Nathan bore witness to the growing bond between Luke and Lucy, which fed a storm of growing resentment for the both of them. He began to refuse backyard playtime invitations from Luke, instead retreating to his room. He would spy through the window as Luke, Molly and Lucy played without him.
Luke would sometimes see his little hands holding open the blinds watching them. He’d gesture for Nathan to come and join them, but those hands would instantly retreat, as Nathan backed away from the window. Luke would leave Molly and Lucy to come inside to talk to him. But there was no breaking down that wall.
More than once, Luke urged Sandra to seek professional help for Nathan. While Molly had adjusted readily to the divorce and subsequent introduction of Luke as a stepfather, it was clear that Nathan was slower coming along. These withdrawals from normal interactions with the family had Luke concerned for his mental wellbeing.
Sandra was resistant. No one in her family had ever seen a therapist, and to her mind, there was a stigma attached to the need for that kind of help. Her pride had her afraid that Nathan might be branded some kind of troubled kid. She also worried that taking him for counseling services now might set him up to be dependent going forward.
Having himself benefited from the help of professional counselors, Luke’s perspective was a stark contrast. He recognized that the best time to address such behaviors was at their genesis. The alternative was merely to hope Nathan would “Grow out of it,” as Sandra suggested.
He initiated one such discussion in the kitchen one evening after dinner. The children otherwise occupied, Luke brought it up again, as he loaded the dishwasher and Sandra went about wiping the counters.
He watched her spine straighten as he said the words. “I really wish you would consider having him see somebody. I’ve got experience with this. I’m sure I could find someone good for him.”
He couldn’t help himself. He absolutely knew where it would lead, but he simply could not help himself. He wasn’t baiting her. He didn’t want to fight. The truth was, he loved Nathan. He’d come into this family and he loved them. All of them. It was clear that Nathan was being set up for greater problems down the road and it was equally evident that Sandra’s stubborn denial was clearing the way for just such a future. He thought if he made it clear he wasn’t backing down, that Sandra would eventually see his persistence as a sincere concern.
She spun to face him, her grip tightening around the wet rag in her hand.
“Why do you insist on projecting your issues onto Nathan? I mean, clearly that’s what this is.”
Now that one he was not expecting. It caught him completely off guard, most especially because it was categorically untrue, and obviously a dig at him. It was an indirect way of saying that real men didn’t seek that kind of help, that Luke’s past was full of weak moments and that because he’d once needed help, he was somehow less of a man.
He swallowed before responding. He didn’t want to escalate the discussion. “I’m not projecting anything. I want him to thrive. And if he gets the right help now, he’ll have that chance.”
He should have left it at that. She stopped for a moment and he knew she was contemplating what he’d said. But he didn’t force himself to pause a second time and the words trickled out before he could contain them.
“It’s like you take it as a personal failure to admit that your son needs a little help.”
That was a fatal error. Sandra tossed the rag across the room and it landed with a splash into the sink next to him. The comment hit too close to home.
“There’s nothing some shrink can do for Nathan that I can’t do for him myself! There’s no magic words they’re gonna say to him that will be any better than mine. I know my son.”
That was another typical dig, referring to the children specifically as hers, as though the time, love and commitment he’d shown them qualified him as something akin to a babysitter and not a parent.
She was now stomping off to their bedroom and he was close behind. What ensued next was just another version of what had occurred on so many previous occasions. There were just different words. Different sentences strung together for the same purpose.
He hated that there was yelling in his house. He hated his role in making it a regular occurrence. And once their arguments reached that crescendo, there was just no way of diffusing it. He knew what it did to a kid, because he’d lived it.
He closed the door behind them and tried to take it down a notch. The natural inclination was to lower his voice as they continued, hoping that she would follow. But that infuriated her. From her perspective, he’d picked a fight just for the sake of it. And now he expected her to whisper. Wasn’t going to happen.
Her anger had her flinging words that had little to do with the situation at hand and more to do with her own frustrations. She was the mother of two young children and already into her second marriage. She’d fallen hard and fast for Luke. After ignoring every bit of wisdom from friends and family, she’d married him just six months after her divorce.
She already knew marriage number two was another crash and burn. She felt stupid. There was no other way to say it. The sting of that realization felt like brutal retribution for her foolish decision to marry him.
These fights were building to something. She knew it and he knew it. And given the inevitable nature of that realization, she afforded Luke little if any weight in decisions regarding the children.
In this moment, she was grateful that he could not read her mind, because she had this flash of a thought cross it just then. It was awful and ironic and she was ashamed to think it. But it was there. Why bother getting Nathan into counseling now? Might as well wait until after this divorce and deal with the whole mess at once.
Luke couldn’t yell back at her. All he could picture was the two children glued to their beds, each holding a pillow around their heads to block out the noise. That’s what he’d done so many times as a child. Instead he would say some last words about how he didn’t want to yell. He just wanted to clear the air. Didn’t matter how he said it or what the words were. It was always the same. One more angry line from her and it was time for retreat.
