Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Eleanor gets to the hospital, the first thing she sees is her son’s husband. Percy looks like a mess, curled up on a waiting room couch. But who wouldn’t be, considering what had happened? Eleanor’s heart is breaking. She can only imagine how Percy feels.

“Percy,” she says, coming to sit next to him.

Percy looks up. His eyes are rimmed red. “Hi.”

“They haven’t let you see him?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Eleanor nods and settles in her seat. She doesn’t care if it makes her look childish; she pulls her knees up to her chest. There are so many emotions stirring inside of her. She hides her face in her knees and silently cries for probably the third time since she heard the news. She cried when she got the call, cried while she was driving here, and here she is, crying again. Eleanor thinks she should have run out of tears for life a long, long time ago. But they always seem to come back.

They sit in silence. She wants to ask questions. Percy didn’t give her many details when he called. He only told her that Monty was being hospitalized after a suicide attempt. It was all Eleanor needed to hear to run to the car and start driving, but she wants to know more. Mainly why. What happened? Did something happen? Had Monty been slipping through all of their fingers all this time?

Her daughter is still on the way. Felicity lives a bit farther for medical school. She had already known when Eleanor called her. Did Percy call Felicity first? It shouldn’t surprise or bother Eleanor that he did. She mentally scolds herself for being so childish, so selfish. But all she wants is to be a part of Monty’s life. Yet she still is always the last one to know things.

Again, Eleanor scolds herself. She isn’t upset about that and she knows it. She’s upset because her son almost died. She’s just looking for more reasons to be and she knows that, too.

A nurse steps into the waiting room and calls, “Lewis-Newton!” Sometimes Eleanor forgets that, as of a few months ago, Monty isn’t a Montague. Sometimes she forgets that she hasn’t been a Montague for years. She and Percy stand up and go to the nurse. “Relations?” she asks.

“Husband,” Percy says.

“Mother,” Eleanor says.

The nurse nods and leads them back to a room. She says that they’ll have some time alone with Monty until a doctor comes in to ask Monty some questions. She says that Monty seems stable given the conditions but he seems skittish and to be gentle with him. If Eleanor didn’t have such good manners, she would roll her eyes.

She lets them into the room. Monty looks up and Eleanor is taken aback. Monty is only twenty-five, but he looks so young and so old at the same time; like an abandoned child and the most war-hardened veteran. For at least the twentieth time that day, Eleanor hates her ex-husband. And she hates herself. She hates her husband for making Monty this way. She hates herself for letting him. Monty looks so broken and hurting. Eleanor wants nothing more than to reach out to him but she knows Monty doesn’t like that. Eleanor isn’t good at speaking about feelings, especially when comforting. She tries, but she’s much more adept at comforting touches. It makes things difficult when you have a son who hates it when you touch him.

Percy has no such troubles, though. Not that Eleanor begrudges him that. Eleanor knows how much Monty needs Percy, and how much she owes Percy for being there for her son.

Percy practically runs to Monty’s bedside. He pulls Monty into his arms and Monty clings to him from his place on the hospital bed. Percy presses a lingering kiss to Monty’s head for a long time. He murmurs things that Eleanor tries hard not to decipher. It’s such an intimate moment. Eleanor feels like she’s intruding by even watching. She’s trying to hang back in the doorway as much as she can and finally concedes to staring at the floor.

A few years ago, Eleanor didn’t think she believed in love. She thought she loved her husband. Then he turned out to be a monster and Eleanor saw just how quickly love could turn into fear and hatred. But when Eleanor looks at her son and his husband, she’s so sure that love exists. Nothing but love could keep together two people like them who had every reason to let go.

When Eleanor looks up again, their foreheads are pressed together. Percy is saying something and Monty is shaking his head. Percy kisses Monty’s forehead. Then, Percy pulls back and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out something and hands it to Monty. Monty’s hearing aids.

Monty puts them on and turns to Eleanor. “Hi, Mother,” he says. It stings every time he calls her that.

“Hello, dear,” Eleanor says, sounding breathless.

She and Percy pull up chairs. Monty never lets go of Percy’s hand. 

Eleanor wants to cry again. She knows, in a roundabout way, this is all her fault. She knows that she could have saved Monty and Felicity from their father so much sooner if she had been less of a coward. 

