocking staff member that he was okay. He kept his face down so to hide the tears, but he didn't miss the look of pity on the nurse's face. She had reminded him that his afternoon dose of medication was ready at the nurses' station and that his family appointment was about 5 minutes from starting.
He thanked her and asked for another moment. Once the door was closed again he splashed some water over his face and steeled his nerves. He definitely didn't want to face his brothers at this moment. He wished it was just himself and his father. He was suddenly feeling mad at his whole family, but especially mad at Virgil who had painted the cursed mural in the first place. But he embraced the anger, at least it made him feel more in control than the constant tears.
Feeling slightly more resistant than before, he made his way to the nurses' station and then to the family therapy room. His family was already there waiting for him. His brothers, not realizing how furious he currently was with them, all encroaching on his space at once in a giant mob of hugs and hair ruffling. He clenched his jaw and stiffened his shoulders against the attack. If his brothers looked surprised or hurt, well, it was no matter to him.
Sarah Parker welcomed them all inside, taking in the expressions of concern on their faces, and the slightly red and swollen state of Alan's eyes. Alan was generally pretty easy going. He didn't love to talk readily in therapy, but he was usually pretty willing to go with the flow of the conversation if other people were talking. Today was different. Alan was downright refusing to participate. His family seemed baffled, and Alan seemed furious.
"Alan," Sarah ventured, "can you tell us a little bit about what is on your mind today?"
Alan had been stewing for the majority of the appointment at that point, his hurt and anger had been growing. He realized it hadn't been just growing throughout the day, but that it had been growing throughout the course of the eight months that the mural had existed. He pulled out the picture he had drawn in art therapy and confronted his family with it.
"I hate this mural." It was such a simple statement, but the venom that laced his words was stunning.
Virgil was tempted to be insulted and hurt, he had poured his soul into creating that mural, but his father seemed to understand immediately.
"Because you're not in it." Their father sounded defeated. Virgil wanted to object, the mural wasn't finished yet. It looked finished, but the truth was that their father had plans to renovate the office to add an additional panel to that wall. It was not a small bit of construction, as the panel had to open to a shaft that would mechanically carry Alan to the Thunderbird silos. In the meantime, the finished portion of the mural served its purpose to direct the rest of the family to their places. Jeff stopped Virgil from objecting with a look.
Alan stared back at Jeff stonily, but his façade was cracking. He could feel the stupid tears wanting to come back. But he strengthened his resolved and turned them into a sneer.
Sarah, for her part, was confused. She was rewarded with an explanation from John that explained the prominence of the mural without including the importance of the hidden Thunderbird panels. She was honestly stunned, the family had seemed so loving and compassionate of each other, but excluding Alan from the mural didn't make sense to her. In fact, it seemed malicious.
Virgil could hold back no longer, and explained that Jeff was working on plans to expand the office so that another panel could be added, and that Alan's picture was included in the original plans for the mural taking into consideration that another panel would be added within a year of the mural being started. Jeff had wanted Alan to be able to talk through his thoughts and feelings and get them off his chest before they tried to mollify him by telling him that the mural wasn't finished. Obviously the mural represented something deeper about how he saw himself in relation to the family. By telling him that the mural wasn't finished yet it seemed to end the conversation without Alan being able to express himself.
Sarah cottoned onto this, though. "Jeff, do you have more to add?"
"The mural was never finished, it couldn't be finished without you in it, Alan. But that isn't what is important right now. I want to hear from you, in your words, exactly what you were feeling before you knew it wasn't finished. Because there is something even deeper going on than a mural, and that is what we really need to address."
And Alan gave in. Once he started talking he couldn't stop, the words just vomited out of his system uncontrollably. He told them all about how he didn't feel as though he fit in with the family. Dr. Smith had once told him that he was an accident who was unwanted and didn't belong in the family, and that plagued him often. That the other boys were born one to two years apart, but Alan was nearly six years younger than Gordon. And he had always been a screw up while the others were so accomplished in life and successful at everything that they did. He told them all about how he was always messing everything up and letting everybody down. He talked about how he felt like no matter what he did he would never be able to measure up to them. And how he felt left out of the family. He couldn't admit in front of Sarah that he feared that he would have to be a Thunderbird to be a part of the family, and that he felt as though he'd never be good enough to reach that point. But it seemed as though his family had understood the unspoken words.
