Sunshine and Lemons part IV

Liam

It felt like I had been in this hospital bed for an eternity, but in reality it had only been a week or so; time seemed way too fluid without a routine to guide you. I had been unconscious in the ICU for several days before I was finally moved into my own room. I would drift in and out, the drugs keeping me down, the pain they didn't conquer keeping me up. I had been told that I had passed out at the house and the twins used Jenna's phone that I had put on the coffee table, the table that I barely missed cracking my head on when I fell, to call 911. The police and ambulance showed up at the same time and apparently if they hadn't found me and sought help, I'd be dead now.

I was also told about the damage my internal organs had sustained. The surgery was successful, though I might be susceptible to blood clots in the future and discussions of blood thinners abounded. I seemed to have no cognitive deficits and should make a full recovery as all my pieces, parts and processes seemed to be in order. But right now, I was hurt and sore and had been told I would need assistance once I was released from the hospital. My dad told me they would move Josh into Jenna's room so I could sleep in his bed. My mom was going to take time off to stay with me. It was really the last thing I had wanted to hear. She and Uncle Will had been in to visit earlier. I had been asleep but woke up in the middle of their conversation, but kept my eyes closed. She had asked him about how we spent time together when I was younger. He would answer with some examples and she would make him dig deeper. Will had been gentle, but clearly wasn't giving her what she wanted. But finally he found what she had wanted to hear, or needed to hear as once he told her the story, she kissed my hand that she had been holding, I could feel the tears fall on my skin and quickly departed the room, her footsteps quick and uneven.

"Did he love everything you did?" She had asked. "Tell me the bad stuff, I know he couldn't have always been an angel."

"There was one time, I recall," Will began, but then hesitated.

"Tell me, please." She encouraged.

"If you're sure."

"I am. Jay only tells me the fun things, the nice things. I need to know all of it."

"He did like our time together, mostly. Once, we were at the Art Institute, he was probably six. You know, he always loved Van Gogh. When he was ten I took him to an immersive exhibit that was at the Lighthouse Artspace that focused on all Van Gogh's paintings. It was so cool, we both loved it. Things like that, I would have missed out on if not for him." I could practically feel Will reminiscing, lost in his private thoughts and memories. "Sorry, I got off track, he was tired that afternoon at the Art Institute, we were actually trying to find our way out after a few hours of perusing," he chuckled. "Liam told me he was thirsty, so I told him we'd find somewhere to get a drink once we got of the museum. Well he wanted a soda and he wanted it right now. Jay didn't allow him to drink soda, so he would try to get me to buy him things, do things, that he knew Jay wouldn't allow. I admit, I would spoil him a bit here and there, but I rarely went against Jay's wishes. But Liam was six, tired and cranky and began to have a fit. I let him vent for a minute and then tried to talk him down, but he wasn't having it. Jay never ruled with an iron fist, but he wasn't going to allow his son to be a spoiled brat either. Expressing displeasure was allowed, but it had a limit, and being completely unreasonable wasn't acceptable. I pulled him out of the main area and squatted down and attempted to calm him down again. The behavior wasn't typical for him and the first time I had seen or dealt with it. I wasn't even sure what to do. I let him whine and cry for another minute and without an end in sight I finally popped him a couple of times on the butt, nothing harsh, but I just needed to break the cycle of frustration that he was in. He stopped his tirade and looked at me, blinked as if he had just woken up and then jumped into my arms and clung to me like he was some kind of monkey.

"I just hugged him, held him until he began to settle down. Then he said, and I remember it as if it was yesterday instead of twenty years ago, he said, "Uncle Will please don't leave me, don't leave me too." At the time, my future at the hospital was uncertain, he may have overheard me telling Jay that I might be forced to look elsewhere for future employment. But as soon as he said that I began to think how far downstate, or north could I go and still remain a constant in his life."