There’s a long silence. Eleanor wants to say something. Anything. But she can’t think of anything right to say.

Then, the door swings open.

“Isn’t once enough?”

Percy, Eleanor, and Monty all look up to see Felicity in the doorway. Her voice is firm and her hands are on her hips. Eleanor is about to scold her. But Monty gives her a weary, lopsided smile—the first smile she has seen from him since she got here.

“Glad to see I’m alive, Feli?” he asks.

Felicity crosses her arms. “You should not be allowed to scare me like that twice . At least not twice in the span of six years. That’s hardly fair.”

“Would you like to fake your almost-death to get back at me?”

“I’ll consider it.”

Monty chuckles.

“Did you make it here alright?” Percy asks Felicity.

Felicity nods. “Yeah, Sim said she would handle things at home for me.”

A doctor steps in behind Felicity. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, “but I need to talk to Henry.” She comes to Monty’s bedside. “I’m going to ask you some questions. Would you be more comfortable if some of your family stayed or went?”

Monty turns to Percy. He doesn’t even have to ask. Percy nods and squeezes his hand. “Could my husband stay?” Monty asks softly. It hurts Eleanor to see him so timid.

“Of course,” the doctor says. She turns to Eleanor and Felicity. “Ladies, if you don’t mind.”

Eleanor nods and gets up, following Felicity into the hallway. She shuts the door behind. In the hallway, Eleanor slides down onto the floor, head in her hands. Felicity stays standing. She’s not one to crumple. Nothing like her parents.

“Did Percy tell you what happened?” Felicity asks.

“No,” Eleanor replies. “All he told me was that Monty tried to kill himself and I came straight here. What did he tell you?”

“The same.” Felicity sighs. “I never thought this would happen.”

Eleanor is silent. What can she say? She didn’t know Monty Before and barely knows him now. She didn’t expect it either but what does she know?

Felicity swipes at a few rebellious tears. She swears under her breath. Eleanor doesn’t scold her for that anymore. Felicity may swear like a sailor and have a shaved head and dress like a mad scientist crossed with an apocalyptic survivor, but she’s happier than she ever was Before. Eleanor has slowly realized what she should have realized a long time ago. She needs to put her own feelings to the side when it comes to her children’s lives. Eleanor needs to prioritize their happiness in the big ways (like leaving their father for their sake more than her own) and the little ways (like not being angry with Felicity when she shaved her entire head). The shaved head has grown on Eleanor anyway.

“Do you think they’ll put him in the psych ward?” Felicity asks quietly.

Eleanor almost laughs. Instead, she sighs. Leave it to Felicity to ask the hard questions. “I don’t know, dear.”

“I hope not,” Felicity admits. “I haven’t heard good things about the ward here.”

“No?”

“No. They say that the staff abuses the patients. Most people who go to the one here don’t get the help they need.” Felicity slides down next to Eleanor, sitting with her legs crossed. “I think it would be better if Monty just went home. Doctor Mendoza can help him.”

“It all depends on what the doctors say.”

They sit in silence for what feels like hours. It’s really closer to thirty minutes. Eventually, Felicity pulls out her phone and starts reading. It should be comforting, that small familiarity. But this whole setting is familiar for Eleanor and she hates that. 

Felicity rocks back and forth a little. “They’re taking a while,” she says.

“I don’t expect an evaluation like this to be quick.”

Felicity frowns. “I don’t get it.” Eleanor is about to attempt to explain the delicacy of the situation when Felicity continues. “Why didn’t we notice anything? Why couldn’t we have saved him?”

“We didn’t lose him, Felicity.”

“But we could have. Why didn’t he let us help him? Why . . . ?” Felicity trails off and angrily wipes at those rebellious tears again.

Eleanor shakes her head. Felicity is asking all of the questions that she wishes she had answers to.

The evaluation lasts about an hour. The doctor explains that Monty does not appear to pose an immediate danger to himself or others and has a support system so, after observing him for a day or two for medical purposes, they plan to send him home with a recommendation to see his therapist more frequently.

“So, should Mom and I go back. . . ?” Felicity trails off.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Percy says. “You drove all this way and given the circumstances . . .”

Monty gives Percy a look. It pleases Eleanor more than it probably should that Monty feels well enough to have an attitude.