As usual, it was John who knew just how to respond…by throwing his brothers under the bus. "Alan, you're no more of a screw up than the rest of us. Scott got busted no fewer than a dozen times for drinking and partying when he was in high school. Virgil stole and crashed dad's car. Gordon nearly failed his junior year…. We all went through challenging times, we all screwed up, it's part of learning how to grow up. You don't remember that each of us went through the process of learning and messing up too. I'm pretty sure you're doing better than the rest of us, if I'm honest. Who do you think gave Dad all the grey hairs? I mean, Scott, Virgil, and Gordon were pretty much delinquents, though I was practically perfect." Alan cracked a smile when his father arched an unbelieving eyebrow at that last part.
Scott glared at John, but continued, "Alan, you're younger than us, you haven't had as many years to live your life or accomplish things as we have. But we are all so proud of you. You're an incredible person. I've been jealous for years over your ability to program computers and work with machinery. You have raw natural talent and we can't wait to see what amazing things you do with it. Not because you have to, not because you have anything to live up to, but simply because we know you and we know that you are going to do great things.
Gordon couldn't stay silent, "Alan, how could you think that you don't belong in this family? You've always been my partner in crime!" It was true, Alan was the youngest and got away with so much just by being cute when he was younger, and as he grew he added his own skills to Gordon's pranking and general mischief. When the two of them teamed up the whole family shuddered with dread.
Jeff piped in before Gordon could conceive an idea for a spontaneous prank to prove his point, "You weren't a mistake. We didn't plan for a fifth child, but when you were born we knew immediately that you were everything that the family was missing. We were surprised when your mom told us that she was pregnant with you. But so happy. Your mom and I used to read and sing to you before you were even born. And when I held you in my hands for the first time I thought that I would melt right into your eyes. The mural isn't complete yet, Al. Because the family wouldn't be complete without you. Ever. You don't have to win our approval, because we love everything about you just when you are yourself."
Alan felt vulnerable and exposed for having shared all of that with his family, but he also felt an enormous burden lifted off his shoulders. Still, it helped immensely to put his heart at ease when Virgil showed him the plans for the wall expansion and the rest of the mural as soon as they got home. So they hadn't been saying it just to make him feel better, the mural really wasn't complete.
After that Alan was more open in therapy. It didn't fix everything, he still had a long way to go. It had only been three weeks, his medication wasn't leveled off yet, he still had moments where he felt absolutely miserable and other moments where he frantically searched for something to hurt himself with. But things were definitely getting better.
It was Tuesday of his fourth week when Alan had his next therapy breakthrough. Jeff had flown down to Wharton's to hand in his completed homework and pick up his new assignments. That meant that he would be pushing the clock to pick up Alan from the program on time. Alan was meant to wait outside the hospital at their predetermined pick up spot. Jeff was hoping to be on time, but flying to Massachusetts and back in a couple hours was going to be tough.
Alan had gone to his individual therapy session with his counselor that day and he talked about a nightmare he'd had the night before. It was about the day that his mom had died. Alan rarely said anything about it, but he remembered the avalanche. He had been trapped with his mother, and though he didn't understand it at the time, he had seen the moment his mom had died. He really had more sensory memories than actual memories. He remembered the noise of the avalanche, the biting cold, the darkness that surrounded him. It was why he still hated storms to this day, and if he thought about it, it was the storm the night before that probably triggered the nightmare. What really terrified him, though, was the fear that his family wished that it was he who had died that day instead of his mother.
He still felt as though he was a burden to his family. And this memory was at the very base of that feeling. They always shared such great memories of their mother, but Alan couldn't remember anything about her. He sometimes wondered if they would be happier or better off if he had died that day.
His doctor listened to him and talked to him about cognitive distortions. That sometimes something happens and we interpret it entirely differently from everybody else around us. She encouraged Alan to try to bring this feeling up at family therapy that week, but Alan knew he wasn't ready to divulge it just yet. He was afraid to hear the answer, and he also felt bad about bringing it up.
It was swimming around his mind after he left the program that day. He moved almost robotically down to his meeting place. As he waited for his father to show up he was lost deep in thought. He wasn't even sad about the thought of it, he was just feeling contemplative. Could it be that he would fit in with the family better if Lucy was still alive?
Alan was so lost in thought that he barely registered somebody coming to stand behind him, and when he finally snapped to attention it was too late. A hand over his mouth and the pinch of a needle in the side of his neck were all he felt before he was engulfed in darkness.