Chapter 16: I'm Truly Sorry
After the appointment, all three kids sat in the third row of the Enclave. Oliver was engrossed with a game on his phone, and Finley was staring out the window. Bronwyn was tracing the outlines of pictures in her coloring book absentmindedly. She had a sense that the session ended well, and she liked seeing Amelia and Owen smile and hold hands on the way to the car. Even so, the purpose and result of the session – or any therapy session she'd ever attended for that matter – weren't clear to her five-year-old brain.
"Finley?" Bronwyn leaned toward her eldest brother sitting next to her. "Are we all fixeded now?"
Chuckling, Finley offered a rare smile and responded, "Therapy doesn't work that way, Bronwyn."
"Then, how does it work?" Bronwyn inquired.
"People go to therapy to talk about their feelings and about things in their life that are hard. Then they understand life better. That kind of stuff…but people aren't like cars. You don't go to therapy to get fixed; you go to talk and think. You go to learn and understand life better," Finley explained.
"So, to get fixeded," Bronwyn nodded.
Finley drew in a breath and smirked, "Yep."
"Then are we fixeded?" she repeated.
After sighing, Finley offered, "We're better. You'll have to ask Mom or Dad if we're finished for now. It's up to them."
Whispering, Bronwyn wondered, "Why was Daddy almost leaking little tears when he tolded us he was sorry?"
Finley had his own understanding, but deferred to his parents, "You need to ask Dad that question."
"Daddy?" Bronwyn bellowed.
Finley put his hand over her mouth and grumbled, "Not now, Bronwyn. In private when we get home."
"Oh, ok," Bronwyn agreed.
"Yes, Bronwyn?" Owen answered.
"Nuffing," Bronwyn shared. "I forgotted."
Owen chuckled and turned to Amelia with relief and joy, "How are you feeling? I feel like a huge weight was lifted off of me. I understood my decision's impact in a whole new way."
"Wonderful," Amelia smirked and glanced quickly at her husband. "You seem more buoyant." The family arrived home and piled out of the car. Owen, puzzled, studied Amelia for a few seconds attempting to discern how she was feeling. She did not seem sad or angry. Her demeanor wasn't flat or emotionless. She responded to his question with the same tone of voice she used when she picked the dogs up at the groomer or when she spoke to a teacher at Back to School night. When she caught his eye, he smiled and proceeded into the house.
Inside, Lynne was playing on the floor with the twins. Gwen carefully stacked blocks and Ella knocked the towers over. The twins found their shared endeavor hilarious. Owen worked his way onto the floor to join in the fun. Once he lay in front of them on his stomach, both twins offered slobbery kisses. Owen rolled onto his back after the second kiss. He held Gwen above him and made motor noises as he moved her around.
"Ella! Dada, Ella," Ella insisted as she pulled on Owen's shirt sleeve. Owen rotated between the two girls continuing the sound effects. Then, combining exercise with fatherhood, he arranged the girls so one stood by his left knee and the other beside his right. He did sit ups, one to the left then one to the right, blowing a raspberry on a tummy or offer a quick kiss as he reached either twin.
"Impressive abs," Amelia purred as she walked by the scene with a wink. On his way toward his knees, Owen chuckled and let himself fall to the floor. The girls tackled him, attempting to blow raspberries on his stomach but not quite mastering the technique.
Later that night, Owen and Amelia passed each other in the hallway. Owen was just about to read to Bronwyn and Amelia was exiting Oliver's room. "See you downstairs?" Owen suggested gently. Amelia grinned and nodded.
Soon, holding tightly to the railing but not using crutches or a cane, Owen descended the staircase. He hobbled over to the couch and sat down beside his wife, resting his arm around her shoulders. A comfortable silence cradled them as they each let their thoughts wander.
"This is so nice," Owen hummed peacefully as he turned to kiss her.
"Can I ask you something?" Amelia wondered with a steady, intentional voice.
Owen looked at her out of the corner of his eye and softly chuckled, "Of course."
With a gentle, thoughtful tone that conveyed that her question had been stirring deep inside, Amelia inquired, "At therapy today, at the end…were you just moved by the moment? Or is the feeling of regret sustained – did your apology come from deep inside? Are you… are you sorry at your core or were your words simply accompanying an epiphany in the moment?"
"Uh…" Owen leaned back after blowing air upward from his lower lip. The large, open and airy floorplan of the great room, dining room and kitchen suddenly felt like a small, dark, dank cave. Silence hung in the air as Owen sensed the authenticity of his apology was being questioned.