Percy gives him a placating smile and squeezes his hand. He turns back to Eleanor and Felicity.  “You two can stay in the apartment until things settle down, if you’d like. We have two mattresses and a couch. I can take the couch.”

“We don’t have two mattresses,” Monty says to himself.

“I can put the blow-up in the studio.”

Monty doesn’t look like he very much likes this idea but says nothing.

“That works,” Felicity says.

When Monty and Percy got married, they moved into a larger, nicer apartment. This one has two bedrooms—one functions as an actual bedroom while the other doubles as an office and as a studio for Monty’s photography. The living room is larger and has a screen door leading to a small balcony. Eleanor remembers how pleased Monty was with the balcony and the lighting it provided for pictures. When Percy lets the three of them into the apartment, Eleanor notices the two chairs set up on the balcony. She wonders if Percy and her son sit there and talk like a retired married couple. The thought makes her smile.

As soon as they step inside, there’s a loud yowling. Monty’s cat, Yardstick, prances in. Eleanor wasn’t sure a three-legged cat could prance until now. Her collar jingles as she walks up. She’s wearing a blue sweater. She yowls again, setting herself at Percy’s feet.

“I bet it’s past your dinnertime,” Percy mutters. He turns to Eleanor and Felicity. “I need to go feed her. You two can decide who sleeps where. I can sleep wherever.” Then, he goes to the kitchen with Yardstick on his heels.

Eleanor turns to Felicity. “I can take the couch,” she says.

“Are you sure, Mom?” Felicity asks.

“Of course.”

Felicity just nods. Eleanor didn’t anticipate much of a fight. No one wants to sleep on a couch made more for sitting than lounging. Little ways.

When Percy returns, Yardstick is still following him, though quietly. She weaves around their legs and to the door. She makes a small noise and looks up at them with her one pleading eye.

“She misses Monty,” Percy explains quietly.

Another thing Eleanor didn’t realize this cat was capable of. She’s always loved cats but was never allowed to have one as a child or as a wife. Monty adores her, though. Yardstick is his pride and joy. And to think he might have never seen her again. It’s a strange sadness to feel but Eleanor is sympathetic for Yardstick. Monty would have never come home without Yardstick ever understanding why.

Percy must be having similar thoughts. He blinks a few times, takes a deep breath. “So,” he says, forcing his voice to be level. “Where is everyone sleeping?”

“I can take the couch,” Eleanor says again.

“I’ll take the air mattress,” Felicity adds.

“Are you sure? Neither of you want the bed?”

“No,” Eleanor and Felicity say at the same time.

“Okay,” Percy says, though he sounds hesitant. “Felicity, I can blow up the air mattress for you and then take a shower. We only have one bathroom so if either of you—”

“Percy,” Felicity interrupts. Percy stops. He looks a little overwhelmed, his speech speeding up. “Just show me where the air mattress is. I can blow it up and you can go shower.” Her voice is forcefully calm and measured.

Percy nods. “Okay,” he says again. “Eleanor, make yourself at home.” He leads Felicity into the hallway.

Eleanor looks around the living room. There isn’t much for her to do. When she left her apartment, she didn’t even bring a change of clothes. But it’s almost, if not past, midnight and anything like that she will have to handle in the morning.

She wanders out to the balcony. It’s not a very spacious thing. Almost the entire space is taken up by the two cushioned chairs. She sits in one—the right one because she imagines that Monty would want Percy on his good side. She imagines having her own lover to sit beside her on a balcony to watch a sleeping city. She can’t. She may believe in love, but that doesn’t mean she believes in it for herself. She is happy that in all the ways Monty resembles her, a bad marriage isn’t one of them.

And then she feels guilty again. So, so guilty. She always likes to think that Monty turned out alright, despite everything. He has a loving husband, a career he loves, a cat. It isn’t the life Eleanor always envisioned for her children but it is what Monty never dared to envision for himself. He is happy. Or, Eleanor thought he was. She thought that Monty had found happiness in the end. She thought that he had overcome everything his father did to him. But maybe he hadn’t. Maybe those memories would haunt Monty forever like they haunted Eleanor. Maybe there was a dark part of Monty still living in his father’s house.

