A Holland and a Fighter

by Lori L. Otto

  I question further, knowing, but fearing, the answer. “What do you mean?”

  “Not here. He doesn’t want to be here, Jon. He’s made up his mind, and I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid it’s just a matter of time. It used to be that, like… he couldn’t act without me. I had the money. It’s not like that anymore. He’s free to do what he wants. I can’t stop him.”

  “But… you have to.”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “He’s still here. Every day I tell myself that. Every day he is, I consider it a success.”

  “What a horrible way to live,” I tell him.

  “It’s better than being without him.” His eyes water. “I’ll take any day with him, no matter how he is, than any day without him.”

  I give him a tight embrace. “Thank you for loving him like you do, man.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’ve fucked up enough in our relationship that I owe him… patience… while he figures out shit.”

  “Uhhh,” I start. “I don’t think that’s how relationships work, Cal, nor do I think he would agree that you owe him anything. And I sure as hell hope you’re not doing things for him as a sort of debt repayment or something.”

  “I’m not. I don’t mean it like that. I just mean that he’s put up with me and my baggage since before we even got together. Since the day he told me he liked me. Before that, I’m sure. Watching me date girls, flaunting them in his face. The thing in St. Thomas.” He looks away as he says this one; we never talk about it. “Disappearing anytime things got tough. My mom… and her unwillingness to accept who we are and how we live, no matter what we’ve been through and how many years of fucking therapy our family’s been to. He shouldn’t have to deal with that bullshit from her. Feeling pressure from me to make commitments he wasn’t ready for. Waiting around while I went away to grad school in Philly when there was a perfectly good one here, just because it was a tradition in my family. I… regret that decision now.”

  “Callen, that’s in the past, and you guys got through it just fine. You’re fine.”

  “We’re not fine. We try to look like we’re fine. We’ll be fine, but we both know we have a long way to go to get there.”

  “That tells me you’re both willing to work at it.”

  He nods. “When it’s good, it’s good. No, it’s great.”

  “And that’s why he’s still here,” I comment.

  “Yeah,” he admits. “Those are the tethers that keep him here. I just have to keep tying them down, and it takes a lot of work and I don’t know how long I can keep it up.”

  “If there’s anything I can ever do to help, Cal, just let me know. I… don’t know how to reach him right now. I had every intention of coming in here today to catch up with him, but… it’s not even one and I can tell from his eyes and face that he’s drunk… he’s double-fisting bourbon and beer, for god’s sake, and right in front of me… like it doesn’t matter.”

  “He told me you wanted to be his brother–not a parent. You sound a little like a parent.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek and nod my head. “Am I not supposed to worry? What does Will think?”

  “Will trusts me to know Max’s limits. He knows I’ve been through rehab and we’ve talked about what to look for… with addiction. He’s not an addict, Jon. He’s a 25-year-old guy who’s testing his limits with alcohol and marijuana. Max is honest with me about what he drinks or takes or uses and when. If he thinks he needs any prescription medication for his pain or PTSD, we talk about all of that before he pops any pills. An addict wouldn’t do that. An addict would hide that shit from everyone…”

  “How often is he taking pills? You acted like it was just that once.”

  “It’s rare, and only when it’s necessary.”

  “Do you report that back to Will?” He nods. “And Max knows?” Again, he silently answers in the affirmative.

  “Max knows the only reason we’re concerned is because we care and we’re 100 percent on his side. He appreciates that we’re willing to give him some space to make his own decisions, though. So far, he knows when to draw the line. There have only been a few times that he’s been a little reckless, but that was a long time ago, and it scared the shit out of him, so…”

  “What? When? And why don’t I know about it?”

  “It’s not relevant anymore. He’s past that point. He and I have dealt with it.”

  “Are you even equipped for that?” I ask him. “Isn’t that too much responsibility for you?”

  “He knows if he does it again, he crosses a line with serious consequences… a line I won’t cross with him.”

