I know Grace has been doing okay after what happened on Thursday from talking to my mom. I gave her some time and space, knowing she would need it the same way I do. Graceneverloses her shit the way she did the other night, so I know she’s really struggling. Having a new baby must really be a kick in the ass because my sister is the strongest person I know, and it seems to have knocked her to her knees. I’ll be glad to see with my own eyes that she’s feeling better; I’m sure she has some kind of seven-point plan to improve things, complete with spreadsheets and a PowerPoint presentation, and I’ll be happy to hear it all.
Walking into the cozy, new wine bar a couple of hours later, I breathe a sigh of relief since the place she’s picked is perfect for us. It’s quiet with low lighting, votive candles glowing on every table, and the soft sounds of quiet conversations from the few groups scattered around the room. It’s a surprisingly calming environment, especially for a restaurant/bar.
Spying my sister at a booth near the back, I head over to her, and she stands to give me a very quick hug when I reach her. “Hey, big brother.”
She looks so much better than she did on Thanksgiving. Much more like my sister and not a crazy woman on the verge of losing her mind. I breathe another huge sigh of relief.
A moment later, Sam and Mason arrive at the same time the server appears, so we all order a glass and get comfortable.
“So, Gracie. Talk,” Mason starts.
She takes a small sip and then sucks in a breath. “Okay, first, I am so sorry for what happened on Thursday night. I feel terrible that I ruined everything for everyone, especially you, Dyl, since it was Reed’s first time with us. God, he must think I’m a maniac. The guy’s never met me when I’m not in some kind of crisis.”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t think that, Grace.”
She waves her hand dismissively and continues. “It’s okay. I would understand if he did. But the good thing about my little episode was that it finally made me see how far gone I am. I’m done denying it. The fact is, I’ve got postpartum depression. I’m a dumbass because I know the signs, and I’ve had them all. But I was so determined to do this whole mothering thing perfectly, I absolutely refused to admit what was happening.”
“Just out of curiosity, didn’t Derek see what was going on?” Sam asks as Grace pauses to take a sip of the syrah she and I both ordered. “I mean, dude’s a psychologist, for god’s sake.”
She rolls her eyes at herself. “Oh god, poor Derek. Of course he saw what was happening. He tried so hard to convince me. We had a couple of huge fights over it, and I just insisted I was fine. Truth is, you can’t help someone unless they’re ready to accept it, and I wasn’t ready. Of course, it doesn’t help that he’s just about as fucked-up as I am right now. I think we both have a little PPD.” She gives a wry laugh as she takes a bite of spinach-and-artichoke dip.
“So, what’s your plan, then?” Mason asks.
“Derek contacted someone he went to school with when he got his PhD. She specializes in pregnancy and postpartum mental health. I’m seeing her tomorrow.”
It’s almost like there’s a collective sigh of relief from around the table. “Thank god, Gracie,” I say.
“Yeah, thank fuck for that,” Mason says with a grin. “I’m not gonna lie, little sissy, you scared the fuck out of me the other night.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry,” she says, looking into her wineglass.
“Gracie May,” Sam says, making me smile because he’s the only one who ever uses her middle name; it’s always been kind of their thing. “You scared the shit out of all of us, but you know we’re always here for you, no matter how bad it gets, right?” he asks. “I mean, we may not know what the hell to do about it, but you know, we’re still here…” He grins.
“I know, you guys.” She laughs and dashes away a stray tear sliding down her cheek. “And thank you. I do know you’re all here when I need you.” She blows out a breath. “Just one little PSA for you all: this whole having a baby thing is fuckinghard. Do not ever let anyone tell you different. Anyone who tells you it’s easy is lying their fucking face off.” She shakes her head, wiping away another tear. “Ugh, donotmake me get all sappy, you assholes.” She clears her throat and takes a sip from her wineglass, eyeing me over the rim.
“So, gentlemen, now that we’ve coveredmyshit. I propose we move on to someone else’s shit. Namely, his.” She points at me, and the other two laugh. “I need all the details about what’s going on with Reed. Exclude nothing,” she instructs with an arched eyebrow.
I offer a weak smile. “Well, unfortunately, things aren’t great right now.” I look down into my wine. “I had a meltdown in front of Reed on Thursday night after we left Mom and Dad’s place.”
I look up to see them all waiting for me to say more. “Come on, you guys—you know I can’t stand losing my shit in public. It’s my biggest fear. And it was so much worse in front of him. It was bad.”
Mason nods. “Yeah, we all know. But since you’re sitting here right now and not in jail, I assume you didn’t murder anyone. Therefore, more information is required.”
The server stops by, and we order more wine and a bunch of appetizers. After getting that settled, I proceed to tell them my whole ugly story.
Getting to the end of my sad little tale, I look up to see all three of them looking at me with the same expression—the “what the actual fuck are you thinking?” expression that even I have no trouble interpreting.
Grace holds up her hand. “Okay, just let me get this straight,” she says. “In a nutshell: you freaked out in front of him. He brought you home, and he stayed there all night, making sure you’re okay. And you thank him for his care and concern by throwing him out on his ass the next morning?”
“Well, it sounds way worse when you say it like that.” I protest meekly.
“Uh-huh,” Mason offers helpfully. “And you haven’t talked to him since you booted him out of your house?”
“No, I needed a couple of days for a reset.”
The three of them exchange glances like they’re having some kind of unspoken conversation.
Hearing it broken down so succinctly, it seems pretty clear that not only was I a real asshole, but I’ve made things way worse by not reaching out to him for several days.