"Oh. I see. Not just "Don't leave me," but, "Don't leave me too." My mother had replied, her voice distant.

"Yeah. Thankfully everything worked out and I stayed in Chicago. I bought him a bottle of water after we left the museum and he held my hand the entire way home. I never even told Jay about what happened."

I remembered the incident, almost as clearly as Will had. I don't know if I had overheard his possible departure or if somehow I had sensed the possibility. Or perhaps I just couldn't handle the thought of losing someone else that I loved.

I was certain my mother took the story to heart. "Don't leave me too," was a bullseye aimed right for her heart. But it seemed to be what she had been looking for, proof that her absence had mattered. Well it damn sure did. She had heard the happy stories, perhaps she needed to punish herself with the times when we struggled—when Dad had a meltdown when a case went bad or was simply exhausted. Or when I had a meltdown for the same reasons.

I also realized that my parents hadn't visited me at the same time. My father would pop in a few times during the day for short a duration. We didn't say much, neither of us were ready. But when my mother came, I always seemed to be too tired to keep my eyes open. I knew she was spending her lunch hour with me, rushing to the hospital via the bus to sit by me for only a half hour. Dad brought the twins by last night. For them I found the most energy to at least appear as if I was recovering.

"Oooh, jello," Dr. Charles said as he walked into my room. "And it's the red kind, my favorite. Aren't you going to eat it?"

"Do you know what's in jello?"

"I do."

"And you still want it?"

"Sure, why not," he said with a wink. "Ready to do any talking today?"

I shoved my plate with the jello on it his direction and adjusted my position, grimacing the entire time. "Not really. Why do I need to talk to you anyway, I wasn't involved in a shooting."

"Because you entered a building that was already collapsing and that was far from a good decision."

"I knew there were people in there—kids in there. I had to try."

"But wasn't the building in the process of falling down at the time?"

"I don't recall," I reply.

"There were a few other recent ideas that would have been dangerous decisions if you hadn't been stopped. As well as some tough cases you were involved in."

"Sounds like you already know everything and I don't even need to talk to you because someone else has."

"Only because they care about you. In fact, from what I understand the waiting room was at standing room capacity the night you were brought in. A lot of people care about you and are concerned for your well-being. Including me. So what gives?"

"I was just a little overzealous in my attempts to rid the city of a few problems. I tried to help people who were beyond it. I made poor choices because I wasn't paying close enough attention."

"Okay. How come?"

"Does there always have to be a specific reason?"

"No. How's your relationship with your parents?" He said moving on.

"Fine. Look doc, I'm getting tired."

"Any love interests?" He asks, completely ignoring my announcement of fatigue. He's known me since I was ten, and wasn't going to fall for my delay tactics.

"No."

"I understand that you have quite a pool of female companions from which to choose."

"Kyle held absolutely nothing back," I say as I shake my head. "Getting dates generally isn't a problem for me."

"But is there anything deeper than a fun evening?"

"A fun night," I reply.

"I see," he nods. "But nothing further. No meaningful dialogue, no establishing a foundation for any type of relationship?"

"No," I tell him, but he sees something in my eyes that tells him I'm not being completely truthful.

"No? You sure?"

"There was one woman, Reilly. She doesn't live here, somewhere in north central Missouri. She was here with her cousin, Nina, visiting a friend of Nina's, Amy or Amelia who was up here for some internship or college. I can't remember."

"But you remember Reilly. Did anything happen with her?"

"She had come up for the week, her first time to the city. We were at a restaurant on the Riverwalk."

"Who's we?"

"Kyle, me, Jameson, another friend. We had just finished eating, were having a last drink. Her little group was near ours. Nina kept looking over at us, she caught my eye at first. By the time we finished the girls were nonstop giggling as they looked at us.

"I'll spare you the details, but it was clear that Reilly was the shy one of the group. Nina and Amelia or whatever her name was, were all over me, but because of that, I wasn't interested in them."

"Why's that?"

