Okay, that's it. This pity party needs to end. Maybe if I just turn enough to my side, I might be able to smother myself with my own pillow. I'm even on my own nerves at this point. I just don't know how to feel it any less dramatically. I don't know how to let myself grieve my babies without being all end-of-the-world and doom-and-gloom about it. It consumes me, but the pain is a welcome reminder that I haven't forgotten them and that I don't love them any less than I did the day they were born. That I don't miss them any less than the day I lost them.
"You better be eating your food," Jim hollers from behind the closed bedroom door, his voice carrying as he walks down the hall. He made me bacon and eggs for breakfast. That was hours ago, though, and I still haven't touched them. Ryan snuck in to give me a rare kiss a little while ago and managed to walk out with a fist full of bacon. It was the only thing that made me laugh all day. Ian normally tries to cheer me up when I'm sad, but he knows what today is, and he couldn't bring himself to try. Up until about a year ago, he used to tell me that he misses his baby sister and brother. He used to say he wanted to teach Michael how to ride a bike and that he wishes he could hold Alexandra one more time.
"Answer me, babe."
I try to respond, but nothing comes out. Today is the first time Jim's ever seen me like this--near catatonic. Part of me hopes this is going to be the first and last time. But then, I also hope it isn't. I hate feeling crazy, but I can't ever feel like I don't care about my babies anymore.
The door creaks open, and Jim stares at me through the small crack between the door and frame. His eyes are sad, but the smile on his lips tries to hide it. He closes the door a moment later and shouts at the boys to get ready to leave. I don't know where they're going, and he doesn't bother to tell me. After breakfast, he announced that they'd be playing video games in the living room. And later, he let me know they'd be in the backyard working on their fighting skills. Grady had come by to help Jim with giving the boys tips. This is their thing--it's important to Jim that he teach our boys how to defend themselves. Judging by the moves I've seen previously, Jim had already taught Ryan a few things, so I suspect this is more for Ian than anything. I'd say it's a kind gesture, but it's not. This is just who Jim is when he's not drinking himself stupid and snorting shit that makes him act like somebody he's not. The thought makes me burst into tears again.
Eventually I stop crying and give up on trying to sleep, so I go for just staring up at the ceiling and trying to make patterns out of the popcorn texture. I don't know how long I lie there for. I just know that the boys leave and come back and then leave again for dinner at Chief's house with his family. Before they left, the boys brought me snack cakes, and Jim forced me to sit up enough to drink water. I didn't want it, but he held my nose closed until I had to draw a breath and inadvertently sucked in some water. Bastard. It hurt going down, and I mentally cussed him out for nearly an hour. At some point, I managed to reason with myself. Jim was doing it to help me, not hurt me, and so I took back all those curses I put on his dick. Even knowing that he's taking care of me, I still can't bring myself to not hate him and everything in this world except those four kids that mean more to me than my own life.
When they return after dinner, Jim pulls me up and forces me to drink water again. I lie loose in his arms, letting him support my weight, and I fight swallowing until he says the only thing that can get through to me. "You're scaring our boys, Ian especially. I've tried to keep him out of here so he doesn't have to see you like this, but it's not easy. Elle asked where you were tonight, and when Ryan shot his mouth off, telling the entire table why, Ian ran from the table. It took me thirty minutes to get him to come out of the bathroom, and when he did, he'd scratched the shit out of his arms and neck. You need to pull your shit together, because I'm doing all I can here, but it's not enough. He needs you."
When the sting of his honesty subsides, I take a sip of water, and it feels so good to my parched throat that I gulp down the rest of the glass greedily. When I'm done, Jim places the glass on the bedside table. We stay like that for a few minutes before I force myself up from the bed. Jim gives me space as I change and wash my face and even brush my hair. I have my hand on the doorknob before he speaks again.
"Those kids, they're not dirty little secrets. You don't have two kids--you have four. Three boys and one girl. Next year, we buy a cake and celebrate their birthday even if they're not here with us. On Christmas, we hang their stockings, buy them presents--even if those presents go to the shelter after--and we make damn sure this year doesn't repeat itself. Our sons deserve to know those babies exist. They have every right to share in their mother's pain. You don't shut us out. Next time you need a time out, just say so, and we'll head out. But not on days when Ian and Ryan need you. Got that?"
My eyes fall closed, but no tears fall. I'm literally out of juice, so I just nod my agreement. Jim comes up behind me, wrapping me in a hug, and kisses the top of my head.
"Sorry you're hurting, babe. You need something, we'll get you to a doctor. But I can't do this alone. Ian needs his mom."
"I know," I say and leave the room to go pretend to be happy with my boys.
CHAPTER 16
March 1998