Eleanor could have gotten him out of that house. She could have prevented that dark part. Or made it so much smaller. She can still see that dark part sometimes. Even as an adult, Monty still flinches if someone reaches for him too quickly or shouts at him.

He didn’t have to end up like that.

Eleanor doesn’t remember moving but she is standing at the edge of the balcony now. She grips the railing and leans over to look at the city but she isn’t really seeing it. She’s still thinking of the pain she saw on her son’s face today. She could have prevented that. She could have stopped Henry. She could have moved out when her children were so young that they might not even have remembered their father. Why didn’t she? Why was she such a coward?

Eleanor knows she still has dark parts living in her ex-husband’s house. She knows them from the ache in her chest when she looks at her broken son. She understands, suddenly, why Monty was so desperate to escape his dark parts.

She is pulled from her thoughts by a shout.

“Eleanor!” Percy grabs her by the arms and yanks her back from the railing. Eleanor gasps.

Was she about to jump? Was she about to run from her dark parts, too? From her guilt and her shame?

Percy pulls her inside and slams the screen door shut. He turns Eleanor around to face him. “What were you thinking?” Percy asks. He looks angrier than Eleanor has ever seen him. His grip on her arms is a little too tight. He seems to realize that when she does and pulls away. “Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says quickly. “But I need you to listen to me. Eleanor, are you listening?” he asks.

Eleanor nods, eyes wide. Percy can be frightening when he gets intense.

“Don’t even think about doing that,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you can’t leave Monty again.”

Eleanor notes his use of again .

“Monty needs us right now more than ever. We have to be there for him. We—you, me, Felicity—we are all he has. If you left him right now, if any of us did, it would break him, Eleanor. And you know he would blame himself because that’s how he is. Imagine how he would feel, to find out right now that his mother is dead.”

“I know, Percy,” Eleanor says. She still sounds like she’s gasping. “I wasn’t going to. It’s just so—“

“Hard?” Percy finishes for her. “I know. I know how hard it is. I had to find my husband half-dead on the floor. Do you know how hard that was? Do you know how much I want to give up too? Because he was barely breathing when I found him. I thought he was going to die in my arms.” Percy is shouting now. “I was the only one there! And I have been for so long ! You can’t just leave him again! It can’t be just me !” He says each word with emphasis. In Percy’s desperate, hurting voice, she hears the pain of loving someone who doesn’t love themself. 

There are tears in Percy’s eyes and he buries his face in his hands. He takes a long, shaking breath. His sobs are the only sound in the silence.

Eleanor doesn’t know what to do. Her chest aches again.

“Fuck,” Percy says between sobs. Eleanor doesn’t remember the last time she heard him swear, if ever. “I’m sorry.” His voice shakes. “I’m so sorry.” He won’t look up at her.

Tentatively, Felicity creeps out from the studio and wraps her arms around Percy from behind. Percy turns and Felicity lets him cry into her shoulder, hugging him tightly.

Felicity doesn’t like hugs. From anyone.

It’s that sight that brings Eleanor back to her senses. They’re just kids, they really are. Felicity is only twenty-two. Percy is only twenty-five. (If Eleanor hadn’t watched the two growing up so devoted to each other, she would have discouraged Monty and Percy getting married so young.) They’re just hurting kids. They’re her kids.

Eleanor has to remind herself that she is the adult right now. Not for the first time, Percy has made her realize that she needs to step up. She has been trying but she hasn’t been trying hard enough. Everyone is being hurt by this, probably Percy more than any of them, and Eleanor needs to help him instead of stress him out.

“My dear, you have nothing to apologize for.” Eleanor’s voice is shaking too.

Percy pulls away from Felicity, brushing tears from his cheeks. 

“I can’t even imagine the pain that you’re in. I’m sorry that all I’ve done is place an extra burden on you.” Eleanor steps forward and hesitantly takes Percy’s hands. He lets her.

“I didn’t mean to shout at you like that,” he says, quietly. “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I’m just so . . .” He trails off.

“I know.” Eleanor squeezes Percy’s hands. “You’re upset and you have every right to be. You have no need to apologize, Percy. I’m trying to be here for my son. But you’re my son too, and I should be trying to help you.”

Percy gives a small, tired smile. “Thank you, Eleanor.”

