Mac sat at the head of the Anderson’s kitchen table, fiddling in his
plate and struggling to appear interested in everyone else’s day.
“Dad,
the softball coach told Mom that he’s considering me as one of his
starting pitchers this year,” his teenage daughter, Jillian, announced
excitedly.
“That’s great, Jill,” Mac replied, so consumed with
worry over his own life and the mounting pressures at work that he’d
become blind to anything else.
“I thought so,” Jillian countered, her giant smile fading away.
“And
Joe’s assigned me a new investigation,” Jen jumped in, as she passed
the mashed potatoes. “Although I don’t know the details just yet, it
looks like it’s going to take place at City Hall.”
The kids squirmed nervously in their chairs.
“If it means more time away from the house,” Mac explained, “then I’m not sure…”
“We’ve gone over this, Mac,” Jen snapped. “It’s time for you to step up and start really helping out around here!”
“And I haven’t been doing that?” he asked, glaring at his wife.
“Please stop,” Bella said, “all you do is fight now.” Becoming upset, she stood and hurried out of the room.
Jenn glared back at him. “Nice, Mac.”
Jillian and Brady got up and followed their sister out of the family’s boxing ring.
Mac shook his frustrated head. “I have too much going on right now to argue, Jen.”
“We need to talk about this, Mac, and come to some sort of agreement,” she pressed.
Mac’s
cell phone rang. He started to answer it when Jen gave him a look that
could have ended his life. He let it go to voicemail. For the first time
in a long time, Mac realized that his wife needed to be heard. It
scared him.
He sensed it was
absolutely critical that life stay as it was— at least until I figure
out what the hell’s going on inside me and how to handle it.
“As much as you think my life rotates around only you,” she said, speaking slowly, “I still have my own dreams that I need to…”
“Mac, please,” she shouted, her face cherry-red.
He shut up, but Jen couldn’t continue. Nostrils flaring, she headed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.
⧝
Mac took a few deep breaths. I need to tell her how bad it’s gotten,
he decided. She needs to know. He followed her into the living room.
“Jen,” he said, hoping to explain, “it’s just that I…I…feel sick.”
Jen shook her head, cutting off his babble. “You should feel sick, Mac…with all of the drinking you’ve been doing lately.”
“No,” he whispered, “you don’t understand. I should have said something…”
She
stood and started for their bedroom. As she stomped out of the room,
she looked over her shoulder. “Sure, Mac,” she told him, “I never
understand.” She rolled her eyes just before disappearing from the room.
But you don’t understand, Mac told her in his thoughts. You
don’t understand how petrified I am over all of these changes…and how my
every waking moment is spent in a life-and-death battle with anxiety
and depression. His eyes filled, but he beat back the tears. You don’t
understand, Jen.
⧝
Sunday finally rolled around. Sitting alone at the kitchen table, Mac struggled to accomplish any real work that he could submit. My God, he thought, even my creativity has abandoned me. If I don’t dig my head out of my backside soon, I’m going to be…The kids barged into the kitchen, each of them speaking at the same time.
“We want to go to the fair, Dad,” Bella called out.
“Yeah,” Brady confirmed even louder, “we’ve been waiting all summer.”
Perturbed with the rude interruption, Mac shook his head. “Ask your mother,” he said, “I have a lot of work I need to finish.”
Jillian smirked. “Mom just said the same thing…to ask you, because she’s working on a deadline.”
“Of course she is,” Mac mumbled under his breath.
“Please, Dad,” Brady pleaded.
Mac shook his head again. “I can’t, guys. Not this time. Sorry.”
As if he’d just received the most devastating news, Brady burst into sobs. “But,,,but I’ve been looking forward to this all year, Dad,” he stammered, “and…and today’s the last day.”
“Yeah Dad,” Bella said, clearly struggling to stay strong. “If we don’t go to the fair today, we’ll have to wait another whole year.”
A plume of acidic bile rose in Mac’s throat, as he considered his wife’s newest delegation. Fair? he repeated in his pounding head, this isn’t fair.