  “But, Callen? That could be overdosing, right?” I’m truly concerned now, and don’t care if I sound like a father.

  “It was a year and a half ago in California when it happened, Jon. You don’t need to worry. He was still adjusting to everything and was on higher doses of pain killers. We’re past it. I promise.”

  I look him square in the eyes to see if they waver, but they don’t. I finally nod. “But I want you to promise me you will tell me if anything happens to him that concerns you… the second you think you might be in over your head; I don’t want you to just go to Will. I know the two of you are closer than we are, but I want to know, too. I won’t jump in and act. I just want to help find solutions. I want to be here for him, too… as a brother.”

  He smiles and holds out his hand for me. “You have a deal… as long as you trust me now.”

  “Deal.” I shake his hand and pull him in for another hug. “And thank you for screening the videos for Edie, too. She’ll see the unfavorable ones when she’s older. I won’t be able to stop her… but I’d rather her not have any bad images of her mom or me for now.”

  “Neither of you ever did anything bad.”

  “We had stupid fights. Heated, passionate fights in front of audiences.”

  His laughter comes out in a snort. “Yeah, you’re the only ones in the family who’ve done that.”

  “Yes, and that’s why she has a higher opinion of me and Liv than she does of you and Max, who you kicked out of your car for no fucking reason,” I tease him about the fight they had a couple of years ago that all the tabloid sites had picked up and overanalyzed for days.

  “I had a reason,” he mumbles. “It was a bad one, but… it was a reason.”

  “Hey, my brother did nothing wrong,” I argue on Max’s behalf, as I will until I’m blue in the face for this particular fight.

  “I know. Yet another thing for me to regret.”

  “Hey, assholes, what are you two talkin’ about in here?” my youngest brother interrupts us.

  “Assholes?” I ask.

  “It’s a term of endearment. Trust me. I love… assholes.” He takes a drink of his beer.

  “I’m sure you do, buddy. I hope my girls aren’t out there.” I nod to the back living room, where Edie and Willow often hang out when they come over here.

  “Maybe I want to fill their swear jars today, Jon, huh? Is that so bad that I wanna share my wealth with your little angels today?”

  “Yes,” I tell him. “Please… don’t. They don’t need your money, and they really don’t need your style of vocabulary lessons.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says, rolling his right wrist and popping it. “You didn’t answer me, though. What were you talkin’ about?”

  “YouTube videos,” Callen answers.

  “Fuck YouTube,” Max says. When he sees my severe look, he rolls his eyes. “They aren’t out there, okay? They were eating sweets in the hallway.”

  “Awww, shit. Really?”

  “Hypocrite,” Max says with a smirk. “Cal, I need to talk to you about something that just came up… something private. Can we go on the roof?”

  “Now?”

  “You guys can have the room,” I tell them, heading out. “It’s freezing outside.”

  “Nah, we’ll be fine up there. We’ll be back down in… fifteen?” Max says. “It’s more private th
an a closed door.”

  “Oh,” I say, putting up my hands, not wanting to ask any more questions. “Don’t let me get in the way… but I do have to stop the little cookie monsters in the hall, regardless.”

  I find both of my girls chewing on something, their cheeks puffed out in an obvious attempt to hide whatever they’re eating from me. I stare at both of them as they look up at me innocently and wait until they’ve swallowed everything. Both of their mouths are covered in powdered sugar, so it’s no secret they got into the special cookies that Shea’s famous for.

  “What were you eating?”

  “Nothing,” Edie tells me. Willow tries to sneak back into Matty’s.

  “Get back here, Wils.” Slowly, she turns around and holds her hands behind her back. “What were you eating?”

  “Fruit?” She tests out a lie on me.

  I look down at the dark blue, long-sleeved tee she chose to wear today, seeing further evidence of her snack on her clothes–not only is there powdered sugar, though, but also two smudges of chocolate where she’s wiped her fingers. “Edie, look at your sister’s shirt and tell me what you see there.”