After a minute or two, Amelia clarified, "No judgment. My questions aren't meant to sound critical or as if I doubt your sincerity, truly."
Sputtering, Owen responded, "Wow, Mia… I… uh… I'm not sure how to respond. I haven't analyzed my apology using your paradigm." He wondered if, in her estimation, an apology that had been fully considered over time somehow meant more than one that resulted from a spontaneous epiphany.
Amelia looked toward the lake, unable to see the water as darkness filled the night. She thought to herself, He doesn't understand the nuance I'm trying to describe.
Flatly and calmly, she offered, "Let me rephrase. Had you been considering your regret from deep in your soul or were the words an authentic and meaningful commentary as you began to reflect on the revelation in the moment? Where are you in the process?"
"You're asking if I had been considering an apology before therapy or if it came to me while we were there," Owen attempted to restate.
Amelia grimaced, "Basically, but with a little more nuance and complexity."
"My apology, Amelia…" Owen began slowly, "was authentic and from the heart. When I… as I listened… hearing the ways that my decision impacted each of you… As I listened," Owen attempted to continue as he choked up and put his hands over his face, nearly hyperventilating. After a few breaths, he tried again, "I heard pain today. Pain that I caused my family, the people I love most in this world. I listened and also listened to what was not said, and I was convicted. I take full responsibility for the decision to deploy, Amelia, and today, I encountered the true consequences. I realized how, in one way, my decision and yearning were self-focused even though my life isn't all about me. I had a choice about whether or not to go. I had a choice and I chose for myself rather than my family."
Utterly breaking down, Owen leaned into his wife's shoulder, clung to her tightly, and cried. Amelia stroked his newly restored wavy hair as she pursed her lips and slowly closed her eyes. Her own feelings ranged widely from relief, compassion, anger, exhaustion, exasperation, and love. Amelia yearned for Owen to see the situation from her point of view, even though she could not begin to understand it from his. To this point, she still struggled with why he would experience such an inner pull to deploy. How could he choose to leave his family? To risk the injuries that accompanied him when he returned? What made the risks worth it? At the same time, Amelia was nowhere close to giving up or leaving; perhaps that was why the pain was particularly sharp.
After a full 20 minutes of emotional release, Owen was nearly able to speak with a steady voice. He attempted to enhance his description, "I thought I went for altruistic reasons – to serve my country, to share my medical expertise. I was willing to personally sacrifice, to leave home temporarily and live in a tent, to never know when I'd get a shower, to eat," he chuckled, "horrible food. I told myself I was willing to sacrifice for my country. Today, I understood that I had signed all of you up involuntarily for sacrifice far beyond sleeping on a crappy cot or dealing with the desert heat. And, today, our family responded to my apology by showering me with undeserved grace and love. I am both humbled and ashamed to receive that response."
He paused and looked down at his hands before continuing with a slight hint of tension, "To answer your question, Amelia, I was overcome with guilt and regret in the moment. I hadn't seen it or felt it in the same way before today's session. Now, I'll carry those profound feelings in the core of my being with ongoing and heavy regret… My answer to your question is yes." Unexpectedly, Owen slowly stood up, grabbed his cane, and walked to the temporary master bedroom. After the door closed lightly, Amelia heard the lock turn.'
Amelia pulled a blanket tightly around her body. There were no tears left to fall, just a blank emptiness deep inside. She felt hollow. The energy needed to walk upstairs to her bedroom was more than she had available. Stretching out on the couch and placing another blanket on top of her, Amelia fell asleep for the night. Her makeup remained on her face and she wore the clothes she'd worn all day. Those irregularities did not even cross her tired and burdened mind.
A little after 4:00 am, Amelia's dreams brought surprising scenes. With vivid color and detail, she saw herself sitting out on the patio with a fire burning in the fire pit. Birds flew by and sang. An occasional soft breeze kissed her skin. The warm summer air soothed her weary body as she set her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes.
She could hear her dad approaching from behind and a smile appeared on her face while her eyes remained closed. He leaned down to her and clasped his hands on either side of her head as he used to do. He held her hair with his reassuring grasp, then rubbed her cheek with the outside of his hand. His iconic watch was strapped to his wrist.
"I want to hold you all day, baby girl," her dad whispered as he gazed at her, "My sweet, little Amy."
"Then hold me, silly," Amelia quipped in response with a wide smile.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to her. As she anticipated climbing onto his lap, her dad slowly shook his head, "Nah…Amelia, you belong here. I don't."
