Riptide: A Christian Yelich Story

Thirty-Three

It was 3:00 am on New Year's Day, and Christian couldn't find sleep. Amelia had fallen asleep before the clock even struck midnight, her body exhausted from pregnancy, but he couldn't find rest quite as easily these days. He had fucked up, and the weight of that, and the weight of the opinions of others, was starting to take a toll on him. He felt guilty. He felt tired. And, mostly, he felt not good enough for his wife, his son, and his unborn twins.

He wished his little buddy still woke up at 3:00 am, so he'd have someone to keep him company, but he slept soundly through the night now – much like his beautiful mother. Christian smiled thinking about his son as an infant, how needy and sweet he had been . . . He supposed that was coming again soon. And he was ready. He just wasn't sure if he'd live up to the expectations.

He rummaged through the fridge to find a late-night snack. Nothing. He rummaged through the freezer. Nothing. He rummaged through pantry and pulled out an unopened tube of Pringles before making his way to the couch and flipping on the television. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, but he didn't really have a choice. Maybe a dumb comedy or a gory horror film would distract him from how awful of a person he actually was.

He was disrupted from making a selection on Hulu by the sweet sound of his wife. "Chris, come back to bed," she urged, flipping on a light, surprised to find her husband so bent out of shape.

"I can't sleep," he said softly.

"If that's the case, turn the television on in our room. I want to be next to you." She offered him a smile.

"I don't want to keep you up. You need to take care of our babies."

Amelia took a seat next to her husband, who still had his hand in the jar of sour cream and onion Pringles. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Insomnia isn't generally a problem for you, but this has been happening a lot lately."

Christian sighed deeply. "Every time I crawl into bed, I obsessively think about how I don't deserve you. About how your parents are right. How your siblings are right. How Jonah is right. I'm a bad husband and a bad father. You deserve someone who won't disappoint you."

Amelia took her husband's hand in her own smaller one. "You're not disappointing me. You've been nothing but kind, loving, and supportive since coming home."

"But I had to come home," he said softly. "I left you." He swallowed the lump that was building in his throat.

"Yeah, but you came back, and you've improved. You were great before . . . Now you're above and beyond superdad. You're . . . mega superdad . . . or something." She couldn't quite get the words right, but she hoped they'd help. Christian should feel proud of himself for turning things around. He didn't deserve this.

Christian cracked a small smile, but the frown returned to his face quickly. "How can you even love me, honestly? You let me love you and touch you and hold you so freely. I can't believe it, honestly."

"When I said those vows, I meant every word. I'll always fight for us, Chris."

He squeezed her hand. "Please go back to bed. I don't want to keep you up any longer."

"I'm not going back to bed without my husband next to me. I'll even let you bring those Pringles you seem incredibly fond of." She motioned at his hand.

"I'm hungry." He shrugged, giving her another fractured smile.

He looked so tired and beaten down. Amelia knew she couldn't help him by herself. "Maybe you should talk to someone about all of this. Someone who can be more objective than I can and offer some coping mechanisms."

"A therapist?" Christian asked with a raised brow. He saw a sports psychiatrist on occasion when he struggled with his performance on the field, but he never talked to anyone about his life at home. He didn't know if that's something he'd be comfortable with . . . His personal life was his and Amelia's. Not anyone else's to share.

"Yeah . . . You could do therapy alone and then maybe we could see someone as a couple. We're expanding to five soon, and I think that sort of major change warrants some counseling. I've been seeing someone since we split, and it helps a lot. It helped me through the pain . . . and through the reconciliation. Maybe it could help you through the aftermath of making a mistake." She hoped she wasn't offending him. Chris sometimes shutdown when emotions were too charged.

"I'd try it for you and our family," he said softly.

"It has to be for you as well, Chris, or it's not going to be effective." She got to her feet and offered him her hand, so she could help him up. He accepted.

"I'll do it. If it'll help all of us, I'll do it. Anything to make us better. Absolutely anything."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a brief, sweet kiss. "I'll make you an appointment."

He didn't think it would help, but it certainly wouldn't make him feel any worse. That was something.

His family came first, and he was part of that family.