Eleanor is the first one awake in the morning. She has always been an early riser. She gets maybe five or six hours of sleep but she isn’t able to fall asleep again once she is awake. She drives to Walmart and buys a change of clothes. After she returns to the apartment and showers, she is still the only one awake. Percy and Felicity must be exhausted.

Eleanor goes to the kitchen with the intent to start on breakfast. The fridge doesn’t offer much but she can make eggs and coffee. She’s about to pull mugs down from the cabinet when she notices something on the counter.

A pack of cigarettes. Eleanor didn’t know either of them smoked. She picks it up.

“Those are Monty’s.”

Eleanor jumps and turns to see Percy in the doorway. (He needs to stop sneaking up on her.) He looks even more exhausted. Did he sleep last night?

“He smokes now when his mental state gets bad,” he says matter-of-factly. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.” Percy walks into the kitchen, taking the cigarettes from Eleanor and throwing them into the trash. Eleanor expects that to be the end of it but Percy keeps talking “He would smell like smoke sometimes. And I never brought it up because I didn’t want to fight with him.” Percy’s laughter is dry and fake. “God, I was stupid.”

Eleanor can tell Percy wants to say more. She guides him to sit at the table before she starts brewing the coffee.

“We’ve been fighting a lot these past few weeks. You know that could’ve been the last thing we did? Fight? We got into an argument yesterday morning before I left for rehearsal and neither of us apologized. I was going to apologize when I got home but . . .” He trails off.

“Oh,” is all Eleanor can manage.

“I should’ve known,” Percy says, his voice unsteady. “He always gets standoffish when he’s upset. I thought maybe it was just newlywed arguments, after the honeymoon phase or whatever. I should’ve realized something was wrong when we started getting into arguments over breakfast or laundry because it’s never really about breakfast or laundry at all. If I would’ve just asked him what was going on. All he ever wants is for me to ask.” 

Percy is crying again. Like leaking faucets the two of us, Eleanor thinks. But she also thinks they’re allowed to be.

“I missed out on so many signs. So many. I should’ve known. Looking back it’s all so obvious. I just feel like I—“

“Failed him?” Eleanor supplies.

“Yes,” Percy breathes. “I feel like I’m never what he needs.”

Eleanor sets a mug of coffee in front of Percy and sits across from him. “Percy, dear, if anyone has failed Monty, it isn’t you.”

“But I—“

“If you hadn’t been here yesterday, he really would have died. Honestly, if you hadn’t been here his whole life, Monty could have died. He needs you, Percy, even I can see that. He looks at you like you hung the moon and stars.”

Percy sniffles. “I love Monty with everything I have. And sometimes it still doesn’t feel like enough.”

Eleanor nods. She doesn’t know her son well but she does know him enough to tell Percy this with complete confidence. “I don’t think any of us could ever love him enough. Monty loves largely and loudly. You can’t fill someone with love when they’re always giving it away.” Eleanor reaches for Percy’s hand. “But he gives you more love than he gives anyone. The fact that you’re trying to give as much to him is enough.”

Percy nods, wiping furiously at tears with his free hand. “It’s so selfish of me but sometimes I feel like I did something wrong. I think that if he loves me so much why was he ready to leave me?” Eleanor is about to console him but Percy barrels on. “I know that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t thinking of it like that, if he was thinking at all. I just . . .”

Eleanor squeezes Percy’s hand. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me. You’re allowed to feel whatever you need to.”

Percy nods. He looks relieved. Eleanor wonders how that must feel: to almost lose the most important person in your life.

Eleanor isn’t sure she has one of those.

Percy sips on his coffee. His tears have subsided but he’s shaky.

“How much rest did you get last night?” Eleanor has to ask. Especially after that, Percy looks like he could keel over.

“Not much,” Percy admits. “I know he’s okay and he’ll be home soon. Maybe even tonight. But this is just . . . a lot. I couldn’t turn my mind off it. And I called my parents and they talked to me for a long time.”

“Are they coming?” she asks.

“No, I didn’t want to make it into a huge deal. I mean, it is, but for Monty’s sake I didn’t want the whole family here, you know?”

Eleanor nods. “That’s probably best. How about you go try to get some rest. You look dead on your feet. I can go visit Monty and you and Felicity can join us later.”