Amelia's smile faded and her brows moved toward one another, "Daddy, stay. Please stay."
They grasped hands and he responded, "Amy…Amy…Amy…you've gotta face this stuff. Face it so you can stop letting the pain of the past inform your steps toward the future. Amy-girl, Owen came back. He's here. He came back. He's alive. Amy, grasp his hand in yours and don't let go. Walk with him and the two of you can help each other heal."
In an instant, Amelia flinched and gasped as she woke up. Blinking her eyes as she tried to find her bearings, Amelia breathed deeply and attempted to slow down her startled heartbeat.
From the kitchen, Finley cleared his throat as he stood at the refrigerator with a glass of water. "Mom? Are you ok?" he asked. Sibma wandered around sniffing and looking for crumbs on the kitchen floor.
"Uh, yeah," Amelia responded sleepily. "What are you doing down here? It's the middle of the night."
Finley walked over and sat next to his mom. He frowned, "I just couldn't sleep. I thought maybe if I came down here for a while… I dunno. Maybe I'll get tired and could go back to sleep."
Wrapping her arm around her son, Amelia smirked, "What's weighing so heavily on Finley Hunt's mind that it's keeping him awake?"
Staring at the floor, Finley mumbled, "Bronwyn asked me on the way home if we're fixed now."
"Fixed?" Amelia lightly laughed. "I'm not sure I'll ever feel 'fixed.' I've messed my life up in too many ways for too long for it to ever be fixed."
Finley noted then set aside his mom's befuddling and intriguing response and continued blankly, "Then she asked me why Dad had tears ready to leak out when he apologized."
"What'd you say?" Amelia inquired.
"I told her to ask Dad," Finley shrugged. "I didn't know what else to say."
Amelia looked softly toward her son, "Wise response." After patting Finley's upper arm, Amelia asked, "How would you explain it? If you were answering for yourself…not a little kid. Why do you suppose Dad was teary?"
"It's weird. It's like I understand it in my head but can't explain it in words," Finley began. "I think he is sad that he wanted to go and not go all at once. Maybe he's sad because he's confused. But the tears were also happy tears – like tears when something special happens. Maybe he's really relieved he made it home safely."
"Could be…" Amelia responded slowly. "I think your hunches are all solid. I don't know the answer to Bronwyn's question either. Even Dad may not be able to explain it, but I think he was also hurt when he understood how much his decisions affected all of us."
"Hmmm," Finley soaked in the insights.
Amelia continued, "Sometimes coming face to face with the consequences of our choices… realizing that what we've done affected others and not just ourselves… that can be pretty hard to swallow. I've been in that space far too many times. I know it well, and it's not a comfortable or happy place to be."
Finley didn't respond. At some point during her response, he'd drifted off to sleep. Amelia slipped out from beside her son and laid his body down on the cushions. She took the blankets that had kept her warm through the night and placed them on Finley.
Grabbing Finley's water glass, Amelia slowly and tentatively began to take it to the kitchen. As she turned, she saw Owen leaning against the fireplace. He whispered, "Hey."
"Hi," Amelia managed.
"I… I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. There didn't seem to be a good moment to interrupt. I'm sorry for just lurking here. I probably should have just stepped away," Owen explained.
"There were no secrets revealed. I didn't say anything I wouldn't want you to hear," Amelia stated factually with a sideways grin as she set Finley's glass in the sink.
"Mmm," Owen acknowledged plainly.
"How long have you been standing there?" Amelia inquired.
"Since you woke up startled," Owen disclosed.
"I was dreaming," Amelia admitted as she leaned against the counter and looked down at the floor. She nudged her head up slightly, stopping at the site of Owen's chest before reaching his face. "Dreaming about my dad."
"Yeah? Are you ok?" Owen asked softly.
Amelia looked up the rest of the way, locking eyes with her husband, "I am." She chuckled softly and disclosed, "Umm… he, my dad, he told me to grab onto your hand and not let go. He encouraged me to walk with you so we can help each other heal."
Owen looked into her eyes with gentle compassion and grimaced. "Your dad… that's pretty insightful advice." Holding out his hand, Owen looked at Amelia and asked, "Maybe we should listen to his wisdom."
"Yeah," Amelia responded, slightly choked up, as she grasped Owen's hand tightly. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it before leaning down to kiss her forehead, "I truly, truly love you, Mia."
"I love you, too, Owen," Amelia shared as they walked back to the bedroom hand in hand.