He’d grab his keys and head for the door. Sometimes more yelling came from behind as he left. Sometimes it was a slamming door. Once in a while something spoken softly but with a potent sting nonetheless.
This time it was, “Yeah. You do that. Run away. It’s what you do.”
He opened the bedroom door to see Lucy scrunched up in the farthest corner of the hallway. The kids’ doors were both closed. He knew that she would have been with Molly otherwise. Lucy didn’t like the yelling either. And when he gestured her to follow, she was up and after him instantly.
When he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, she knew it was time for a ride. She stayed close on his heels, whining in anticipation. He opened the door to the SUV and she jumped in without coaxing, taking a seat on the passenger side.
The night was cool, but he left the windows down, so that she could stand with her front paws at the window’s ledge, her head outside the vehicle. The wind in her face, she could fully enjoy scents and smells sucked into her nostrils and expelled again in rapid succession. There was no better way to ride.
She knew the route. They’d taken it enough times. Luke pulled into the parking lot and Lucy’s heart raced at the anticipation of what was to come. He opened the door and she bounded out. He was unconcerned as she sped off ahead of him. She knew the way. He smiled at her excitement.
She seemed to understand that this field was a place of reprieve for him. More than that, it was the one place where she could sense true happiness in him. She was as excited to feel that contentment within him as she was the opportunity to let loose herself.
The lights were off, but the night was clear. A bright moon and a sky full of stars were enough to see by. Lucy was already off and running, scanning the field ahead of her. The tennis ball would be coming any second now.
&n
bsp; Off to the left, it zoomed over her head before bouncing and rolling along. She raced ahead to snatch it up and speed back toward him. Dropping it at his feet, she arched back her head and barked as if to say, “Again! Again!”
As Luke’s arm rose to send the ball flying, she was already racing back the other way, waiting for it. Over and over they went like this. And Luke would always know when it was time for a break. Although Lucy’s heart wanted to run that field forever, he could see her slowing down. It was then that he would take the ball that last time and settle someplace in the grass comfortably on his back, his eyes scanning the sky.
This seemed to be their pattern. They’d play hard and with abandon, forgetting everything and everyone else. For that briefest time, it was all about these tiny flashes of joy in and amongst the longer hours of loneliness.
In quiet moments such as this, Luke would let in contemplative thoughts that he’d never shared with anyone. Was she out there anywhere? Was Grace there somewhere? Had she forgotten him? Had she found some kind of peace and moved on? Or was she waiting for him?
Of all the moments of grief and regret, the greatest was the raw powerlessness of it. There was never an answer. No signs, no reassurance. Just the quiet night and the electricity of a million stars. Lucy scooted closer to him and rested her chin on his chest just then, her expressive beagle eyes finding his. He stroked her head and smiled at the sweet face. “Good girl, Lucy. Good girl.”
* * * * *
The days whizzed by. With football season in full throttle, Luke was gone more now. Sandra was always beginning or ending some new project at work, which had her leaving early and arriving home late. Their frenzied schedules provided a natural buffer between them and served to postpone the inevitable. In the meantime, life went on.
The children spent longer times with sitters. Molly, being the younger and more friendly of the two, was the beneficiary of the greater proportion of attention.
It was just one more thing for Nathan to add to his growing list of complaints. But he learned to capitalize, understanding that without the constancy of prying eyes, he was free to torment Lucy with increased frequency. And because he’d never been caught, the brazen nature of these acts was growing.
Lucy tried to keep from his company, but it was less and less avoidable. More than once, Molly had come running from another room after hearing her let out a pained wail. Nathan would behave as though completely perplexed and offering no explanation.
“Dogs are stupid. They bark for no reason,” he shrugged.
Molly would call Lucy away with her and Nathan would smile at their backs. He was winning.
As acting is not one of a dog’s many notable talents, it grew obvious by the day that Lucy was afraid of Nathan. She might lose her bladder when he came into the room. She might be found frantically scratching Molly’s closed bedroom door in an effort to escape. Still, no one would have dared contemplate the disturbing truth.
With Luke gone more often now, Molly confided in the babysitter that she thought Nathan might be being mean to Lucy. The sitter hadn’t seen any evidence herself and was not about to accuse the boy of abuse without a shred of proof.
Molly knew it. She felt it in her gut and read it on Lucy’s face and in her body language. And she was brave enough to talk about it one night during story time in her room before bed.
“Mommy,” she whispered, when the story was over, the book closed, “Nathan is mean to Lucy. I think he’s been hurting her. She’s scared of him.”
They both glanced over to see the beagle curled up in Molly’s closet, her favorite spot in the house. Sandra was as stubborn in this instance of criticism for her son as she was with Luke’s insistence that he needed professional help. To her mind, Luke’s attitude was now pushing Molly to share his irrational and negative view of Nathan. The sting of it had her answering in a less than loving way.
“Molly, that is a hateful thing to say about your brother. You tell me right now that you didn’t mean that. You tell me right now and I will pretend you never said it.”