  They both look down. “I don’t see anything,” she says, then smiles at me as if she’s outsmarted me.

  “No?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Then switch shirts with her.” Edie’s far too concerned with her appearance to be seen in a shirt with food on it. “Let’s go to Matty’s bathroom right now and switch shirts.”

  “I don’t want to wear her shirt. I don’t like blue.”

  “I know that’s not true. We just bought you a new sweater that is that exact color.”

  “But that style doesn’t look right on me.”

  “Tees look good on everyone. Let’s go.” I put my hands on their backs and try to push them into Livvy’s uncle’s apartment.

  “Daddy, no,” Edie says. “Don’t make me.”

  “Why?”

  She looks up at me with the saddest eyes. “Please?” She folds her hands in front of her chest.

  “Is that sugar and chocolate?” I ask her, point blank. She nods. “What were you two eating?”

  “A cookie and… some fudge,” she admits.

  “I thought I told you not to eat any more,” I say, looking at Willow. I can’t get mad at Edie since I didn’t explicitly have the conversation with her, although she should know better.

  “You told me I could only have one cupcake.”

  “Dubskie’s got you on a technicality,” Will says, carrying both of our sons, but offering mine to me. “This one needs a diaper and I’ve only got one hand free.”

  I take Luca as my youngest daughter starts to walk away. “Hey.” Willow turns back around. “Froggie needs a new diaper.”

  “I don’t want to,” she whines as I grab his diaper bag and lead her toward the back of the apartment.

  “Let’s go to Matty’s bathroom and get started. I’ll send Edie in to help. Do you have anything on under that?” I ask, pointing to her soiled tee. She nods. “Give that to me and I’ll get it clean for you.” She takes off her top revealing a tee from Malibu that Max and Callen had bought her last year. “No more sweets today. At all. If I catch you sneaking another, you don’t get to go to Kelsey’s slumber party on Saturday night. Got it?”

  “Daddy…” she pleads.

  “Nope. None of that.” Her bottom lip juts out adorably as she pouts, and my heart melts just a little bit. “Hey, get the changing pad, okay?” She takes it out and puts it onto the bathmat in the middle of the large bathroom. I lay Luca down on it and kneel on the floor with Willow to kiss her on the head. “I love you,” I tell her. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Where’s Edie?” she asks.

  “I’m going to send her in right now. Take care of your brother for me, okay?”

  “I will.”

  After finding my oldest daughter and letting her know she’s needed, I return to Max’s apartment to use the washer and dryer I was intimately familiar with after using it for many years before we moved out. I find a mound of clothes that must be a couple weeks’ worth of laundry, completely disorganized, in the room. I’m only surprised for a split second, because why wouldn’t it be like this? I know for a fact that Coley did Max’s laundry when he lived at Trey’s. She would volunteer to do it because she was doing Trey’s anyway, but she would always give Max hell for it, just to bust his chops for something. They always played around like that.

  And, as for Callen, he’d always had a staff that did everything for him. Even when he was at grad school, I remember him saying he’d just swap out clothes from one week to the next. Every weekend, they’d magically be clean when he got back to his place.

  It actually makes me wonder who has been doing their laundry up until now.

  Wanting to help them out and knowing this is one small way that I can, I decide to put a dent in the pile and start sorting their clothes. Once that’s done, I find the darks and put them in with my daughter’s tee-shirt and start a load in the washer.

  After setting a timer on my watch for 45 minutes to come back and check, I leave the laundry room, nearly running into Coley.

  “Oh!” she exclaims, covering her mouth. “Did you just discover their dirty little secret?”

  “If you mean their laundry situation, it’s not a secret anymore. And it wasn’t little.” She nods. “Who normally does it?”

  “Max is supposed to. I taught him how, but…” She shrugs. “He just… doesn’t.”

  I frown. “I don’t understand.”

  “He almost seems… paralyzed… when he’s alone these days.”

