“You think I don’t see, but I do. YouknowI do. You’re trapped somewhere in the middle of Afghanistan, and you’re killing yourself with booze and whatever the fuck else to escape. But I’m just telling you that, unlike my dad, you’renotalone. I’m right there with you, and if you wouldn’t let me die out there, then I’m not letting you die there either. Weneedyou here, weloveyou, and we want you to loveusenough to stay and win this fight.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I thought about Sid’s father a lot after that.
Sometimes, I thought about what kind of demons he’d fought quietly until he lost the battle.
Other times, I thought about the demons he’d invited to live inside his son after exposing him to the unthinkable trauma of watching his own father put a bullet in his brain—and how Sid hadn’t allowed those demons to take over astounded me in ways I wasn’t sure I’d ever verbalize.
But what I thought about most was how easy it must’ve been to end it all. The sweet relief of finally being released from that proverbial cage. And, no, I couldn’t pretend to understand what it’d been like for him to survive as a POW, but that didn’t make my own inner monster any quieter. The one who looked and sounded an awful lot like the man who’d raised me.
Truth be told, I hadn’t thought much about killing myself prior to my sister’s wedding night. Yes, I had thought about dying. Yes, I had even wished for death torelieve me from this life. But I had never actually considered that I could be the one to put an end to all my suffering. And how silly of me to have never let it cross my mind when, suddenly, it all seemed so obvious, so clear.
But I didn’t want to do it. Or at least not yet. Not when I still could hear Sid’s pleading voice, begging me to love them all enough to stay and fight.
So, I tried.
I tried for another year. I tried all the way to the following Christmas Eve, when I was thirty-two, and Lucy was pregnant with their first baby, and Grace was hoping Sid would propose soon, and my father begrudgingly agreed to allow me to come home for Christmas per my sisters’ nagging requests.
I hadn’t seen him since the night of the wedding, and now, standing on his front porch, I wasn’t sure what it would be like to see him again. Especially after I’d humiliated him publicly.
I sucked in a deep breath of frigid air until my lungs ached, and then I rang the doorbell and anxiously waited for someone to pull the door open. Would it be my father? Was it possible my mother had dragged herself out of bed to celebrate Christmas Eve, in the way she had for Lucy’s wedding—or had that just been for the sake of keeping up appearances?
I laughed to myself. How embarrassed would my father have been if my mom had decided to sleep her daughter’s wedding day away? God, how would he have explainedthatone? Having to apologize for the son who’d had a little too much to drink suddenly seemed to pale incomparison to the complete absence of his wife, and I wished she hadn’t come. Maybe then my father wouldn’t have been so fucking pissed at me for the last year over one stupid little incident.
Come on. He’d be pissed regardless. He always has been … and over much less.
Maybe not though. People change. Look at me. I changed.
I ran my hand over the beard I’d grown that was possibly a little too scraggly and unkempt.
Yeah, but he doesn’t.
Not yet, but—
The door was thrown open, and there stood my pregnant sister. She smiled and outstretched her arms, and I stepped into the embrace, wrapping my arms around her waist.
“You’re here,” she said quietly, her smile pressed to my shoulder.
I tightened my hold on her. “I said I’d come.”
“Yeah, but …” She sighed, and that spoke more than any words could.
I’d said a lot of things over the past year. I told Ricky I’d help them move into their new house … but didn’t. I told Grace I’d come for a game night at her apartment in Boston … but didn’t. I canceled holiday plans, declined invitations to hang out from Sid and Ricky, and just flat-out failed to show my face on a number of occasions. Not without reasons, all of which had seemed perfectly valid at the time. I’d been hungover, my anxiety had been too intense, the effort to roll out of bed and rake a comb through my hair had felt like too much … the list went on and on, and it had all made sense at the time, but now, feeling Lucy’s big, round belly pressed against me, I realized I’d missed so much.
I’d missed so much for so long.
They’re doing life without me … and they’re fine. They’d be even better if they weren’t worrying about me, always calling me, always inviting me to do things and go places.
They shouldn’t be worrying about anything.
Especially me.
Lucy stood back, keeping her hands on my shoulders. She smiled, taking in my appearance as if she hadn’t seen me in months … but that was true, wasn’t it? When was the last time I’d seen her? July? August maybe?
What the hell have I done these past few months?
Her smile faltered a little as her eyes landed on my face. “You look tired, Max,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Have you been sleeping?”