"This is going to come off sound callous, but because I've had so many like them. I clearly needed something new in my life."

"Conquer a new land?"

"Now you're making it sound like a conquest. No, it's because she had a gentleness, a calmness about her that piqued my curiosity. She wanted something besides physical contact. But, please understand doc, I would never, ever, push or demand or force a woman to do anything she wasn't comfortable with."

"I believe you. So what happened."

"I had gone up to pay for the round of drinks we had just finished and when I came back they had kind of pushed Reilly to the front and said she wanted to see the city—with me—alone."

"And that was code for?"

"For seeing the city with a native. Don't make this dirty, Doc." I tell him, trying to look serious. "They had noticed my badge and gun and told her it would be fine to go with me because I was a cop. She still seemed tentative so to make her feel more comfortable I gave her friends my badge number. I told the other two that they were welcome to come, but it was clear they wanted this adventure to be for Reilly alone. I could tell she wasn't sure, but peer pressure and all, at the last moment she agreed."

"What did you do?"

"I drove to the Magnificent Mile, Grant Park, over by the Field Museum and Soldier Field. I parked in different places so we could walk around. But towards the end it started to rain."

"So what did you do?"

"I pointed out the building I used to live in and then told her I'd take her back to where she was staying, but she couldn't remember the address. She texted and called but there was no response by either her cousin or friend."

"I see. So then what?"

"I took her to my place. I mean, I asked her if it was okay, told her there were no expectations and as soon as we had an address I'd take her home."

"Did the address ever come?"

"Eventually. But while we were waiting she kept apologizing," I chuckled, recalling her nervousness. "She said she had never done this before and she was sorry for disappointing me."

"Were you disappointed?"

"No. I found her endearing. Her concern for me was so genuine, but at the same time she wasn't going to go against her inclination to stay true to herself. She didn't want a walk on the wild side, just a quick peek. And probably wanted her friends off her back.

"I gave her the grand tour of my house, answered her questions about my job and explained why I had bunkbeds, a toy box and doll house in my second bedroom. She looked at me differently after that. She looked at the pictures of me with the twins and the Casey girls and it seemed like a huge weight she had been dragging around loosened."

"She knew you were a good guy underneath that playboy exterior."

"By this time it was late and I had to be at work in the morning. She kept trying to call and text but they ignored her. I gave her some of my clothes and set her up in the bottom bunk. I offered her my bed but she wouldn't take it."

"So she spent the night?"

"She did, but on her terms and mine because they were hers."

"You are a gentleman."

"I was raised right."

"Yes you were. Did you ever get her home?"

"Yes. When she woke up in the morning she discovered a text that came in during the night with the address. I dropped her off all they way in Logan Square before I went to work. Told work my elderly neighbor had plumbing issues. Like I know anything about plumbing."

"Did you see her again?"

"I did. As I drove her home she asked for my phone number. I gave it to her and she texted me so I'd have her number. I ended up picking her up every night after work. We never slept together, but I had one of the best weeks of my life."

"Have you seen her since?"

"Yes. Twice. She's come up for visits with her cousin. But she doesn't like to travel alone and described herself as not very adventurous, so not to expect her on her own. But then my phone got smashed up and her number was in it."

"No back up?"

"No. I had some stuff on the cloud but not her number."

"I'm sorry."

"The worst part is that she'll think I'm ignoring her. That I want nothing left to do with her."

"And you're afraid she'll think that for all the wrong reasons?"

"I guess."

"So she was more than just sex. You two had some kind of connection?"

"Well there wasn't any sex so it must be. She seemed more relaxed around me. More carefree, her cousin had told me that. And I found myself just wanting to talk and be me when I was with her. I guess that's some kind of connection. But I guess it's over now."

"Have you stayed true to her?"

"You mean not dated anyone else since we met?" I asked as he nodded. "No. I do have needs and we aren't officially dating, just sorting hanging out."