Jillian stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “Please Dad,” she repeated in the sweetest voice; it was something Mac hadn’t heard from the glowering teenager in months.
Mac pushed his work away. Why not, he thought. Who needs stable employment anyway? He stood. “Fine, but when I say it’s time to go, then it’s time for us to go.” He scanned each of their hope-filled eyes.
“Of course, Dad,” they sang in unison, pure joy instantly replacing the disappointment in their faces, “of course!”
⧝
On the ride to the fairgrounds, while the kids joked and laughed, Mac seethed inside. It’s all about Jen now, he thought. Everything’s about her! It doesn’t matter what my wants or needs are. She calls the shots now. He shook his head. I realize that she just started a new job at the paper, but…
The kids broke out in excited chorus, with Jillian singing the loudest.
Mac took a few deep breaths, trying to keep his anger at bay. But I still have responsibilities outside of the house. Not to mention, I’ve been a complete emotional mess for weeks now. How can she not see that? He shook his head again. She’s my wife, for Pete’s sake! How can Jen not know that…
“Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…” the kids screeched.
Although he concealed his rage with a smile, Mac continued to burn up inside.
“…life is but a dream,” they finished.
Mac considered the lyrics. Life is but a dream all right, he thought, snickering, a living nightmare!
⧝
After parking the van in a brown field that had recently been covered in green grass, Mac shut off the ignition and turned to face his giddy children. “When I say it’s time to go,” he reminded them, “then it’s time for us to go.”
“We know, Dad!”
They burst out of the van and hurried for the long line at the front gate.
Mac dragged his feet behind them.
Friggin’ Jen, he thought, well aware that everything from the sweltering heat to the growing crowd had already crawled under his skin—and that he was happy to assign full blame to his delegating wife.
⧝
After paying twice what he should have for two adults and two children to enter the fairgrounds, Mac and his entourage paused to take it all in—the sights, sounds and smells.
“There’s the ticket booth for the rides,” Bella quickly pointed out.
“And we have to buy food tickets there, too,” Jillian advised.
Mac nodded. “We’ll come back for both. Let’s take a walk around first and get our bearings. Then we’ll know exactly what we need to buy.”
“Okay,” the kids agreed, their bodies nearly trembling from excitement.
Mac offered a real smile—for the first time. I might as well make the most of it, he thought, we’re here. He started for the far side of a massive field, with the kids buzzing around him like bees at every step.
⧝
Beneath a small white circus tent, its sides rolled up, Mac ducked his head and stepped in. The smells of manure immediately attacked him. The good life, he thought, scanning the interior of the dim tent.
The 4H Club was showing off their eclectic mix of livestock: from award-winning sheep—wearing their big blue ribbons—and massive fly-ingested steers, to a handful of gallant horses beside a pen of young, playful goats. Old turn-style candy machines, filled with feed pellets, were positioned outside of the pens and corrals. For a quarter, the kids could buy a full handful. Maybe half a handful for me, Mac considered.
Fortunately, Mac had a pocketful of quarters. “Don’t spill them,” he told the kids, as each one of them lined up to receive their bounty.
With two fistfuls of feed, Bella and Brady stepped up to the wire fence that surrounded the whining baby goats.
Mac immediately went into parent mode and began to teach. “Place your hands flat, with the food in the palm of your hand,” he explained. “This way, you won’t lose any fingers.”
While Jillian watched on from a short distance, both Bella and Brady did as they were told. The small goats licked their palms, causing a wave of giggles.
“See,” Mac said, “they’ll only lick the pellets from your hand. You might feel some nibbling, but they can’t even bite you if they want to.”
The kids giggled more. “It tickles, Dad,” Brady said.
Mac smiled wide; it was the first sense of happiness he’d felt in weeks. He sucked in a lungful of air and exhaled slowly. Maybe this was a good idea, after all, he thought, knowing he’d never admit it to his wife.
The kids were in no rush to leave the animals, and Mac was happy for it. He took the time watching his children and assessing their current stations in life.
Mac realized that the older Jillian got, the less she laughed.
