The Way We Get By

19 // Ramona

Liam and I took off early today to come to the group home. It's nerve-wracking, although I know I can't expect much to have changed within three days. Alex will still be skinnier than he should be, he'll still be his pessimistic, unhappy self, and he'll still be sick.

I have to keep reminding myself that they can't just fix him. That it's a process, and it's going to take months to make significant progress, whether that's in this home or not.

It's just heartbreaking to see him hurt. It makes me point the finger at myself and at Liam, as if there were some way we could've known—some way we could've stopped this disorder from getting to him. It's infuriating and agonizing, being a parent that can't protect their own child. I feel useless. Utterly useless.

Liam reaches forward with a strong fist to knock on the front door, his knuckles rapping against the heavy wood with much more confidence than they did when we first came to the house.

A nurse answers the door with a welcoming smile while gesturing for us to come in.

We step inside of the dark-wooded foyer to see that John is standing at the nurse's desk looking through a couple of charts. A grin appears on his face as he looks up from the charts and sees us standing in the foyer with our nervous and solemn expressions.

"Mr. and Mrs. Rivera!" he greets as he approaches us with a wide, radiating smile. "Comin' to visit?"

I nod and reach down to hold Liam's hand. I'm thankful for the reassuring squeeze he gives me, as if he's trying to tell me that everything will be okay. It's a noticeable difference from when we came here to meet with John before Alex was admitted. Liam had been anxious and restless, although he seems to have come to grips with the situation now.

"How is he?" I feel my gut turning into a slush of stomach-turning anxiety when John begins talking.

"Well, he did very well his first night." John keeps his voice on the lower side to protect Alex's privacy, despite the fact that there's no one in the foyer besides us and the nurse.

"But he did have a bit of a tough day yesterday. He freaked out a little during lunch, which is normal for someone who's new to recoverin'. We're working on it, though. It's a slow process."

Liam and I manage pleasant nods and smiles as the both of us are at a significant loss for words. John continues, though, straightening his crisp button-down and picking up a clipboard from the nurse's desk.

"But there is one thing Dr. Peterson wanted me to talk to you about," John explains. "He met with Alex again yesterday and he wants to know if you'll give permission for a prescription of antidepressants."

My hand drops from Liam's as the fears that I've always had for Alex now become a reality. It's not like I haven't known it for awhile, but as a parent you try and push down the worries. You want to believe everything is okay, because then maybe it will be.

It never works out very well, but life never does anyways.

"He's d—depressed?"

John looks up at Liam from the clipboard and nods.

"Dr. Peterson noted that he's showing clear signs of depression. The insomnia, the apathy, the pessimism—he thinks the medication will help steer him in the right direction."

I drop my gaze to the floor as a splitting pain radiates around my chest. I've always been terrified that one of them would have it. That one of my babies would be inflicted with the dark, bottomless pit of depression.

The numbness, the pure emptiness of it—it hurts. It physically hurts, and it aches and it burns. It can eat away at a person until they've got nothing left but a hollow shell, and it leaves them wondering why the world is moving forward but they're stuck in their mind.