She can see Percy wrestle with the decision. Eleanor understands that Percy wants to spend as little time away from Monty as possible. But Percy needs rest and Eleanor needs to talk to Monty.

Percy’s exhaustion wins out. “Yeah, okay,” he finally says.

Eleanor knocks softly on the door but doesn’t wait for a reply before letting herself in. She doesn’t miss the way Monty’s face lights up, then falls when he realizes that it’s her and not Percy.

“Where’s Percy?” is the first thing he asks her.

“He’s still at the apartment,” Eleanor explains. “He’s exhausted. I told him to get some rest and he can join us here.”

“Is Felicity with him?” he asks. When Eleanor nods, something flashes across Monty’s face. Eleanor doesn’t catch what it is but she knows. She knows Monty doesn’t want it to be just them. But it needs to be. She needs to have this conversation and she isn’t sure she would have the strength to if Percy or Felicity were here.

She sits in a chair beside the bed, sure to be on Monty’s good side. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” Monty says.

Eleanor takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Monty.”

Monty turns to look at her. “What?”

“I failed you as a mother,” she says. She isn’t surprised when he doesn’t argue. “I failed you for the first nineteen years of your life and even though I try, I still fail you.”

Monty hugs himself. Eleanor recognizes that habit. She’s coming too close but she doesn’t care. “Where is this coming from?” he asks.

“This conversation is long overdue. And after yesterday, I realized I couldn’t put it off anymore.”

“What, because I almost died?” Monty asks drily. He’s so flippant about it. It shakes Eleanor a little.

“Partially,” Eleanor admits. “But I also feel responsible.”

“For me trying to kill myself?” He’s trying to get a rise out of her. Monty doesn’t want to have this conversation. He’s trying to upset her and start a fight. He’s exactly like her. Monty may be almost the spitting image of his father, but inside, he’s just like her.

Eleanor doesn’t take the bait. She just nods. “I know that the things your father did still affect you. I’m sorry I didn’t try to save you from him sooner.” Monty opens his mouth but Eleanor doesn’t let him get a word in. “Don’t. Don’t argue with me.”

Monty stares at her, surprised. “What?”

Eleanor gives him a wry smile. “You and I are the same, Monty.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are my son, through and through. You have all my bad habits. You don’t like talking about your feelings and you snap with people when they press too hard on your sensitive spots. You’re trying to pick a fight with me so we don’t have to have this conversation. You turn to drinking and smoking. I was a drinker in high school, and college, too. I was better at hiding it from my family, but still. Guess where that landed me?”

Monty is still staring, dumbfounded.

“That’s how I ended up with your father. Too many drinks at a party and the most handsome man I had ever met. I ended up pregnant and my parents made me marry him. They were very old-fashioned, your grandparents. But things with your father weren’t awful. I thought that maybe we could love each other. I thought I loved him. He was good to me, at first.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Monty asks.

Eleanor doesn’t answer him. “But then he wasn’t good to me anymore. He started hurting you and I asked him to stop but he refused and he would shout at me and threaten me when I challenged him. He never hurt me but I was scared. I was scared of defying him. I was scared of leaving and being a single mom with no job experience and two young kids. Every day I felt more guilty and more trapped. I couldn’t even look at you because when I did, all I could see was what he did to you, what I couldn’t protect you from. I never stopped caring. I just didn’t know what to do.

“When you were hospitalized, I had had enough. I saw an opportunity to divorce him and get full custody, even if it was only of your sister. It was my breaking point but it should have come so much sooner. At the very least, I should have been there for you and your sister. But I left you both alone and I’m sorry. I thought too much of myself and not enough of how to help my children. But I’m trying to fix it every day. I really am trying, Monty. I don’t expect us to ever be as close as Percy and Josee, but I want to be a good mother to you, even if it is years overdue. I understand that you’re angry with me because of everything that happened but I hope that one day you can forgive me.”

“I want to,” Monty says softly.

“What?”

“I want to,” Monty repeats. He twists his wedding ring on his finger. “I want to forgive you. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I’m so tired of being angry. I’m just not sure I know how to stop.” He glances at Eleanor, like he’s afraid of what she’ll say.

Eleanor nods. She knows about holding onto anger. “It’s never that simple, is it?”

“Not really.”