"But you want to keep seeing her?"

"I do," I sigh. "With other women, it's not just my needs. I give them what they want just as they give me what I want. But it never goes deeper than that. It's like it's not worth the effort or there's satisfaction with the superficial. But with Reilly it was different. She was different. She wanted to see me, not just physically, but all of me."

"She might contact you. You can get her number that way."

"Whenever I can get another phone."

"You'll discover that life and love often find a way."

"Sure," I say distractedly as I think of Reilly, her soft brown locks, her hazel eyes and the way she began to trust me in ways that you can't fake or force. I was certain all my philandering was out of fear of feeling unloved, being rejected. I wasn't going to allow myself to take the chance—better to love 'em and leave 'em as it went. I was clearly very good at that. If I invested myself in a relationship and it didn't work out, I didn't know how I would handle it. However, with Reilly I had discovered I had wanted more or at least different. Something beyond just the physical and that terrified me. I felt a bond with her I hadn't ever felt before—a trust, a realness. But just like that building, anything we might have had just seemed to collapse around me.

"Tomorrow we talk about your relationship with your parents."

I open my mouth to object but he is gone before I can speak.

Dr. Daniel Charles

I had known Liam since he was ten and his father thought I could help him sort some things out. I had found Liam to be very bright, thoughtful, charming and charismatic. He loved deeply and feared what he couldn't control. It became evident to me almost immediately that his greatest fear was losing his father. That didn't come as a surprise since his mother hadn't been in his life for several years. Like most children who had lost one parent, they clung to the other. I found the relationship between father and son to be quite a strong bond, but due to Jay's career it was also somewhat atypical. But Liam was, and is a lot like Jay, takes things to heart, which ends up breaking when he can't fix those things. Some things just aren't all that easy to fix.

Jay's job was harrowing to say the least, and Liam was more than aware of that fact. I think he spent much of his day just willing his father to survive it. That takes its toll on a child and could make him want to lay blame somewhere. Liam would blame his father at times, but I always felt that his frustration landed elsewhere as well. He had a lot to shoulder and perhaps the load had finally brought him down. I had felt that he was angry at his mother's abandonment, and of course he would be. If Jay had died I was sure he would be just as angry at his absent mother as much as his fallen father. But he had to get beyond what Emma had done to him and examine instead, what she had done for him. He couldn't seem to go beyond her physical departure, never quite wanting to understand the facts or reasoning behind it.

But after speaking with Jay, I felt the same concern for him. Being a cop, he was under no illusion that children always survived to adulthood. He saw youngsters die violent and bloody and with far too much regularity to feel that his son was immune. Jay witnessed it in Afghanistan and was no stranger to crying parents and lost innocence here in Chicago. He had seen enough to last into the nightmares that he frequently dealt with. When Liam became a police officer himself, I had never seen a man so proud, yet so terrified.

I knew Liam would have always struggled if anything ever happened to his father, but on the other side of the coin, I perceived that Jay would not only struggle, but his life would end right along with his sons. And with Liam healing, but still not completely out of the woods, I wondered if Jay would lay blame of his sons condition at the feet of his wife.

"Talk to me about your dad. Have you been spending much time with him lately?" I ask Liam as I sit down in the chair next to his bed. I had come in several minutes earlier to hear Emma quietly singing some kind of soft, haunting tune, to her sleeping son. Though I had my doubts that he was truly asleep. Will had told me they hadn't spoken to each other as Liam always seemed to be sleeping when she visited. Liam was hiding from her, not dealing, he was lost and it was my job to bring him back.

"Some, I guess," Liam said turning away from me, a clear indicator that he was lying, which made me think he wanted me to know he was being dishonest since his job as an undercover cop consisted of him being a champion liar.

"How come you've pulled away from him?"

"I just said—" he began before I cut him off.

"And I know you too well, to believe that lie. You can lie convincingly to strangers all day long, but not to me. What has interfered with your relationship? It has always been a strong and powerful one."

