“It’s not the same as our parents, Sara. Emmy and Lou have you. We didn’t have anyone but each other.”
I hate that she feels like she’d done the same thing to her kids that our parents did to us. Our parents were so wrapped up in each other and their own drama, they completely forgot they had kids. Sara’s not that kind of parent. Maybe Chad is, but Sara isn’t.
“But it felt the same to me. The d-depression”—she swallows thickly—“it was like a crushing weight on my chest. I was drowning and I didn’t see a way out. I tried to fight it, but it felt impossible. I’d lie awake at n-night thinking my kids would be so much better off without me. You would be better off, too. You were so good with them and they took an instant liking to you. In my sick brain, I knew you’d be a much better parent to them. After all, you were an incredible parent to me.”
“Obviously not if this is where we are now.” I motion to the room around us.
“Archer, Sara’s brain doesn’t work the same as a healthy person’s brain does. Some of her thought processes are greatly skewed by chemical imbalances and childhood trauma. None of that has anything to do with you. Even if you had done every single thing perfectly, she might still feel and think the same way. From what Sara has told me, you did a wonderful job given you were only two years older than her.” Colleen smiles and although she’s complimenting me, this feels too personal for a stranger to be intervening.
“Anyway, I’d been drinking a lot. I was g-good at hiding it. Until I wasn’t. The night at Focus was my breaking point, once I had sobered enough to remember what happened. That night I got it in my head that I needed to end my life. I came up with a plan. I was excited. I was finally doing something right. I was putting my kids’ needs ahead of mine and I just knew it was for the best.” Her eyes plead with me to understand, but I don’t. How could she think I’d be better off without her?
“I knew something was off. You went from so sad to almost giddy. I feel dumb now because it was so obvious. Even Kian told me I should be worried, but I believed things were taking a turn, so I ignored him.”
“I know. And I’m sorry about that, too.”
“Well, I think that’s enough serious for now.” Colleen clicks her pen shut and closes her notebook she’s been jotting down who knows what on. “I know you have a lot more to talk about, but this was a good start.”
“So what’s next? How much longer will she be here?” I ask.
“Sara?” Colleen refers to my sister.
“Not much l-longer. They’re helping me get on some anti-depressants and if it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay at least another week. I want to come back home when I’m stronger. I don’t want this to happen again.”
“Whatever you need. I don’t want this to happen again either.” I’ll get a second job if I have to. Anything to keep seeing the light in her eyes get brighter.
“That’s what I like to hear. I’ll leave you two to visit, and hopefully you can come back next week for another session, Archer?” Colleen asks.
“Sure.”
She exits the room, leaving Sara and me alone. I take her in. She looks strong. She’s put on a little weight, her back is straighter, and the circles under her eyes are almost gone.
“You look so much healthier,” I say.
“I feel better than I have in a long time, even though I miss the kids and I feel guilty for leaving them and you.”
“I brought pictures.” I pull out my phone, not wanting her to focus too much on the negative. I click on my camera reel and hand it over.
Her eyes brighten and her smile returns as she scrolls through the images. There are pictures of our hiking trip, picnics in the park, messy sherbet grins, and some art projects Kian had made with them.
“Aww, I m-miss them something fierce.” She hugs the phone to her chest.
“They miss you, too. A lot.”
“There’s a lot in here with Kian,” she notes.
“He’s been watching them during the day. First, when you were in the hospital and now, while I’m at work. The kids love him and he’s so damn cute with them.”
“I think the kids aren’t the only one smitten with him.”
“Sara,” I deadpan.
“What? Are you guys still hot and heavy?”
“No. After that night at Focus, he decided we were better off as friends.” I frown remembering that argument. It seems like a lifetime ago.
“And w-what do you want?” She peers up at me.
“I want you to be healthy and happy. That’s my focus right now.”
“And I love you for it. But after I come home, I want you to find your own place and live your own life. You’ve spent too much time raising your baby sister. I need to stand on my own two feet and figure out what I want to do with my life.”
“There’s no rush. I don’t think it’s smart for me to leave you right away.”
“I mean, maybe not the day I get home, but I’ve had time to think. I relied on you growing up, then I moved onto Chad the second you left. I want to discover who I am. What I want.”
“How will you decide?”
“Being here helps. From sunup to sundown, I have therapy sessions. Group therapy, one-on-one therapy, art therapy, music therapy, you name it. It’s been an entire week of working on myself. I feel something I h-haven’t felt maybe ever.” Her eyes glisten and she holds my hand. “I have hope. Thank you for always having my back.”
“Always, Sara.” I take her in my arms and hug her tight.
After a tour of where’s she’s been staying and being introduced to some of the friends she’s made, I leave Seasons of Maine with peace in my soul. She’s where she needs to be to get better. And maybe, just maybe, I can start thinking about what I want my life to look like.
Kian
I wake up Sunday feeling apprehensive. It’s the first day we both have off since I moved in and I don’t know how it’s going to go. Do I leave and give him and the kids space? Do I stick around and hang out with them? Do I lock myself in Sara’s room all day and hide?
A knock sounds on the door and I scramble to throw some clothes on. I tried to sleep with underwear on since I’m not at home, but I like things to breathe at night.
“Just a second.” I yank a pair of running shorts on and open the door to find little, sweet Emmy standing there in her princess dress pajamas, her hair matted to the side of her head, and the most adorable smile on her face.
“I want toast. Help.” She tugs on my arm, pulling me to the kitchen. I immediately regret not putting a shirt on when I find Archer, also shirtless, staring at bread on the kitchen counter with an egg in his hand. His physique is intimidating and since I’ve seen pictures of him and Mason, I know Archer must have a type. And that type isn’t a skinny, out of shape noodle.
My thoughts are squashed when he notices me standing by the island. His lips part, his eyes go to half-mast, and the egg he was holding falls to the ground.
“Uh-oh,” Emmy says.
“Damn it.” Archer scrambles, grabbing a paper towel and dropping to the ground. His gaze jumps from the mess to me and back again.