“I’m not going to pressure you about it. But I just want to make sure you know how sorry I am. I love you and I needed to be honest with you, like I should have been a long time ago. But I know it isn’t easy to let go.”

“I’ll always hate him,” Monty says.

“Me too,” Eleanor murmurs.

“But I don’t want to hate you anymore.”

And it’s not an I love you . But Eleanor will take it. It’s more than she deserves.

“I can tell that you’re trying,” he says. “I know you are. I appreciate that you’re still trying. That you never checked out again.”

“I never will.” She wants to promise that.

Monty nods, looking skeptical. “Doctor Mendoza says I have a habit of pushing people away when I’m afraid.”

Eleanor nods to show that she’s listening.

“I started picking fights with Percy,” Monty admits. 

He’s circling back to more comfortable territory but Eleanor doesn’t mind it now. She said what she needed to. She listens intently because, even though she already knows all this, she wants Monty to know she cares.

“I started panicking. It’s stupid after we’ve been together for so long. But being his husband felt a lot harder than being his boyfriend. I kept wanting him to fight with me so I had an excuse to walk away that wasn’t . . . being scared.”

“But you love Percy.”

“Exactly,” Monty says. When he sees that Eleanor doesn’t get it, he sighs. “I felt like I was letting him down, or I was going to, and it would be easier for him if I just . . . left—”

Eleanor interrupts. “Monty, that isn’t why you . . . ?”

Monty shakes his head. “No. That wasn’t why. I wasn’t even really thinking about that when I did what I did.” He steers away from that subject again. The look on Monty’s face can only be described as shame. “When I was fighting with Percy, I wanted it to end while we were still in love. I didn’t want things to end when I did something wrong and he stopped loving me. I don’t know what I would do with myself if Percy stopped loving me.”

Eleanor almost brings up her conversation with Percy this morning. But Monty and Percy need to have their own conversation about this. “Monty, for all the ways that you take after me, you did one thing I couldn’t manage: you found a wonderful husband who loves you and would do anything for you. You and Percy are everything to each other. I don’t know how you two don’t seem to see that.” When Eleanor impulsively reaches for Monty’s hand, he lets her take it. “You just need to have a talk with him.”

“I know,” he says. “But maybe only one emotionally taxing conversation a day? At least for now? I did just slip past getting put into a psych ward.”

Eleanor shakes her head ruefully. “Your sister may have been right. You shouldn’t be allowed to do this stuff so often.”

It draws a small laugh out of Monty that Eleanor considers a victory.

The next day, Monty was cleared to leave the hospital. Percy went to go pick him up while Eleanor and Felicity stayed at the apartment. Eleanor went to the store and now she’s making dinner. After her divorce, Eleanor began to discover things she liked doing. She found she enjoyed things like knitting and found a new love for cooking, especially cooking for other people.

Felicity is sitting at the table, reading from a textbook. She isn’t allowed to touch things in the kitchen as her cooking skills are worse than her brother’s. Eleanor hopes that, should Felicity get married, her spouse knows how.

Felicity has never come out to Eleanor but Eleanor has her hunches. But if Felicity wants to tell her, she’ll tell her on her own time.

Admittedly, Eleanor wasn’t sure how to feel when Monty told her that he was bisexual. She barely even knew the word. And then Monty started painting his nails and wearing makeup and Eleanor panicked a little bit. She wasn’t sure what to do and was more than a little scared for Monty’s sake. Hadn’t he just escaped years of abuse for these exact things? Couldn’t that still happen to some degree in public? But Monty is an adult and Eleanor had to accept that he knew what he wanted and how he wanted to express himself. Besides, when she saw how happy he was—dressing as he did and going to Pride and dating Percy—how could she do anything but support him? And if Felicity turns out to not be straight, how could she do anything but support her?

When Monty and Percy return, there’s jingling as Yardstick runs up to Monty. Monty makes a pleased sound and picks up Yardstick.

“Yardstick, my baby!” Monty says, warranting a fond eye roll from Percy.

Looking at Monty, smiling and cradling his cat in his arms, Eleanor realizes how much she doesn’t understand about him. How can this Monty be the same Monty that days ago tried to take his own life? She dismisses those thoughts as soon as they come to her. What matters now is that Monty isn’t dead or in danger. It’s not her job to understand everything about what happened. It’s her job to be there for him after it has happened.