That’s not good, he thought.
I hope it’s just the norm for her age. But there more changes, as well. The teenage girl never wore jewelry anymore, except for maybe the occasional plastic or rubber bracelet, featuring one motto or another.
And graphic t-shirts are now a staple for her, Mac thought, looking away when Jillian caught him gawking.
As long as she’s happy, he thought,
and comfortable in her own skin, then I’m happy for her.
Mac shifted his eyes to Bella and smiled.
Beans is still Daddy’s little girl, he confirmed in his mind, though the clock is ticking fast. Mac cringed every time he noticed growth in her, and today was no different.
Like Jillian—who once believed I was Prince Charming—that’ll soon change and she’ll suddenly be embarrassed to be in my company rather than wanting to snuggle with me on the recliner before bed. Just as his smile was about to disappear. Bella looked up at him and grinned. She had her mother’s sparkling eyes that shined for him with a love that could not be denied.
I love you too, babe, he thought.
Brady, on the other hand, was a clean slate; a sponge ready to suck up all the lessons and knowledge his dad was prepared to impart.
And there are tons that I look forward to sharing, Mac thought. Brady was still a baby in many ways, but he was also in a hurry to grow up and be able to claim his own identity—just as his sisters had done.
Please take it slow, little man, Mac told his son in his head.
Being grown up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, believe me.While the kids—including Jillian—fed quarters into the crank machines so they could feed the different animals, Mac took the time to inventory the work he and Jen had already put in.
For the most part, all three of them are polite and good, he decided, trying to choose right over wrong. In their smiles, there was forgiveness and healing.
And each of them is pretty much an open book when it comes to their feelings. They worry much less than most people, making their sleep sound. What I wouldn’t do for that again, Mac thought, wondering if they actually understood the true secret to joy.
The only things they own in this world are hope and love…and for that, they thank the Lord every night. Mac felt blessed they were his children, and his eyes filled with the love that gushed for them.
They’re destined to live wonderfully enriched lives, he thought.
Their willingness to share and be kind will guarantee it.
As the insatiable baby goats lost their novelty, the twang of a country band continued to float over from the giant pavilion. The family gradually made their way through the tent, passing several crafts tables. Beyond that, award-winning jams and pies sat on a long rectangular table, their colorful ribbons waving in the occasional breeze. Mac felt it a blessing to experience this simpler side of life again—
even if only for a few hours.
“Maybe Mom should have entered her famous Pop-Tarts in the contest,” Jillian wise- cracked. “She could have…”
“Watch your mouth,” Mac snapped at her, cutting off the rest of her insult. “That’s your mother you’re talking about.”
With a disrespectful snicker, Jillian’s eyes turned to slits. “You argue all the time with her, saying things a lot worse than…”
“And I shouldn’t,” Mac interrupted. “It’s not right.” He shook his head. “She’s your mother, Jill. If you can bad-talk her, then your sense of honor isn’t what it should be, right?”
“I know, but…”
“There are no buts,” Mac said, continuing to walk by her side. “She’s your mom, Jill. Never disrespect her.”
“Fine,” the teenager surrendered, offering another snicker.
As Bella and Brady visited one pen after the next, gently petting the animals, Mac returned to his serene train of thought.
A glimpse of yesteryear when there wasn’t so much stress and the need to get everything right, Mac thought, shaking his head.
Breaking through this peaceful world, dreadful carnival sounds drifted over from the other half of the muddy, hay-straw field.
Ugh, Mac thought,
and I almost forgot why I hate summer fairs.
Jillian took a knee beside her little brother, clearly enjoying the pure joy in the little boy’s face.
Mac sat on a tall, silver milk can when Bella sauntered over and took a seat on his knee. Mac was happy for the quiet moment together. “Summer will be ending in a few weeks, Princess,” he reminded her. “Are you excited to go back?”
Bella shrugged. “I don’t know. I like school and I love my friends, but…”
“But what?”
“I just get really nervous when I start something new, Dad, and I hate it.”
“You hate starting a new school year, Beans?” he inquired further.