  “Paralyzed?”

  “Like he can’t do much of anything by himself. Or won’t.”

  “I’m obviously not doing enough for him. With him,” I tell her. “I feel like I’m… failing him. How have I missed all of this?”

  She smiles warmly and holds onto my arm. “Jon, you’re doing such an amazing job right now with your family. Don’t ever think you’re failing anyone. Okay? We’re all trying to help Max…”

  “Am I the only one who doesn’t know about all of this?”

  “We didn’t want to worry you. You have enough to worry about.”

  “Coles, you know what I want?” She shakes her head. “I want life to be… normal… again. I don’t want people tiptoeing around me anymore, thinking I can’t handle the truth about my own god-damned brother. Because… you know what? It sounds like he’s barely hanging on, and… fuck, Coley, I’ve lost my wife this year. I lost my mom last year. There’s no way in hell I’m losing my brother in the next one.”

  “We won’t let that happen, Jon.” She hugs me. “He knows how much he’s loved and cherished and appreciated by Callen as his loving partner, and by Trey as his devoted best friend, and by me as the pesky little sister he never knew he wanted but now he can’t get rid of,” she says with a laugh. “By you and Will as the most steadfast brothers, by Jack and Emi as surrogate parents that he’s picked up along this crazy journey, and even by Matty and Nolan, the spooky glimpse of his future that lives right across the hall from him.”

  I chuckle with her. “He does have the best support system. I wish he’d use it more.”

  “With me and Callen, he doesn’t have a choice,” she says. “With Trey in Boston, I’m stepping in for him. I don’t want you to worry. We spend a ton of time together. I try to keep him engaged… distracted… busy… entertained. And we have a lot of fun together.” She looks up at me and nods her head. “Clean fun. I know you’re worried about him. I could see it on your face when you walked in. He spends a good amount of his time sober. I want you to know that.

  “I mean, he’s clearly not right now… but that’s what he needs to get through today, and we love him regardless.”

  “He used to really enjoy big gatherings like this. He was the life of the party; the center of attention.”

  “And then he got shot in a large crowd, and ever since the
n, he’s had trouble when there are so many things happening around him that he doesn’t have control over.”

  “But we’re all family… and here, in this building, we’re the only ones with access to this floor. He should feel safest here.”

  “He does, actually. But he literally can’t help feeling anxiety when things get louder than he’d like them to… or if something feels too… uncertain for him.”

  “I feel so out of touch. I had no idea things were still that bad. I thought therapy had helped.”

  “It did, Jon. He just may never be the same.” I look at her, possibly coming to terms with this for the first time. “He doesn’t want to be a disappointment to everyone. He knows he’s different. He feels it and he feels people looking at him differently. He sees what they say about him now in the tabloids. He doesn’t like things not being ‘normal’ in his world, either… and he’s having a hard time accepting that this is his normal now.”

  “Well, for one thing, fuck the tabloids.”

  “You know that’s always been his mantra,” she says, “but they love to analyze him more now that he’s this national hero… you know, deep down, they’re wanting that dark, fallen hero story. If they don’t get it, they’ll create it. You see them angling that way all the time.”

  “I try to avoid going to those sites as much as possible. I can’t stand them.”

  “I wish Max would, too. But since he won’t, I keep up with them, so I know where his head will be the next time I see him. It’s helped me build defense mechanisms for him.”

  I pull her into me for a hug this time. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am to all of you today. I may be more worried about Max, hearing more about his problems, but at the same time, I know he has the best people around him to help. I feel awful that I haven’t been more present lately.”

  “Again, Jon, you’ve had your own–”

  “No,” I argue. “He’s been spiraling for nearly two years now. She’s only been gone for four months. I haven’t been there for him for quite some time. This is probably why he avoids my calls. Because I wasn’t there when he really needed me.”

  “You’re wrong. I promise, you’re wrong. He just wants you to be proud of him, Jon… and he doesn’t think you will be… right now.”