"Life, Doc. Just life."

"I see. But life didn't get in the way before."

"Things evolve."

"That they do. Tell me how you are getting along with your mother?"

"Getting to know each other."

"She's been back for a while."

"We missed a lot of years. It takes time. Look Dr. Charles, I'm tired."

"You just slept while your mother was here."

"Yeah, well they've been getting me out of bed and it's exhausting."

"I see. Let me ask you one question then I'll leave, but you have to answer it honestly." He nodded albeit reluctantly. "In one word, how would you describe what you feel right now."

Somehow the blue in his eyes darkened as if a wave had crashed or a cloud had covered whatever light had been left. He looked away and his hand swiped across his eyes. He inhaled, looked back at me, licked his lips and said, "drowning."

It wasn't what I expected and had caught me off guard. I had no idea had slipped so far, but then again, perhaps I did. But my surprise was not very professional, but it happens to the best of us. So I was relieved when Will came into the room. I told them I'd give them some time together and backed out of the room to review my notes and figure out what do next.

I thought back to when Liam was younger. I saw him in sessions, but I also saw him at the hospital when he came to visit Will. Jay tried to stop by a couple times of month to have dinner with his brother so the three Halstead's could get together. Liam would always smile and say hi if he saw me. Knowing both his father and uncle as I do, I could easily see a lot of them in Liam. They were as compassionate as they were passionate, as well as stubborn and headstrong. And I knew without a doubt if I needed a doctor I would want Will and if I needed a cop, I would want a Halstead.

I recalled a time when Jay had brought Liam to the hospital for dinner and got called to a crime scene and had to leave Liam behind. Will had been busy and unaware his eleven year old nephew was in the hospital unattended. Jay had told a nurse on his way out about Liam's presence, but she didn't work in the ED and was on her way off shift and never relayed the message. After Liam finished his dinner in the doctor's lounge he proceeded to explore the hospital with reckless abandon. It wasn't until he had been caught watching a triple bypass procedure that his adventure ended.

Once Will was informed he corralled the boy and made him apologize to the departments he had visited, but I think he was fighting a smile as he watched his nephew make his rounds, realizing that the kid had been nearly everywhere sans the morgue and psychiatric ward. Jay was a little less amused of his son's escapade. He tried to instill discipline in his son, and I knew it was because he needed to know his son was safe, and parading around a large urban hospital wasn't reflective of that notion. Liam had always been one to test and push the limits and it terrified his father, whereas his uncle had a little more tolerance and admiration for the boy's nature.

After Will left I gave Liam some time to relax and get some rest before I went back in. He was looking at one of the several homemade cards that he had been given from the children in his life.

"Cute cards," I tell him.

"Thanks. The crayon work is superb. I appreciate them, but all I can think of is the kids that I haven't been able to save over the last month. So damn many. Their mothers—they clung to them until the end, refusing to leave their side. The one that was hurt the worst was the mother who lived as her daughter had slipped away in my arms."

"I can't imagine how hard that must be."

"Damn hard," he says looking away. He tries to put the card back on the nightstand but drops it in the process. I go pick it up and set it down next to his bed. "I can't twist yet." He explains.

"What were your injuries?"

"Like you don't know."

"Tell me," I encourage, hoping that by listing them, he'll realize how dangerous his actions were.

"Some internal bleeding," he says casually as if he described getting a few stitches.

"Let's see, there was the removal of part of your liver due to damage, they cauterized part of your spleen to stop the bleeding so they wouldn't have to remove it. You had bleeding from your intestines and they had to resect part of your bowel. Your belly was full of blood, so much so that your blood pressure barely registered. Oh, and three cracked ribs that turned into a broken rib and punctured lung. Why did you ignore all that pain? How did you ignore all that pain? I mean the cracked ribs alone, would put most people down for the count. You had to be woozy from the blood loss."