She shook her head. “No Dad, I hate the feeling of being nervous.” She peered into his eyes. “But I bet that doesn’t happen when people get older like you, right Dad?”
In spite of the cruel irony, he chuckled. “Older people?”
“Yeah, adults.”
“Oh babe,” he said, “it happens to adults, too. Believe me. Adults get just as nervous as they did when they were kids. Sometimes, it’s even…” He stopped, afraid to scare her more.
“You do?” she asked, her innocent eyes wide from surprise.
“Sure, I do,” Mac confirmed.
“You still get nervous about stuff, Dad?” she continued to confirm, skeptically.
He nodded. “More than you can imagine, babe,” he said, thinking,
more than you’d ever want to imagine. He paused to find the right words. “There would be no such thing as courage if we didn’t have to overcome fear, right?”
She nodded, her innocent face trying to internalize the lesson.
“Everyone gets scared or feels anxious at times, Beans,” he continued. “The trick is not to let it stop you from doing anything, or taking over your life.” As soon as the words left his lips, he felt like a fraud.
It’s solid advice, he realized,
but for whatever reason, I’m having an impossible time applying it in my own life.
“I won’t, Dad,” Bella said, “don’t you worry.” Smiling, she kissed his cheek.
“You…you won’t what?” he stammered, startled from his all-consuming thoughts.
“I won’t let fear stop me from doing anything,” the little girl promised, kissing his cheek again.
“That’s my girl,” Mac said, throwing on a grin, “you’re a warrior.”
With a giant smile, Bella nodded. “Just like my dad.”
After choking on a gasp, he told Bella. “Go grab your brother and sister. I want to go check out the band for a minute.”
⧝
Located in the center of the fairground, the grand pavilion was a steel-framed structure and the only fixed structure on the entire field. Beneath an arched roof, rows of long tables faced a stage at the front of the open-sided building. As they stepped in, the country-and-western band was just returning to the stage from their break.
“Just in time,” Mac commented.
Jillian rolled her eyes, while Bella and Brady stared off toward the midway rides—hypnotized by the cacophony of lights and sounds.
Hand-in-hand, older couples stepped onto the portable dance floor to sway in each other’s arms. Mac pictured him and his wife doing the same, a wave of sorrow washing over him. Not so long ago, we moved together just like that, he thought.
“Can we go now, Dad?” Brady called out, his eyes still fixated on the bustling carnival across the field.
“Take a seat and relax for a few minutes,” Mac said, “we just got here.”
“Yeah, and the music sucks,” Jillian blurted, backpedaling into the shadows, where she was obviously scanning the crowd for people she may know and didn’t want to see her here.
“We’re starving, Dad,” Bella reminded him.
“Yeah, and we want to go on the rides,” Brady added, still standing.
Mac looked at them and grinned. “Maybe you should tackle all those spinning rides before we eat,” he suggested.
They looked back at him and shrugged.
“You’ll probably have a better shot at keeping your dinner in your stomach,” he explained.
They shrugged again. “Either way.”
Mac waited until the country ballad ended before standing and applauding, as much for the couples who’d danced than for the band. “Okay,” he told his children, “let’s go get sick.”
“Yahoooo!” they hooted, taking off at a sprint.
“But we need to stay together!” he yelled behind them.
They never slowed.
⧝
The bloated prices at the ticket booth bordered on criminal.
And we also need to eat, Mac reminded himself, trying to tally everything in his head. While the kids watched on, he shelled out a fistful of twenty-dollar bills. “Split it between food tickets and ride tickets,” he told the woman behind the smudged glass.
With a nod, she snatched the money with one hand and slid a couple of sheets of perforated tickets forward with the other—the lit cigarette never leaving her lips.
It was dusk, almost six o’clock, when the midway lit up with neon. As they made their way through the carnival chaos, Mac took note of how hot it was.
And there’s way too many people here, he thought, feeling claustrophobic, not to mention all the noise. The grind and squeaks of the rides made him pull at his collar.
“I want to do the giant slide first,” Brady announced loudly.
