Page 32 of Dream with Me

“Nothing. Go on.”

“No, Troy, if you have something to say, then go ahead?—”

“Fine,” I snap. “Ourlove didn’t change, Shannon,”—I turn my head to face her—“yoursdid.”

Shannon inhales a small gasp, her eyes misty, and I expect Dr. Linden to intervene, but she doesn’t. I stare at Shannon, then shift my gaze back to Dr. Linden.

“We made sure we stressed that we loved them and it wasn’t their fault.”

Dr. Linden nods. “And with Chase? How did you tell him?”

I hesitated for a second before it strikes me we didn’t tell him. I glance over at Shannon, and her eyes are wide. I assume she’s also concluding that maybe we should have figured out how to express it to him in a way he’d understand instead of not telling him anything.

“We didn’t,” Shannon whispers. “I think we thought he was too young and that it wouldn’t be appropriate to tell him. But... but that was a mistake.” Shannon’s face pales. “He’s had a few bedwetting accidents. That’s new. Plus, it’s harder to soothe him to sleep some nights, and he,” she turns to me now, no longer aiming her words at Dr. Linden, “he cries for you sometimes when he’s really tired.” A fat tear falls from her eye, and I watch it as it streams down her face, followed by another.

I’m pretty sure my heart cracks in my chest, and I can’t stop myself from reaching up and wiping a tear off her cheek. “He cries for you, too, when he’s at my place.” My voice is soft. I don’t want to hurt her with my words. I love this woman with every bit of my soul, and seeing her in pain devastates me, even if a part of me is angry at her for giving up on us.

I want to pull her into my arms as she weeps for our children, to tell her it’ll be okay.They’llbe okay. But I don’t because I don’t know if it’s true. It’s possible nothing will ever be okay again—at least, that’s what my heart says.

Dr. Linden passes some tissue to Shannon, and Shannon takes a few moments to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. When she is done, Dr. Linden begins again.

“We can talk about some ways to help Chase at his level. For now, though, let’s talk about Chelsea. I believe she’s struggling with the changes in your home situation and could benefit from some play therapy sessions. It could help her process how she’s feeling about the divorce. Is that something you two would be open to?”

“Of course,” I say. At the same time, Shannon vehemently nods her head. I know from loving this woman for eighteen years that she’s going to struggle with the fact that our baby girl is hurting, and it’s going to take her a moment to be able to speak. Especially after she just stopped crying. I’m guessing she’s likely fighting back tears again.

“Good, we can talk about getting that set up before you leave today.”

My heart starts to pound in my chest as she picks up the final manila folder in front of her and opens it. She takes several long seconds to read over it before she closes it again, sets it on the table, and peers at us.

A slight frown tugs at her lips. My chest tightens.

“You were right to be concerned about Oliver. He’s having a very difficult time with the changes in your family.” She pauses, and I assume that last sentence was a warning shot of tougher stuff to come. “Would it be okay to share some of the themes that came out of our time together?”

“Yes, please,” Shannon whispers. Her voice shakes.

I’m not sure she’s aware of doing it, but she scoots a few inches closer to me. She’s gripping the edges of her skirt with her hands.

Dr. Linden clears her throat.

“When I met with Oliver, I could definitely see the serious and quiet young man you told me to expect. I think that his natural personality traits are contributing to him feeling an undue amount of pressure.” She focuses on Shannon. “Oliver shared with me that he is the man of the house now, and he’s been trying to find ways to take the stress off you since Troy is gone.”

Shannon’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand. I haven’t noticed anything.”

“Apparently, he’s been trying to clean up Olivia’s room so that it will be less work for you. And he’s been washing clothes?” It comes out as a question, and I worry she’s wondering how we don’t know that.I’mwondering how we don’t know that.

“What?” Shannon whispers. She whips her head toward me. “I thought Livvy was finally listening to my pleas to put her clothes in the laundry hamper. I-I assumed you were throwing an occasional load in on the mornings you get the kids breakfast and take them to school for me. No?”

My mouth goes dry. “No, Shan. Not that I’d mind doing that. I just don’t want to overstep.”

Her eyes mist over, and she stares at me for what feels like forever before turning back to Dr. Linden, who searches our faces. When she thinks we’re ready to hear more, she speaks again.

“He also isn’t sleeping well. He wakes up during the night, usually twice but always at least once. He says he hears noises or the dog barks and gets up to check the doors are locked. Then he goes to everyone else’s rooms—including yours, Shannon—to make sure everyone is safe.”

I scrub my hands over my face and hold them there for a second, needing a moment. “Jesus Christ. He’s scared. He’s ten years old, and he’s trying to be the man of the house because I’m not there for them. Fuck.”

The women are silent for a moment, and Shannon scoots even closer to me. I’m confused. I know we’ve been communicating a bit better lately, and she’s lifting out of her sadness, but I don’t know what to make of her drawing nearer.

“I think we should start with weekly sessions for Oliver, and then we can do some joint sessions with one or both of you, depending on what is coming up in the weekly sessions. I know it’s painful to hear your child is hurting, but the fact Oliver was able to express some of what he’s feeling in only two sessions is a good sign.”

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