"What are you saying?" He asks, clearly frustrated with my line of questioning.

"I think you know."

"Except that I don't. I get banged up all the time, I didn't think it was a big deal."

"I don't believe you."

"What?"

"You heard me, I don't believe you. I think you knew you were severely injured but decided not to seek medical attention."

"Why wouldn't I get help?" He asks trying to look shocked, but not quite pulling it off.

"Because you had decided to let go, give in—to drown."

"You're saying I wanted to die?"

"I am. I just need you to say it."

"I won't. Because I wasn't. It's not true. I just underestimated my injuries." He argues.

My history with both Jay and Liam had been long enough that I felt comfortable with my line of questioning. Jay had always said that Liam always needed that last push or demand before he would give in. The old countdown to three as it were; ignored warning one, contemplated on warning two, but it often took warning three or as Jay would say, when he would get up and head towards Liam to invoke whatever punishment he had in mind before Liam would acquiesce and do what he had been asked three times. I had always surmised it was because he clung to any and all attention that he could get from his father and he needed the affirmation that Jay cared enough to put in the effort.

"If you don't come to terms with your mental state I can make you stay, even after you're released due to your injuries."

He looks at me, his eyes wide. "You'd 5150 me?" He asks aghast, speaking of the code for involuntary psychiatric hold.

"I would. I will. I think you're a danger to yourself. I think you proved that by running errands as you felt your life slip away. It's just by pure luck that you passed out where your siblings would find you. Think of what would have happened if you had been driving. What if you had been driving with them in the car?"

I could tell this startles him. "Did you ever think about the fact that your father probably felt like he was drowning at times. He had hard days, hard cases. He dealt with PTSD, nightmares, horrific memories. But he kept going and do you know why?"

He stays quiet for a moment and I didn't think he was going to answer, but he finally does. "Me."

"Yes you. He kept going for you. And before you say you don't have any kids, think again," I tell him as I hand him all of the handmade cards. "And think of that man who struggled through so many things just he could be around to raise you. What would your death do to him? You speak of drowning, but how many would you pull down with you?"

He looks terrified as if everything has hit him at once. "Tell me what scares you." This man, who slips into alter egos as often as I change my suit, who immerses himself with the enemy, who puts himself on the bullseye of danger and constantly dances across enemy lines has to admit to the one fear he can't suppress.

"I didn't want to die. I couldn't do that to my father." He says quietly and it is then that it hits me.

"But you could do that to your mother—show her what it's like to lose."

He looks over at me, his eyes moist and I knew I had discovered his internal conflict.

"When I was in high school I had to write a paper. I can't even remember exactly what the topic was, something like metaphors and analogies. I wanted some obscure title so I called it Sunshine and Lemons."

"That is cryptic. What was it about." I ask him leaning closer.

"Duplicity? Deception? Disguise?"

"Wow, sound fascinating. Care to explain it to me?"

"Do you know when Will was in here earlier, he yelled at me for the same thing—for not seeking medical help." He said, changing the subject.

"He was scared that he was going to lose you."

"Yeah. I always thought I could outrun the bullets, but suddenly I got too tired to care and I tripped and fell. And I didn't care if I got up or not."

I looked at him, sadness in my eyes. "How do you feel now?"

"Sore," he said with a slight smile. "I was in a bad place. Everyone would move on if I didn't make it. They would."

"They might, they might not. Even if they did it would be agonizing for many of them. Did you want to hurt them?"

"Just one," he said confirming my earlier supposition of wanting to show his mother what it was like to lose.

"You were prepared to go to the ultimate lengths to show something you wouldn't even be around to see."

"Short-sided and immature of me huh?"

"And selfish."

"It wasn't really a conscious decision. It just played out that way. I didn't know how badly I was hurt until about ten minutes before I collapsed."

"Right after your dad left?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you call 911?"

"I don't know. It was like I was frozen."

