Chapter 33

"Daddy?"
Barely conscious, Max turned his head towards the sound of the child voice.
"Mhmm…"
"Daddy?" The voice got clearer. Closer.
"I'm right here," Max mumbled, sleep weighing down on him.
"I can't see you, daddy. Where are you?"
His eyes sprung open as fear hit him and he looked in the direction of the doorway. The empty doorway.
"Josh? Joshua?"
The sound of his heart was hammering in his ears as his eyes searched the darkness for the silhouette of his son.
"Max?"
He practically jumped when he heard her voice behind him and it sent him flying back to reality.
"Max? Are you okay?"
Her hand tentatively moved up his back to come to rest on his shoulder.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. But his eyes were still fixed on the doorway and his body was still trembling.
"Max?"
"I'm fine," he croaked, wincing at the lack of life in his voice.

A couple of seconds passed before she whispered, "Was it a bad dream? Was it Tess?"
He swallowed deeply, trying to drown the sadness that came with the realization that his son would never stand in the doorway ever again, asking for him. Never ever again. His four-year-old son would never have a bad dream again. His son would never dream again. He didn't know he was crying before her arms encircled him from the back, her soothing voice whispering close to his ear, but his mind wouldn't let him rest.
"Why did they have to die? Why? Why did they have to die? They hadn't done anything wrong. They were not bad people." His crying voice echoed off the walls, not the least humbled by the surrounding darkness. "Josh wanted to go to Disneyland. He was supposed to meet Mick-Mickey Mouse."
"Shhh," Liz whispered.
"Why didn't I stop them? Why didn't I stop her from leaving earlier? Why didn't I go with them? I could've… I could've..:"
"Max, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. There was nothing you could've done-"
"Yes, there was!" He pulled away from her abruptly, sitting up in the bed. He looked down at her and his trail of thought was momentarily halted when he saw the tears shining on her cheeks.

"Yes, there was," he repeated quietly. "There were so many things I could have done differently. But I didn't… I didn't."
She crawled closer to him, closing the distance he had created between them.
"You blaming yourself won't bring them back, Max," she said slowly.
He stared at her, his whole body going cold. It was true. He knew it was true, but still to hear it so honestly and straightforward hurt. The pain was close and so real.
"I know," he whispered, but he could see the truth reflected in her eyes. He didn't know. His mind might know it was true, but his heart didn't. In his heart he was responsible for their death. He should have done something to prevent it. There were a lot of things that he could have done to prevent it and it was his fault that he hadn't done them. He shivered, his feelings mixed, as she put her hand against his cheek. He looked up, but the intensity of her gaze made him drop his eyes again.
"Sweetie," she whispered, "There was nothing you could have done. You hear me? Max, look at me."
With his eyes still fixed on the bed, he murmured, almost inaudibly, "Do you know what I wanted to do after the accident?"
She shook her head, but he went on even though he couldn't see her response. He was in his own mind, where nothing existed but painful memories. "I tried to find him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to die."
His voice was shaking, but so detached that it made a shill run down Liz's spine. She knew who he was talking about, even though he had never talked about that person before. The drunk driver. The person who indirectly killed his family.

"The police wouldn't let me anywhere near him. The hatred was consuming. I couldn't think of anything else but how much I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to stand over him and look into his eyes when he realized what he had done." He looked up and met her eyes and she swallowed. Hard. His look was firm, determined and cold, but if she looked closer she could see the fear. Fear for himself and what he was thinking.
"I wanted him dead, Liz. I wanted to be the one to take his life as he had taken Tess and Josh's lives."
"It's okay," Liz whispered, not knowing what to say.
Max shook his head slowly, "It's not okay. It's never gonna be okay ever again. Because they are gone."
"Max, you…" she swallowed again, not sure what to say and what to not say. "You have to realize that…that they wouldn't want you to continue living your life holding onto old memories and never moving forward."
Max thoughts shifted to all his encounters with his wife and how determined she had been about him continuing to love her, even though she had left him. As if Liz could see what road his thoughts had started to travel down on, she took his hand, raised it to her lips and placed a soft kiss on the knuckles.
"The Tess who has been visiting you, Max, is just in your mind. Do you really think that your Tess would ever behave like that? Would she want you to never live again? Would she want you to blame yourself and feel hatred every day? Is that the girl you married?"
Heavy tears rolling down his moist cheeks, he slowly shook his head.
"I… I don't think that the therapist you are seeing right now is helping you, Max. Just like the first therapist couldn't help you."
"You haven't talked to him. You wouldn't kn-"
"I have a feeling," Liz whispered, even though it was more than a feeling. It was the slow degradation of the person sitting in tears in front of her, with the end of the world weighing down on his shoulders, telling her that the therapist was doing something wrong. "If you let me help you, Max, I promise that I will stick around. I would probably stick around anyway."