Molly was instantly ashamed for having spoken of Nathan that way, even as she felt sure she was right. It was an odd predicament for a child. She’d always been counseled to tell the truth, and she always had. Here she was telling the truth again. Yet something in her mother’s words made her feel ashamed, made her doubt herself. She wasn’t a grownup. She was just a kid. And grownups knew better about most things. Could her mother somehow know that she was wrong just by looking at her? Could adults do that? Somehow hear your words and look at you and tell right then and there that you were wrong? She didn’t know.
“I’m sorry, mommy. I didn’t mean it. I thought it was true. Maybe I just remembered it wrong.”
Sandra hugged her and kissed her on the forehead.
“I know I’ve been working a lot, but I’m just finishing a big project and I won’t have to work as much from Halloween all the way till Christmas,” she said with a smile. “We’ll have a lot more time for fun stuff.”
“Okay,” Molly smiled.
Sandra rose from the bed. It was Nathan’s story time now.
“I won’t tell Nathan what you said, Molly. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“Okay.”
Molly was asleep by the time Sandra had finished with Nathan. And Nathan was still awake when Luke arrived home. The muffled talk coming from his parents’ bedroom grew progressively louder, until he could make out some of what was being said. He’d never heard his mother say some of those words before.
Mom was talking about Lucy and Molly and him. The F word? Mom used the F word! And she used it when talking about he and Molly, that the two of them were both acting F-ing crazy now.
To hear her say his name and that bad word and the word crazy all in the same sentence made his heart beat like it would jump out of his chest. He wondered if it was breaking, if that was what a broken heart felt like.
And all at once he wanted to tell her how sorry he was. He wanted to say it over and over so that she would never say those things about him again. It frightened him that he could make her feel that way. It frightened him into wanting to take everything back. Every single thing. But mom and dad were having a really loud fight. He couldn’t go in there right now.
Luke was responding to Sandra’s last comment about the children. He hated that he was engaging in this again. He hated that her irrational arguing had him feeling ready with a host of sarcastic comebacks. He didn’t want to do it. But that last line set up the most obvious response. “If you think your kids are crazy, then it’s you who needs a therapist.”
Nathan heard Luke’s heavy feet leave their bedroom and head down the hall. Lucy heard him, too. She was scratching to be let out of Molly’s room. Then came the distinct sound of Luke’s footsteps returning to crack Molly’s door open and allow Lucy to come out. Lucy followed him down the hall and waited by the front door, tail wagging and Luke went to retrieve his car keys. On nights such as these, he never left without her.
* * * * *
The following morning, a Saturday, Nathan awoke as a different child. The first one up, he scooped Lucy’s food into her bowl. He poured cereal for himself and found the cartoon station on the television. Luke was sleeping on the couch. Lucy was curled up on the floor next to him.
“You hungry, Lucy?” he whispered when he’d finished his breakfast.
She settled in tighter, bracing for what was to come. He was too close. She wanted him away from her.
When he left to retrieve her food bowl, she relaxed slightly. But just as quickly, he was back. Her heart thudded as her fight or flight instincts each fought for control.
“Here you go.”
The smell of food filled her nostrils and her stomach rumbled in response. But she behaved as though oblivious. The boy had fooled her too many times.
Nathan reached out to touch her as a low grumble came out in warning. Even now she had tender bruises from where he’d struck her previousl
y along the ribs. She’d had more than one opportunity to bite him the past, but always she held back. This morning was not the time to test her. She’d passed the threshold of tolerance for anymore of what Nathan was dishing out.
He reached out to pet her on the head and she snapped at his hand. To Nathan, it was only by some stroke of luck that he was able to pull back in time to avoid the bite. It wasn’t true. Had she truly intended to, Lucy could have found his flesh with her teeth. This was a warning. A final warning.
Nathan rubbed his hand and stretched it out in front of him, imagining what it would have looked like if Lucy had bit him, what it would have felt like. It would have been just like that terrible movie he saw so long ago, where the demon dog had ripped off somebody’s hand and ran away with it.
His heart pounded in his chest. And all the feelings of the previous night came flooding back. The shame of what his mother had said about him was presented anew through Lucy’s anger. Both had clearly articulated what they truly thought of him. They were right. That was what he told himself. They were right.
His racing heart still bouncing in his chest at what had just occurred, Nathan could not withhold the tears. He cried for what his mother thought of him. He cried about Lucy wanting to bite him and for what he’d done to make her feel that way. But mostly, he cried about daddy. Everything started with that. Everything started the day he left.
Nathan’s sobbing had Luke stirring on the couch. He sat up groggy, scanning the room before he realized where he was. Another night on the couch.
Lucy remained on alert, but was looking at Nathan with curiosity. Crying was a recognizable expression of distress and his drastically fluctuating affect was perplexing to her. Luke realized that Nathan was crying and was equally confused. Whatever had happened to start this episode, he’d clearly missed it.