“Eleanor,” Percy says, distracting her, “you’re cooking?”

“I figured everyone would be hungry by now.” Eleanor shrugs.

Percy smiles, albeit looking a little surprised. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Eleanor says. “In fact, the spaghetti should be nearly done. Felicity, dear, would you make space for your brothers?”

Even though Eleanor turns back to the stove, she can feel all of them staring at her. She was hesitant about referring to them like that but it felt right.

“Sure,” Felicity finally said. Eleanor heard movement resume behind her as Felicity cleared her things and Monty and Percy pulled down bowls and cups. Wordlessly, while putting ice in all their cups, Percy reaches over and squeezes her hand for a moment before he continues what he is doing. It makes Eleanor smile.

When they all sit down to eat, things are quiet. Monty clearly isn’t up for much conversation so the rest of them fill it in with chatter.

“So, uh, do you guys still need me here?” Felicity asks. “I mean I have no problem staying a few more days but—”

“No, Feli, you can go home,” Monty says. “Really, you guys didn’t need to come at all.”

“Of course we were going to come,” Eleanor interjects.

“But if you don’t need me for anything anymore,” Felicity adds, “I should probably drive back soon.”

Monty nods and looks to Eleanor. “Mom?”

“I think I’ll wait to leave until tomorrow morning if that’s alright with you two. I don’t want to drive home in the dark.”

“I’ll leave tonight so Mom can have the air mattress,” Felicity says. “It’ll be better if I can make class tomorrow anyway.”

That evening, after Felicity leaves, Eleanor cleans up the kitchen. Monty and Percy both disappeared into their room not long ago and Eleanor figures they need some time to themselves. When the kitchen is clean, Eleanor settles on the couch and flips through channels on the TV, not really paying attention. Things are more peaceful now but still hard to digest. Though it’s not obvious, there must still be something deeply wrong with Monty. It’s hard to shake the memory of his face when they first entered his hospital room. It’s hard to forget how tired and miserable Monty looked. She hasn’t seen a hint of that misery since then, though. Eleanor thinks of the interest in theatre that Monty took up in college, how impressive everyone said he was because his emotions always seemed so genuine.

He really is a wonderful actor.

After maybe an hour, Percy emerged, Monty-less. He perches himself on the couch next to Eleanor.

“Monty’s already asleep,” he informs her. “He was pretty exhausted, didn’t get much sleep in the hospital.”

“I don’t know anyone who could.”

Percy nods. He’s awkward, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Um, Eleanor?”

“Yes, dear?” Eleanor turns to Percy.

“I just wanted to thank you for being here . . . and for saying what you said earlier.”

Eleanor smiles. “I was serious when I said that you’re my son too, Percy.”

The next day, Eleanor makes breakfast for Monty and Percy before she leaves.

“Eleanor, you really don’t have to do all this,” Percy says when he sees it.

“It’s just breakfast,” Eleanor says. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t remember the last time we ate breakfast,” Monty says.

“I made waffles for your birthday.”

Eleanor stares at them. “That was months ago.”

“We’re more of a coffee and maybe toast couple,” Monty explains.

Eleanor tsks. “Maybe I shouldn’t leave so soon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mom,” Monty says. His cheeks are a little pink. “We’re fully functioning adults.”

“Semi-functioning,” Percy corrects when Eleanor gives them a look.

Eleanor sighs. “Fine, I’ll leave. But I really would like to visit you two sometime, and not because of an emergency.”

“We’re not that far,” Monty says.

“Or we can come to you,” Percy offers.

“We’ll work something out,” Eleanor decides. She retrieves her bag from the living room. “Well, if there’s nothing else you two need, I’ll be on my way.”

“Drive safe,” Percy says, giving Eleanor a tight hug. Percy is a good hugger, squeezing her before he lets go. It doesn’t surprise Eleanor.

What does surprise her is the hug she gets after that. Monty. His hug is less sure than Percy’s. She can practically feel him wanting to pull away, but he commits to it. Eleanor wants to cry. She can’t remember the last time her son hugged her voluntarily. Maybe when he was ten?

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for coming. And for staying.”

Eleanor knows that he means more than just coming to see him in the hospital. She gives Monty a gentle squeeze. “I’ll always be here when you need me.”