Mac looked up to see the waxed, yellow ribbon of grooves. A long steel staircase ascended a few stories, with worn swags of carpet having to be carried to the top.
Looks like too much effort to me, he thought, watching as the carnie operator signaled for the next rider to push off with both hands. Doing as she was told, the rider shot to the bottom in a fraction of the time it took her to hump the carpet all the way up the stairs.
“It’ll tickle our bellies,” Brady added.
“But we agreed on the Tilt O’ Whirl first,” Bella argued.
Mac refocused on a different ride to see kids cramming themselves into some rainbow-colored half shells. With a steel bar resting across their laps, the howling kids began to spin in circles, while each individual car traveled its own circular track. When the ride hit a certain slant, the momentum had the cars whipping around in a rush of uncontrolled madness.
You can keep the Tilt O’ Whirl, too, Mac thought.
“But I want the slide,” Brady countered.
“Guys,” Mac said, “there’s no need to…”
Suddenly, a homemade tractor—making its way across the fairground toward the tractor pull track—backfired. The loud sound caused Mac to jump, garnering a few awkward looks from the kids.
“Are you okay, Dad?” Jillian asked, seemingly concerned.
“Of course,” he answered, “why?”
“Because you look like you just got shot,” she said, the kindness completely gone from her tone.
Without dignifying the comment with a response, Mac turned and began walking. As he and the kids scouted out the rides, Bella and Brady were thrown into a frenzy of squeals and high-fives. Flashing lights, carnival sounds, and joyous screams filled the midway. From popcorn to vomit, the smells were overwhelming, making Mac momentarily stop to collect his senses. It was a fake world of obnoxious colors—dark reds and yellows and blues—covering everything. It was nearly dizzying.
I detest carnivals and fairs, Mac thought, his anxiety level on the rise.
The teacup ride—with its eight-foot tall daffodil lightposts—was one of the midway’s tamer adventures. “What about this one?” Mac asked.
Even Bella snickered at the lame suggestion.
They passed the Spill the Milk game, where it cost a dollar to toss three softballs into a milk can—
that can’t possibly fit them, Mac surmised.
Beside it, Jillian stopped at the Leopard Stand, where people threw baseballs at fake leopards, hoping to knock out a few teeth and win a spotted kitten.
“Step right up and try your luck!” the carnie heckled the teenager.
“No games,” Mac told his wide-eyed daughter right in front of the hawker, “they’re a complete waste of money.”
“Why Dad?” she asked.
“Because they’re rigged and there’s no way you can win,” he explained.
“Oh, come on,” the hawker teased, “let the kid give it a shot. She looks like she has a real good arm.”
“She has a great arm,” Mac fired back, “but she doesn’t need to waste her money for a stuffed animal that she can buy for half the price to play.”
“Wow, you’re no fun, huh?” the man said, grinning.
Brady was starting to agree when Mac stared him into silence.
A bell went off, announcing another winner.
That doesn’t help my case, Mac thought. “Let’s go see what they have to eat before we decide what to do first,” he suggested, happy to create a little distance between them and the land of crooked darts and bent rifle barrels.
Throughout the midway, the choices for dinner were endless: The smells of onions frying on a grill and sweet corn boiling, Candy apples, hot dogs, fried dough, cotton candy, French fries, salt water taffy, hamburgers, ice cream dipped in chocolate and then dipped again in fresh peanuts, and cardboard pizza—all washed down with giant cups of iced-cold soda pop.
Add in the rides, Mac thought,
and they’re the perfect ingredients for projectile vomiting.
They quickly moved on—back toward the rides.
They were just about to pass a sadistic thrill ride that looked like a UFO turned sideways when Brady stopped to watch. Essentially, each rider stood upright while the ride spun in circles so fast that gravity sucked them flush to its steel cage. Green and yellow lights spun out of control, while human screams escaped from within the blurry cage. Mac grabbed for his mid-section. Feeling his stomach churn, he thought,
and we haven’t even eaten all that greasy junk food yet.
