6
VIVIEN
“That’s the last of the trash,” Audrey says, entering the kitchen with Ash in tow. They are carrying black sacks filled to the brim with dirty paper plates and plastic silverware from the kids’ party. In addition to our gang, we had twenty boys and girls from Fleur’s and Melody’s classes this year, and it was absolute mayhem. The guys are supervising the trunk-or-treat taking place in our driveway, and then it will be time for all the outsiders to leave. I can’t say I’m sorry. It has been hard to enter into the spirit of Halloween this year with the way things are with Bodhi.
It's hard to function, period, right now.
I am not sleeping well, and my appetite is virtually nonexistent. I am so worried about Bodhi and worried about Easton because he’s pushing his own feelings aside to try to be there for his brother, and I know he doesn’t want to add to our stress. That only compounds the guilt and the fear. The only saving grace is the girls seem oblivious. Bodhi is acting normal with them, and I’m grateful for that small mercy.
My children are the only reason I get out of the bed each morning, and I won’t stop trying for them.
My husband is the other reason.
Dillon is my rock, holding me and loving me every night as we confide our fears in one another. I crawl into bed a wreck each night, collapsing in his arms, and we lose ourselves in one another, needing kisses and touches to remind us of who we are and the things we have overcome already. Then we sit and talk for hours, and every night, my husband papers over the cracks in my heart, reminding me I’m not in this alone.
We haven’t even spoken much to anyone outside the family. One, I don’t want to worry them either. And two, I think it’s hard for anyone to relate unless you are living with this. Dillon and I are even closer now. A feat I never thought possible because we’re as close as a couple can be, but in a weird way, this situation is strengthening our bond on an even deeper level. I love how he is the strength I need to get through this, but he’s also not afraid to be vulnerable with me, sharing his fears and concerns and letting me bolster him in the same way he’s doing for me.
It's how I know we will survive this. We will get our boys through this. Love has to be enough. And we won’t ever stop fighting for our family.
I have never been more in love or more in awe of my husband.
“Are you getting work done in the garden?” Ash asks, interrupting my inner monologue. She squints in the direction of the memorial garden as she peers through the window.
Dillon laid a temporary fence around the area until we have time to repair the damage Bodhi wreaked on the space. “Bodhi destroyed the memorial garden a couple nights ago when he was trashed,” I calmly explain as I open the refrigerator and grab a fresh bottle of white wine. “Dillon and I had to pull him and East off one another in the middle of the night. They were throwing punches and wrestling on the ground like they weren’t as close as twins.”
“Shit.” Ash dumps her garbage bag at the door to the laundry room and walks toward me with concern shining in her eyes. “That’s a bloody nightmare, and so unlike my nephews. I take it things aren’t any better on that score?”
I shake my head, swallowing over the thick, painful lump in my throat, as Audrey removes three clean wineglasses from the overhead cupboard. “Things are terrible, and Bodhi won’t speak to any of us. It’s like I don’t even know my own son anymore. It’s like a stranger is wearing his skin. My sweet, intense, deep thinker has disappeared, replaced with a boy who is so angry he has forgotten how much he is loved.” A strangled sound rips from my mouth, and my lower lip wobbles as I struggle to contain my emotions.
“Ah, Viv. Don’t cry, babe.” Ash drapes her arms around me as Audrey pours the wine, pinning me with sympathetic eyes.
Audrey knows more than most because we sought out her advice. We needed her knowledge of mental health and the law to understand our options. That was a depressing conversation for sure.
“I saw him outside with the girls a few minutes ago,” Audrey says, handing me a glass of wine. “Melody was on his shoulders, and he was holding Fleur’s hand as they went from car to car, so all isn’t lost.” She hands a wineglass to Ash when she eases out of our embrace. “That sweet boy is still in there. You can still get through to him. Try not to lose all hope.”
We take our glasses and head to the living room to wait for the guys. Dillon has some surprise lined up, and he told us to wait here until we were called. I really am not in the mood this year, but Dillon insisted we party it up like usual, and I’m glad he was so pushy. It’s important to keep things normal for the girls, and a night of wine and catching up with my girlfriends is just what I need.
“Did you talk to that therapist I recommended?” Audrey asks when we are settled on the comfy couch.
I’m wearing the Sandy costume I made—a tight off-the-shoulder black top, matching black leggings, a belt with a gold and black center clasp, and open-toed red sandals with a high heel—while Audrey and Ash are dressed as Frenchie and Betty fromGrease. I curled my hair and temporarily dyed it blonde with one of those wash-out color spray cans, to really look the part.
Dillon is wearing a tight black T-shirt, black pants, and boots—it didn’t take much for him to transform himself into a white-blond version of Danny Zuko. Jamie is dressed as Kenickie, and Alex is Doody. It's the first year all three couples have coordinated outfits, and I have a sneaky suspicion this is all tied into my husband’s surprise.
Did I mention how much I love him and what a lucky bitch I am to call him my man?
Audrey peers at me expectantly, and I try to focus my wandering mind. “Yes. Dillon and I met with her yesterday. Bodhi is still refusing to see her, but she is going to come over one night next week and see if he’ll talk to her then.” She also recommended a therapist for Dillon and me to speak to, and we have an appointment arranged for next week. We need all the help and support we can get because we’re floundering, so I’m willing to try just about anything if I think it will work.
“Good luck with that plan,” Ash says, kicking off her heels and pulling her feet up onto the couch. “I remember how much of a nightmare Dil was when he went off the rails. My parents tried everything to help him, but it was like talking to a brick wall.” Her brow puckers, and her nose scrunches up. “Actually, it was worse than that. A wall doesn’t have an attitude and lie to your face.”
“We can’t sit by and do nothing. He’s doing drugs, and he’s drunk every night. He’s full of self-hatred, and I’m so worried about him.”
Ash sits up straighter, leveling me with a troubled stare. “You don’t think he plans to hurt himself, do you?”
“He’s already hurting himself, Ash, and yes, I’m worried about suicide.” I set my glass down and bury my head in my hands, drawing deep breaths as I try not to descend into a full-on anxiety attack. I can scarcely swallow over the messy ball of emotion clogging my throat, and I’m clinging to my sanity by my fingernails.
Audrey runs a soothing hand up and down my back.
“Can you force him into rehab or therapy?” Ash asks. “If you are genuinely worried he might try to kill himself, are there legal measures you can adopt?”