“For what? Eating Mexican food?” I spread out tomato sauce on the rectangular dough. “C’mon, Renn. No court is going to issue a restraining order for some texts he sent over a year ago and an accidental run-in during dinner.”
“I know.” Renn hmphed as he came up behind me, pressing his chest to my back. “But I don’t have to like it.”
“Even if he showed up here tomorrow, there are no words he could say to change anything. I’m with you, and it’s exactly where I want to be.”
That seemed to reassure him. He continued to rest his chin on my shoulder, breath tickling my skin. “Sorry. I think I’m just pissed because Robbie is still acting up.”
“Acting up?” Renn hadn’t mentioned anything new regarding Robbie’s behavior. “What’s going on?”
“School called. He almost finished the detention from the desk thing, but apparently he made a scene at an assembly this morning so they’re adding a few more days. If anything else happens, they’ll suspend him.” Renn moved back and leaned his elbows against the counter. Noticing the concerned look on my face, he hurried to add, “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”
I shook my head. Ever since Snowglobegate, I’d been hyperaware of Renn’s behavior when it came to dealing with difficult situations or emotions. He only appeared to have two modes—pretend they didn’t exist, versions of “nothing’s wrong,” or refuse to discuss them, versions of “I’m fine.” Sometimes both. It was maddening.
Dammit with this going it alone horseshit.How come me being a surrogate was something for both of us to discuss and tackle together, but when the issue was about him or his family, it was for him to figure out on his own?
I was about to push the subject when the front door opened. Robbie and Ryder made their way into the kitchen, shedding coats and backpacks along the way.
“Hey, Sadie.” Robbie seemed in a rare good mood as he turned to Renn. “Bro, is it okay if Ryder stays for dinner? We want to play Mario.”
Renn exhaled thickly. “Funny thing,bro. I got a call from your school today. They said you made quite the impression during assembly.”
Robbie and Ryder looked at each other, then started cracking up. “Those things are so dumb,” Robbie said. “They brought in anexpert…” He used air quotes. “To talk about mental health and suicide prevention.” The tethers of the karmic universe must have been snapping as I recalled these presentations were funded by organizations like the one Renn had been supporting at the House Party of Hope so long ago.
Renn narrowed his eyes at his brother, and I was sure it was only Ryder’s presence that kept him from unleashing. “And what’s so bad about that?”
Robbie kept laughing, but in a forced way, almost hysterical. He shoved his hands in his pockets and refused to meet Renn’s gaze. “It’s just so lame when they try to tell you how special you are, how much everyone will miss you if you do something so…final.” The laughter died on his face. “I don’t need anyone to explain to me what it’s like when someone commits suicide.”
Poor Ryder did not register the temperature change in the room, continuing to chuckle as he added, “It was awesome. Robbie straight up walked out in the middle of the assembly and shouted, ‘cool TED Talk dude’ to the presenter. The whole school saw. So epic.”
I looked at Robbie, standing stoically next to his friend. He reminded me of myself sometimes. I’d lived enough life to comprehend there were times when rule-breaking was necessary to one’s mental health—because sometimes “the rules” were a suffocating, untenable box. People dismissed this as “acting out.” Robbie chose not to be subjected to pain, on display for his entire school. He acted out instead. Running and anger and avoidance. Those were his coping mechanisms. As a kid, mine had been shutting down. I had considerable empathy for Robbie’s pain. He needed help to manage it.
Renn’s voice penetrated my thoughts as he spoke gently to his brother. “I get why you left.”
I couldn’t stop the thought from forming in my brain.Of course Renn got it—he modeled the practice of turning away from his emotions every day.
Renn turned to his brother. “Ryder can stay. But Robbie…?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to do the detention. Without complaint. I understand the reason you took off, but you have to face the consequences. Otherwise, they’ll suspend you.”
Robbie nodded and grabbed Ryder’s arm, tugging him toward the den.
Renn started chopping up romaine for a salad while I went back to scattering bell peppers on the dough. I wanted to talk to him about finding better ways to deal with his own grief and anger, that I didn’t think Robbie could get better until he did.
I was still ruminating on how best to broach that discussion when Pete and Gage came in from Little League. Considering Gage’s team had two or three games per week—many with the extremely-unfriendly-to-working-parents start time of 4:30—we’d agreed that attending them would require a group effort between Renn, Pete, Archie, and myself.
Pete’s schedule was the most flexible, so he had been covering the lion’s share. He and Gage continued to spend more time together. Pete hadn’t made progress with Robbie, but I’d often found him playing games or building Lego sets with Gage. His uncle’s presence still put Renn on edge, even though he’d resigned himself to its frequency.
We’d been expecting them back a little earlier, but the reason for the delay became clear when Pete hefted a grocery tote full of ice cream sundae supplies.
He saw Renn glaring at the bag. “Don’t worry, Renn. I already told Gage you had to agree, but we wanted to celebrate that little man hit his first home run today!”
“A home run!” Renn gave Gage a fist bump. “Awesome job buddy!”
“It was so cool!” This was the first year Gage was in the division where players pitched to each other, and he’d been struggling more than when he’d played T-Ball or coach toss. “I think I’m finally getting the swing of it! Get it—theswingof it.” Gage laughed as he bounced up and down on his heels. “Uncle Pete told me that one.”
“That’s great. Hey, listen—your brother is in the den with Ryder playingMario Kart. Go in and tell them I said you get to take a turn, to celebrate your hit.”