He looked down to see Brady staring at the wooden sign of a boy, trying to gage whether he was tall enough to ride. “I’m big enough this year,” Brady thought aloud, “yes!”
“I don’t know, buddy,” Mac said, “this one looks kind of…”
At that very moment, the wailing siren of a small children’s ride permeated the air, making Mac’s head snap up. The harmless carousel-style ride included an ambulance, a firetruck, and several police cars going round-and-round in circles. Small, smiling children pretended to drive each emergency vehicle, while their grinning parents yelled out their names and took pictures as they came past. The siren went off again, paralyzing Mac’s body—including his breathing.
All at once, everything became hazy and confusing. The midway’s many competing noises now sounded like one terrible thump, matching Mac’s racing heart. The lights suddenly appeared to pulsate; it felt like he was standing in the middle of a packed nightclub, struggling unsuccessfully to get out. Clutching for his chest, Mac gasped for air. Oh my God, he thought, not here. Not now! But the world continued to tumble over and over, taking him for a ride he would have never volunteered for. Several tormented moments went by—maybe more—before Mac’s wits returned to him and he was able to catch his breath. He immediately looked for his children but couldn’t see them.
Where are they? he thought, more panic flooding his mind and heart. He managed to get his legs moving when he spotted the girls standing together. He hurried to them. “Where’s Brady?” he asked, trying to conceal his hyperventilating breaths.
“We thought he was with you,” Jillian said.
Bella nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we thought he was with you, Dad.”
“Brady!” Mac screamed, his desperate voice cutting through the midway and stopping people in their tracks. “Brady, where are you?”
Several strangers approached. “Are you missing a child?” one of them asked.
“What was he wearing?” another inquired.
Mac’s mind began to spiral again.
Stop it, Mac, he screamed inside his head,
you need to find your son! He took deep breaths and struggled to think. “His name is Brady and he was wearing…”
Brady suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “I really want to try that ride, Dad,” he said, oblivious to the recent trauma. “I’m tall enough and besides…”
“Where the hell were you?” Mac barked, dispersing the crowd.
The boy’s face went flush. “I…I…”
“What were you thinking, wandering off like that?” Mac shook his head. “That’s it,” he announced, “we’re going home.”
“But Dad, please. We never got a chance to…” Brady began.
“Now!” Mac barked.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” the young boy pled. “I didn’t wander off like you said. I was just standing right there…” He pointed. “…watching kids my own size on that spinning ride.”
“We’re going home,” Mac repeated. “I don’t care what…”
“So we’re just going to waste all of those tickets?” Jillian asked.
“I don’t care about the tickets or the money it cost to purchase them,” Mac said through gritted teeth.
“But we still haven’t eaten, Dad,” Bella jumped in. “We’re all starving.”
“We have food at home,” he said. “Your mother was kind enough to go food shopping this week, so you can all eat when you get home.”
“But Dad…” Jillian began to plead.
“We’re leaving right now!” he roared before turning to head toward the front gate. As Mac reached the fence, he stopped a woman who’d just entered the fairground with two small children. “Here’s some tickets we couldn’t use, ma’am,” he said, “it’ll save you a few bucks.”
While his own children gasped at this final blow, the woman couldn’t thank him enough. “Sir, you have no idea what you’ve just done,” she whispered. “We can’t afford to be here, so…so you’re…” Emotion halted her for a moment. “…you’re like an angel sent from heaven,” she finished.
Jillian snickered. “Yeah, he’s an angel all right,” she muttered under her breath.
Mac’s head snapped back her. His eyes—now angry slits—forced his teenage daughter to stare at her feet.
Amongst pitiful sniffles that were turning into heavy sobs, the Anderson family moped their way back to the van.
“It’s just not fair,” Brady whimpered.
No, it’s not fair at all, Mac thought. “Life’s not fair, buddy,” he said, leveraging an age-old phrase he’d always promised himself he’d never use when he became a parent.
⧝
On the ride home, while the two little ones wept uncontrollably in the back seat, Jillian was steaming mad and obviously unable to contain her disdain. “This is such bullshit,” she hissed in a barely audible tone.
