WAKE (Wattpad edition)

17. What he missed.

Soundtrack: 'Hold me Jesus' - Rich Mullins

{Pete}

Once Cary turned in, the house was quiet, but Pete's adrenaline was still running so he couldn't sleep. He paced from the front door, past the bedrooms of his sleeping children to the kitchen window overlooking their back yard, trying to step softly so he wouldn't disturb anyone. He couldn't settle anywhere for more than a moment, and he couldn't leave for a run to burn off his restless energy for fear that Jon would wake up again. At another time of day, he could have spoken to Mel and gotten some release in that way, but she took a prescription sleeping pill each night and wouldn't be alert enough for news of this size until morning. Anyone he might think to call had gone to sleep hours ago—he couldn't justify waking them for his dark night of the soul.

He combed through websites and blogs and medical entries on his laptop until his eyes felt glued open. When he finally closed the lid, his head felt like it was splitting. His thoughts were wooden and he couldn't make them into words of a prayer. All he could do was pace in the dark like a soldier on duty, and hope his heart was drumming out a wordless cry for help that God could hear and come for.

When the first flush of dawn appeared in the sky over the garage, he put the coffee on and allowed himself to sink onto the couch while it sighed and brewed. His eyes landed on the family photo above the flat-screen—two years old now. Jon had looked so young and soft, half-smiling at the camera. Pete put his hand to his mouth, looking at that boy with new eyes. Had this fault line already been present for Jon then, forced wide by the stress of their move and a painful injury? What else did he not know about his boy? What else had he missed?

He heard movement in the hallway and started to his feet, going to the door to look. Cary was poised in Jon's open doorway, looking in at the curled form under the rumpled bedclothes. He bent his head and Pete heard him sigh.

He took down two mugs without turning when Cary came into the kitchen. "Milk and sugar?"

In answer, Cary silently opened the fridge and set the milk on the counter.

"Sleep okay?"

Cary lifted his shoulders. "You?" His eyes touched Pete's face.

Pete poured their coffees and shook his head. He saw Cary's face ripple with feelings Pete wasn't willing to feel right now. Pete turned his face forward, wrapping his hands around the warmth of his mug.

"I'm taking Jon to the hospital today." He was blessedly numb about this decision—it was just a thing that had to be done—take his son to the people who could tell him what was wrong and how to fix it, if they could. "There's a withdrawal program."

Cary hooked a finger through the handle of his mug and leaned on the counter next to him, dark eyes questioning.

"I Googled 'How to quit opiods,'" Pete said drily. "I guess there's drugs that help with the withdrawal symptoms and they'll wean him off."

"Huh. Sounds good," Cary said. "Better than quitting cold."

Pete glanced sideways at him. "How long ago did you quit?"

The angles of Cary's face were closed and careful now, and he glanced at a spot above Pete's head before he dropped his eyes, blowing over the surface of his coffee. "A couple years ago." Some emotion opened his face, as if a key had been turned, animating the parts. "I was 12, I guess. Or 13."

He set the mug on the counter and turned this open face to Pete, running his hand down the back of his neck. "Mr. White, do you need me to go? It seems like...you got a lot on your plate and you don't need one more thing."

Pete swallowed, feeling how squeezed he was just now, how short on patience and kindness and energy he really was. He had to call someone at the church to ask for this time off—a member of the elders' board. He didn't know what he was going to say to explain if they asked. A part of him wished their family didn't need the money so he could just quit before the news that his son was an addict was all over the church and they fired him instead.

When he didn't answer, Cary went on, searching his face. "I can do the shelter for 30 days. That's time for me to find something else." He had his hand against his stomach, like he was holding it down.

Pete's stress spiked just considering it and he shook his head. "Cary, no. That's kind of you to offer, but you're the least of my worries right now." As he said it, he realized it was true. "If you go, Mel and I will add the worry of how you're doing at the shelter. We're glad to have you here. You help around the house and with the girls...it would be a help, actually, if you would stay."

Cary frowned at him, watching the words form on his mouth like he needed to make out their meaning.

"If that's okay with you." Pete exhaled heavily. "This...Jon being sick just complicated our life a lot and maybe—it's triggering you. I don't know. I guess it's up to you."

Cary put his eyes straight ahead, still frowning. "It's not triggering me," he said. "I been clean a long time. If you think... it would be a help...I'll stay." He said it slowly, like he wasn't certain he had it right. Pete clasped his shoulder lightly.

"Thank you."

He felt Cary take a slow breath and stand up a little straighter.

He tried to smile, worry pulling against that expression on his face. "Working today?"

"No," Cary said. "First day of school."

Pete blinked. It was like this crisis had swallowed his sense of time. His sudden desire to see Jon come into the kitchen wearing his smile, ready for the school day, was so sharp he couldn't breathe. That emotion went through him like a lightning strike, but he managed to stay standing, hanging onto the counter, waiting for it to pass. 

At last he sucked air into his aching chest and pushed himself straight. He needed to wake Mel up, fill her in, do breakfast for the girls, and get the kids to school. This wasn't the time to examine his feelings or the past four months of family life to figure out what had gone wrong, what they could have done differently so his boy didn't feel like he needed a bunch of pills to feel normal and happy. There would be time to process later, when Jon was stable.  

*Oh man, this is another part that I have all the feels as a parent. The Rich Mullin's song is one of my go-tos when I'm feeling really shitty. What do you think about Pete's response to Jon here?*