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As it turned out, checking in with Uncle Donald was something that all three of them needed. After non-stop driving, emotional rollercoasters, getting on each other’s nerves, and Dewey’s candy withdrawals... yeah, it was nice to remove that from their lives for awhile.
It felt nice just to see Uncle Donald’s face; the one who has always wanted them, no matter what.
It felt really good to sleep in their room again too. Their room had never been very big, but there was a whole lot more space than inside the camper. Huey and Louie also appreciated having their own beds.
They didn’t stay long. They stayed long enough though. Long enough to spend some much-needed time with their uncle.
They stayed two nights before they hit the road again. It was a little uncomfortable to move back into the camper van, but after living in it for so many weeks, it didn’t take them long to readjust.
“Do you think we talked long enough?” Louie asked worriedly. This was the fortieth time he’d asked that. “I feel like we didn’t talk to him enough. Uncle D hasn’t seen us in so long, and we were so distant, and—“
“Lou, we spent two full days with him,” Dewey said.
They were all up front with Dewey in the passenger seat, Louie leaning on his armrest, and Huey driving.
Louie chewed on his lip. “Yeah, but we haven’t seen him in so long. And he was really sad when we left—“
Huey groaned in annoyance. “Oh my gosh, shut up Louis!”
“You shut up! I just...” Louie crossed his arms and stared at the ground. “I just don’t wanna drift away from him.”
Huey stole a glance at Louie and sighed, rubbing at his temples. “I’m sorry,” he said, “But don’t worry. None of us are going to drift away. Uncle D is Uncle D.”
Louie relaxed a little, but didn’t seem completely convinced.
“Plus,” Dewey chimed in, reaching into his bag on the floor. “I brought my backup laptop along. We can Skype Uncle D anytime we want or need.” He opened up the laptop to show Louie. “See?”
“That’s the thing where you can see the faces and talk, right?” Louie asked.
“Yup,” Dewey replied, patting Louie’s arm.
“I don’t know how to use that.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“Does Uncle Donald know how to use it?”
“... I’ll talk him through it.”
Huey suddenly sighed, frustration seeped in his expression. “Could you guys keep it down? You’re loud,” he said.
Dewey and Louie blinked, sharing a look. They hadn’t been loud at all.
“Huey,” Dewey began cautiously, “are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine!” Huey shouted.
“You don’t sound fine,” Louie said slowly.
Huey swallowed and sighed. “Sorry. I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said curtly, “Just leave me alone. I didn’t sleep well.”
Louie looked at Dewey and knew he was thinking the same thing.
“Okay. We’ll leave ya alone,” said Dewey.
For now, at least.
•
•
Dewey and Louie were pretty good at picking up symptoms in Huey, signalling the possibility of a relapse. Even though he took the proper pills, depressive episodes still happened. Not often, thankfully. But at unexpected times and for no underlying reason.
Headaches were usually a sign. Huey tended to get painful headaches before he relapsed.
Anyone who knew Huey as well as his brothers, could tell the relapse was starting when he was constantly angry.
Then during it, he was sad. He was sad all the time and there was nothing that could cheer him up. Until it was over. And that could take a day. A week. A month. It never had a clear timeline.
And Dewey could never begin to imagine how hard that was on Huey, but it was really hard to watch him go through all of that. And as much as Dewey wished he didn’t have to see it, he had to. Because during those times, Huey needed comfort and to be watched. Because if he wasn’t, then he might try... something stupid. And the thought of that was worse than seeing Huey in pain.
Right now, Dewey and Louie weren’t sure what would happen. They didn’t know if Huey just didn’t sleep well, or if the storm was coming in.
Dewey would observe. Look for the signs. Headache. Anger. Sadness. And if it did happen, he would be prepared.
Well... hopefully.
Uncle Donald had always been there. For the first time, it was just Dewey and Louie. And Dewey hoped the two of them would be enough to take care of Huey.
•
•
Maybe it’d been a false alarm, Louie thought. The next morning, Huey was pretty happy. He woke up early, made breakfast and coffee, all while smiling and humming. He turned the radio on and then they were moving again.
“Rosebud Village is just a few weeks away,” muttered Dewey, looking at the map, “We remember where Mrs. Beakley and Webby live, right?”
“Yup,” Louie and Huey replied in unison. Louie was hanging off the back of the driver’s seat.
“Okay. And then when we’re done visiting, it’s six days to Duck Leaf,” Dewey said before nodding to himself and closing the map.
“How long are we staying?” asked Louie.
“Probably about as long as we stayed at home,” Huey replied.
Louie chuckled. “I can hear Webby complaining, ‘that’s not long enough!’ already.”
Huey laughed, a happy melody in his tone.
Louie smiled at him. At that moment, he was sure it was just a false alarm. Huey was okay.
Dewey continued to observe, never letting his guard down.
•
•
Huey woke up the next morning, groggy and cranky. Which wasn’t unusual. Huey wasn’t typically a morning person. But this wasn’t a typical morning. Huey was rubbing his head and groaning and glaring.
Dewey held his breath and watched carefully. He didn’t know if a storm was starting or not.
“You tired, Hugh?” Louie asked, while making coffee. “I can drive if you want.”
Dewey knew it was a storm when Huey glared at Louie.
“Why do you always think I want to drive?!” he demanded.