“Because you don’t understand, Jill,” Mac told her, looking sideways.
“Then explain it to me, Dad. Why did we have to leave so soon? And why in the hell did we have to leave like that?”
“Watch your mouth,” he said, glaring at her.
“Why?” she repeated, clearly needing an answer.
“Because I got scared, that’s why,” he whispered, continuing to stare out the windshield. “When I realized Brady was lost, it made my blood turn to ice water and shook me right down to my bones.”
“But Brady wasn’t lost,” Jillian snapped back.
“That…that’s right,” the little boy stuttered over the front seat.
“Brady didn’t wander off, Dad,” Jillian added. “He was standing only a few feet away from us the whole time.”
“But I didn’t…” Mac began to counter.
“It’s true, Dad,” Bella interrupted between sobs, “we just didn’t see him standing there.”
“Please Dad,” Jillian said, as though there was still a chance to save the day. “We can go back and…”
“We’re not going back,” Mac barked. “We’re going home and that’s the end of it. I don’t want to hear another…”
Jillian sighed heavily, her face returning to a terrible mix of disgust and disappointment.
It’s the exact same look that Jen gives me now, Mac realized, making his stomach flop sideways and burn the back of his throat.
Jillian faced forward.
“You don’t understand, Jill,” he repeated. This time, he was the one pleading for understanding.
“You’re right, I don’t!” she said, crossing her arms, a clear indicator that she’d completely shut down.
Realizing that external approval was futile, Mac went inward.
It’s my job to protect these kids, he thought,
and I could have lost Brady because I was distracted from… He stopped, unwilling to give the torment a name. He looked at the passenger seat again before peering into the rearview mirror.
They’ll get over this…eventually, he told himself,
but if something had happened where I wasn’t there to protect them… He gasped, drawing a bad look from Jillian. I just couldn’t live with that.
⧝
As they returned home, Mac discovered his wife standing in the threshold of the front door.
Here we go, he thought.
“Back so soon?” she commented.
The two little ones scrambled out of the van, weeping.
Jen’s eyes went wide. While Jillian stormed past her, furious, she asked, “What…what happened?”
Bella and Brady scrambled off to their rooms without answering.
Jen refocused on Mac. “What happened, Mac?”
He shook his head. “We lost sight of Brady for a moment and…”
“You lost Brady?”
“No,” he snapped back, “we didn’t
lose him. He wandered off for a minute and…”
“He didn’t wander anywhere,” Jillian screamed from the living room. “Dad just thought he did and then freaked out, telling us that we needed to leave.”
Jen stared at her husband. “Another successful bonding experience, I see,” she said sarcastically.
Mac walked past her, heading for his trusty vodka bottle. “You’re obviously the better parent, Jen,” he hissed, “trust me, I know. You remind me often enough.”
⧝
A few silent hours passed before Mac nodded off in his worn recliner; it had become a sad routine as of late.
⧝
The distinct sounds of crumpling steel and shattered glass were followed by a single moan.
Someone needs help, he thought.
I need to… His legs wouldn’t budge. Although he struggled and struggled, he remained trapped.
⧝
Mac leapt to his feet, his heart pounding hard enough to explode. As if he were sucking in air through a crimped straw, he struggled to breathe. The sudden lack of oxygen made him dizzy, while his extremities began to tingle. As he fought against the invisible enemy, a heavy coat of fear and despair draped over him. The intense rush—lasting several eternal minutes—carried him to a lack of control he’d never known before. And once done, he felt scarred in every aspect—physically, emotionally, even spiritually.
It took some time for Mac to reclaim some semblance of normal breathing. Cautiously, he eased back into his chair.
Maybe I should tell Jen that it’s getting worse, he thought, gripping the arms of the recliner like he was sitting in the electric chair.
No, he decided,
she has her own stuff to worry about.
Breathing erratically, Mac sat alone in the dark, terrified over the next attack he was sure would come.
I don’t know how much longer I can live like this, he thought, losing his breath once again.
Something has to give.
~ THE END ~