We sat in silence for several minutes as he came to terms with what he had been avoiding before he began speaking again. "My paper—we think of the sun as a welcome and wonderful thing. It offers heat, its rays feel soft, makes us warm and makes plants grow—it gives life. But we forget that it has difficult attributes, it burns, overheats, can kill. We tend to think of it as a savior capable of only the positive. If given a choice, sun is a selection we'll make every time. But it can burn, bite and scar.

"Lemons—often just the word will make people pucker and shudder. They are thought of as sour, unpleasant. But they provide vitamin C, something we all need. They can make a dinner or drink that much better with just a squeeze. Or with the right additive make a wonderful beverage—a fan favorite to enjoy under the sun.

"Both yellow, the same in that aspect, but vastly different. Both have positive and negatives, but given the choice, people will choose the sun every time. They will choose something that can kill them over something that offers only minor discomfort."

"Is that what your mother did? Choose something dangerous over you?" Thinking that the color yellow represented being a parent the sun equaling the mother and lemon the father, the sun generally being the more powerful parent.

"She had choices, she acts like she didn't but she did. She could have chosen minor discomforts of staying alert, of ensuring her tracks had been covered, of telling my father the truth of her past before she made the decision to leave. She could have shared her burden and they could have decided together. She reached for the sun and it burned her. Burned my father."

"Burned you," I added.

"Yeah. Life would have been different if she had stayed, bitter at times, but overall I think it would have been fine."

"But you will never know."

"No. She never gave us a chance to find out."

"Don't you think it would have been hard for her? The constant concern, looking over her shoulder? Worried for you and your father?"

"And she didn't suffer from that after she left us?" He asks, his eyes wide with the knowledge that she did.

"I don't know."

"I don't think she ever looked at her options as she felt there was only one. She never gave a second glance to what she claimed she feared the most. She was so ready to sacrifice herself she never thought how it would affect those she left behind."

"Isn't that what you just did?"

"I suppose so. I reached for the sun, but was saved just before I touched it."

"And your mother? You're saying that your mother perhaps embraced the sun?"

"No, she didn't embrace it, she was the sun. While my dad spent his life making me lemonade."

"But lemons can make you pucker," I offer, trying to keep him talking.

"And the sun sets and leaves." He retorts.

"But it comes back." I try.

"And it casts long shadows when it does." He finishes, his eyes flickering with emotion.

Later that night as I looked back at my notes, I could still feel Liam's torment wrapping itself around me. He compared his mother to being the sun with all of its harmful elements, but none of its positive attributes. The mother is often thought of as the stronger and preferred parent, but it was his father, the lemon, who was the one that saved him and gave him what he needed. Quite the analogy indeed. I drifted back to our conversation again.

"I'm supposed to be thrilled my mother is back, but I'm not, I can't. It's not right, it's not fair. He does all the work and she waltz's back in and lands on her feet while he is exhausted. But then I realize it's more than all about me because if she wasn't here then the twins would be in another home. How can I dismiss their needs to be happy and stable? Now she has the family she always wanted, but it doesn't include me—not how it was supposed to be, because it's too late for me. And I don't know if I can be a part of it. I don't think I want it to be. How am I not deliriously happy that she has returned? I'm supposed to be right? But I'm not. I pretended as best I could, but I can't do it anymore. It's exhausting." He had told me, his face flushed with anger.

"You know how you see young children holding their parents hands while they swing the kid back and forth?"

I nodded that I did. "I never had that. Not once." He tells me as he seems to deflate in front of me.

It had been building since her return, but with the distraction of the wedding and the twins and Jay's happiness, he couldn't bear to discuss his feelings. He thought he could handle it, but as time went on, he discovered that he couldn't. He just couldn't forgive her. And all that had been building up until it nearly killed him.

Soundtrack:

Amateur Blonde - No Worries Matthew Perryman Jones - Can't Get It Right