“Then why does everything feel impossible and painful?” She gasps for breath. “It shouldn’t be this hard. I’m pretending like all this happened when Chad left, but it didn’t. Not really. I haven’t been happy in a long time.”
“Then it’s time to figure out why. You need therapy, maybe medication, I don’t fucking know. But you have to do something.”
“I will, okay? Just not today. I’m tired.”
“Sara,” I warn. “You need to take care of the kids.”
“Can you call the neighbor? See if she can take them. Just for today,” she pleads.
I war with myself on whether I should do it. But when I think about the kids sitting in front of the TV all day while she stays in here and cries, the decision is made. They don’t deserve that.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.” She sniffles and settles back into bed.
This is above my life skills. I don’t know what to do. She’s not a child anymore. I can’t order her to do things like I did when we were kids. And I just insulted and hurt my only friend in the world, so I have no one to ask for advice.
I call the neighbor who is elderly but loves spending time with the kids. She happily agrees to take them for the day. I rush to get them up and fed before dropping them off and hurrying to work. Even still, I’m five minutes late.
“The lobstah are going to be gone by the time we get out there,” Oliver grumbles.
“I’m sorry. I had a tough night.” I toss my backpack in the cabin and get to work, baiting the traps.
“I heard.” Oliver steers the boat away from the dock and out into the open ocean.
“What did you hear?”
“Not much. Something about your sistah being hammered at work,” he states matter-of-factly.
“Fucking small towns.”
“You wanna talk about it?” He pins me with his no nonsense stare. We’ve been working together for almost two months and the most talking we’ve done is an ongoing argument about whether crabbing or lobstering is more difficult.
“You have any experience with a depressed sister or pissing your boyfriend off?” I ask.
“Can’t say I do.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“I can listen, though.” It’s the first caring thing out of his mouth and whether from desperation or insanity, I take him up on it. I tell him the whole thing, starting with Sara’s and my childhood all the way to what happened last night, all while tossing out traps despite my overwhelming exhaustion.
I’m done shutting people out. It took me forty years to realize I need people. I need friends. I need family. I can’t navigate life like this. Mason was the first person I let my guard down for and when I lost him, I told myself that’s what I get for allowing someone to get close. But what it should’ve told me was I needed to let more people in so when bad things happen, I’m not alone.
“Well, fuck, man. I don’t know what to say.” Oliver yanks his knit cap off his head and tucks it in his back pocket. “You’ve been dealt some shit.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I don’t have any experience in any of that, but can I tell you my opinion?” he asks, steering us to the dock for lunch.
“Sure,” I say hesitantly.
“I think you fucked up. I mean, what would you do if your employee showed up drunk after spending weeks doing a bad job? You’d fire them. You put that boy in a tough position and you better start groveling.” He parks and grabs his thermos and lunchbox. “And your sister is a ticking time bomb. This kind of behavior isn’t a normal response to a divorce. Sure, she’d be sad and cry. But drinking enough to get fired and not taking care of her kids? She needs help, man. I don’t know how you’ll talk her into it, but you need to.”
He doesn’t wait for my reaction. He simply leaves me there. But his words remain with me, resonating down to my soul. I want to be angry and tell him he’s wrong, but I know he’s not.
Now to figure out what to do about it.
I return home after a long day, bone weary. I pick up the kids and we grab a pizza before heading home. I’m assuming Sara’ll still be tucked away in bed when we get there, but she’s not. She’s at the kitchen table, documents laid out in front of her.
“Hi, my babies!” She opens her arms and the kids run into them. She looks better now that she’s showered and dressed. It’s weird, considering everything. I should be happy she’s making an effort, but I’m suspicious.
“What are you doing?” I ask, setting the pizza down on the island and grabbing paper plates.
“You were right. I need to get everything in order. I called a lawyer. He agreed to look at the divorce papers. I have an appointment tomorrow. So now, I’m getting everything together for him.”
“That’s great. I’m glad.”
“I thought you would be.”
“Are you hungry?” I put a slice on a plate and hand it to her, expecting her to turn it down.
“Starving. Thank you.”
What the fuck.
We eat dinner as a family and Sara participates in the conversation, asking her kids silly questions and laughing at their answers. I start to relax, thinking maybe she hit rock bottom and it was enough to snap her out of it.
She gives the kids baths and puts them to bed. I don’t remember the last time she did that. When I first got here, I guess. Nothing is amiss, so why does my gut tell me something is off? I wish I could call or text Kian and talk to him about it. He’d know what was going on and explain it to me. He’s perceptive with human behavior.
But before I can do that, I need to apologize, and I need to make it something special. That’ll require much more planning on my part and I’m too tired tonight. I’ll get a good night’s sleep and deal with it tomorrow. I only hope I didn’t do more damage than what’s repairable.
I grab a beer and sit down on the couch, hoping to have a conversation with Sara before I pass out. She returns a few minutes later, pouring herself a glass of wine. I raise my brows at her when she walks into the living room and sits across from me. I know I tossed all the liquor in the kitchen last night. She must be hiding it in her room.
“I can have a glass of wine, Archer. I’m fine.”
“Okay, I’m not judging,” I say, even though I am.
“Listen, I’m sorry.” Immediately, her eyes well with tears. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I love how well you get on with the kids. It puts me at ease.”
“I raised you, didn’t I?”
“You did. I wish we had a different childhood. I would’ve given anything to have normal parents. But that wasn’t in the cards for us, so I’m glad I at least had you. I hope you know I love you and I’m so grateful I had you to take care of me. It makes me happy to know you’ll always be there for my kids, too.” She sniffles and wipes her nose with the sleeve of her cardigan.
“Why does this sound so ominous?” Dread churns in my gut. She’s done a complete one-eighty and something about it doesn’t feel right. At all.
“It’s not. It’s good. I promise. I feel better than I have in a long time. I have a plan in place. Everything’s going to be fine.” She’s still crying, but she smiles through the tears. It gives me hope.