Max sighed sadly, his eyes dropping to her hand, which was resting on top of his. "I'm so scared, Liz. I'm so scared to let you…in, because… because…"
"Because of my heart," Liz said softly.
Max's eyes snapped up to meet hers and he started to shake his head fervently in denial, "No, no, that's not what I meant-"
"But that's what you thought," Liz said, a small comforting smile on her lips that never truly reached her eyes. It was the smile of a person who knows that her destiny will always be doomed because of one thing. Her heart. "I'm sure Isabel has told you so as well. There is always the chance of me dying, and that chance is bigger because of my heart condition."
"But you said that your heart was fine now," Max protested, her words planting insecurity in his heart that he hadn't allowed himself to consider before.
"It is," Liz smiled, "Because I got another one." She had to avert her eyes from him at this, because her thoughts automatically traveled to whom she had received the heart from, a subject they had not truly address yet. She didn't want to address it now either, because it was more important that Max got better before adding her and her problems to the equation. But she could see in his eyes that he had been thinking the same thing. They just could not get past the weird fact that Liz was alive because Tess was dead.
"I'm tired," Max said softly, and with that Liz could feel him pulling away and closing up. But she didn't want to do anything about it. It was in the middle of the night and Max looked like death warmed over. He needed to sleep – for months.
"Okay," Liz nodded. "Do you want me to leave?"
His hand took a hold of her hand, the sudden pressure almost painful. "No, please don't."
Relief spread through her body and she nodded. "I won't. I'll stay right here. I'm not going anywhere."
She curled up next to him, her body spooning around him, while his body naturally came to rest close to hers.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered in his ears. He took a hold of the hand she had put on his side and pulled it around his waist, bringing her even closer.
"I think I will," he murmured so softly that it got lost in the silence of the house.

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Liz woke up a couple of hours later by the sound of arguing voices. She slowly started to move, careful not to wake Max. His grip on her had weakened during the night, as unconsciousness had claimed him, but every time she moved it would tighten, which it did now as she tried to free her hand from his. He mumbled restlessly in his sleep when her warm body moved away from his. She pressed a soft kiss on the side of his neck and he settled down some. It was with regret that she left his side.

"He needs to be put in a mental institution!"
"What the hell are you talking about, Michael?! He's your friend! How can you abandon him like that?! No, this is a family matter and it should be resolved in the family-"
"Listen to yourself! How well has this family matter been resolved this far? How have we helped if Max has turned into a nutcase? He should have gotten help earlier and I regret not pushing harder when he stopped seeing the first therapist. For some stupid reason I thought that he would know best what to do. But he doesn't, okay Isabel? He doesn't know at all what to do. He needs our hel- Where are you going?"
"I refuse to listen to you accusing me of not taking care of my brother. What do you think I've done the last two years?! I haven't had one peaceful night for two years, Michael!"
"This isn't about you, Isabel!"
"That's not what she said-"
"Stay out of this, Alex."
"No, this ends right here. You have to see beyond your own egos and see what would be best for Max."
"That's what we are doing!" Isabel and Michael cried out in unison.
"What's going on?"
Michel, Isabel and Alex turned their heads towards the stairs, where they saw Liz.
"Great," Isabel mumbled. "Another person who thinks she has a say in this..:"
"Shut up, Is," Michael said.

Isabel took a deep breath, about to say something and then stopped herself, her inhalation collapsing in a swallowed sigh behind tightly closed lips.
"Why does everyone think they are entitled to give their opinion on this? Max is my responsibility-"
"For Christ's sake," Michael cried out.
"Here we go again," Alex said.
Liz stepped up to Alex, figuring that he was probably the only person she would be able to get any information from. Without her even having to open her mouth, Alex answered her unspoken question, "Michael wants to put Max in a mental institution, because he feels that Max is too far gone to be treated by a therapist since his meetings with the therapist haven't been successful. Isabel wants to go on treating him at home and she feels that he is doing okay, that he is getting better."
Liz nodded, her eyes fixed on the angry posture of Michael and Isabel's defensive posture.
"Well, at least put him on some medication," Michael said.
"Medication?! He doesn't need medication, Michael! He is fine! Okay? He. Is. Fine."
Michael's whole body was shaking with repressed anger, and it was visible to Liz that he was seconds away from exploding. She inhaled deeply when he turned his attention on her.
"What do you think, Liz?"
"She doesn't have a say in this," Isabel interrupted, but Michael just ignored her.
"Max seems to trust you and you've been in his room during the night, what do you think? Do you think he is healthy? Do you think that his behavior is normal?"
"I don't think he's healthy," Liz answered.
"Hah!" Michael said triumphantly in the general direction of where Isabel was standing.
"But," Liz hurried to say, "I don't think that he should be locked up in an institution or that he needs any medication."

"What?!" Michael cried out, baffled.
Isabel's eyebrows rose with sudden awakened interest.
"I think we should take him to another therapist. He could evaluate the situation and we should take it from there. Personally, I don't think he needs to be put in a mental institution. He is finally starting to realize what is going on with him and that is a big step towards recovery, which tells me that there is still hope."
"Why should we change therapist? That is just ridiculous. This therapist knows Max now and has all the facts. If we change the therapist, Max has to go through the process of talking about all those horrible things all over again."
Isabel looked at her husband for support but she could quickly see that he wasn't to support her in this. He had been standing behind her for too long and now it was starting to go against his own beliefs.
"I think she's right," Alex whispered.
"Yeah, the therapist Max has right now sucks," Michael agreed.
Isabel took a deep breath, trying to control her feelings. "What the hell is wrong with everyone?! I thought you wanted what was best for Max!"
"Please, Isabel," Liz said calmly, "Can't we just try this and if the new therapist isn't good we can go back to the old one?"
Isabel stepped away, shaking her head, resignation making her head heavy. "Fine, just do whatever you like."
"Isabel…" Alex reached out with his hand towards her, but she slapped it away.
"No, Alex, if you want to be on their side, then be on their side. But don't expect me to support you."
With that Isabel walked away, slamming the door to her bedroom close behind her.
"I'm sorry," Liz said, "I didn't mean to-"
"That's okay, Liz," Michael said, sinking down on one of the stools behind him, his hands tiredly rubbing over his face.
"Yeah, she's just throwing one of her tantrums," Alex said with a reassuring smile, "She'll get over it."
For some reason, Liz wasn't so sure about that. It felt like she would be fighting Isabel on this thing for a long time. A very long time.

TBC...