Louie blinked, surprised. “Uh, well, you usually do—“
“Well, I don’t want to!”
“Okay, I’m sorry—“
“I don’t want your useless apology! You only apologize when you get insecure! I hate when you act like such a baby! Grow up already!” Huey yelled, face red with anger.
Louie was frozen, hurt swimming in his eyes.
Dewey knew he had to diffuse the situation. “You don’t sound like yourself, Hugh.” That was a giant understatement. Huey would’ve never, in a million years, ever said that to Louie, if nothing was wrong. “Why don’t you lay down?” he suggested calmly, maintaining distance from Huey.
When he was angry, Uncle Donald never got too close or touched Huey. It only added fuel to the fire. Dewey had to do this right. He needed to do exactly like Uncle Donald.
Huey scoffed, “I will. But because I want to, not because you told me to.” He climbed into bed and faced the wall.
Dewey sighed. He hoped he was handling this right. He had to handle this right.
He turned to Louie, who was blinking rapidly. He had to do something.
Dewey grabbed Louie’s arm. “Come,” he whispered, and took him outside the camper van.
“Why’d he say that?” Louie asked, voice cracking and near tears.
“Hey, no, don’t cry,” Dewey said, squeezing Louie’s shoulder comfortingly. “He didn’t mean it.”
Louie scrubbed at his face. “Then why—“
“Because he’s having a relapse.”
Louie’s eyes widened. “What? But he was fine yesterday!”
“I know,” Dewey said, “but that doesn’t matter. It’s starting now.”
Louie looked down sadly.
Dewey put both hands on his shoulders. “Right now, we have to be strong. Okay, Huey needs us,” he said. When Louie looked up at him, Dewey looked him directly in the eye. “He didn’t mean to hurt you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. If he lashes out again, don’t let his words get to your head.”
Louie took a deep breath, then nodded.
Dewey patted his shoulder. “Okay,” he said.
Then they went back in, as prepared as they could possibly be.
•
•
Louie didn’t know which was worse. The angry yelling, or the crying at night.
He and Dewey were sleeping in shifts now. And every night, they heard Huey cry himself to sleep.
It pierced Louie’s heart.
But the yelling pierced too. Every morning, Huey had something to yell at Louie about. Louie told himself each time that he didn’t mean it. When Huey cried at night, he heard him sob apologies and regrets that he didn’t think Louie could hear. Louie forgave him each time. That didn’t stop it from stinging though.
Dewey took care of most things. Did most of the driving. Did all of the cooking. Made sure Huey took his medication. Talked Huey through his outbursts and breakdowns.
Louie tried to help, but it was hard. And he felt guilty about letting Dewey always take care of things.
“Leave me alone.” That was Huey.
Louie was driving. He could hear both his brothers in the back. Uncle Donald usually did what Dewey was doing; get Huey to open up about how he was feeling.
“Come on, Hugh. Just talk to me,” said Dewey.
“Why should I? What do you care?” Huey snapped.
Louie tried to just focus on the road. He’d never been very good at multi-tasking. It wasn’t good if his attention was divided. Yet his brothers’ voices still reached his ears.
“I care about you, Huey. I love you.”
“No, you don’t! I’m just some psychology experiment to you! You don’t love me! You love science! You hate your feelings! You hate your emotions! It’s why you always run away from them! Because you’re a coward and you don’t want to have a heart!”
Louie’s blood went cold.
It was silent for a long, long time.
Then there was a sniffle.
“Dewey... Deuteronomy,” Louie heard Huey say softly and regretfully, “I’m sorry... I... I didn’t mean... I don’t know why I...”
“I know. It’s okay,” Louie heard Dewey hiccup, “It’s okay. We need to focus on you. I’m... okay...” And then Dewey was crying.
Louie slowed down and pulled over, parking on the side of the highway. He sat there, staring blankly at the road and listening to the sound of sobs; a sound that had become more familiar that it should it be.
•
•
Huey stopped talking. His brothers tried to get him to speak, but he wouldn’t. Huey didn’t want to hurt them again. This was the only way to stop hurting his little brothers.
•
•
It was the eighth night when Louie just couldn’t take anymore. Huey was crying again. Louie had to do something.
He turned around. Huey immediately flinched back when he saw his eyes were open.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Louie whispered, “It’s okay.” He drew Huey into a hug, waiting for him to relax. He sighed a breath of relief when Huey sunk against him. “Tell me how you feel,” Louie whispered, rubbing a hand up and down Huey’s back.
Huey shook his head.
“Please,” Louie said, “you’ll feel better after you talk about it.”
Huey shook his head again.
“Please. I just want to help you. Please,” Louie pleaded, hugging Huey tighter. He felt so small in Louie’s arms. This wasn’t the Huey Louie knew.
Quiet and trembling, Huey finally began to speak, “I keep hurting everyone around me. It’s like it’s all I know how to do. I just keep hurting those I love.”
“No, no you don’t. Don’t think that,” Louie said gently, “It’s not your fault. You feel bad right now.”
“It’s not an excuse!” Huey cried, tears falling hotly. “I hurt you. I-I made Dewey cry. All I do is hurt people. You’d be better off without me.”
Louie felt tears welling up in his own eyes. He squeezed his arms around Huey, trying to convey what he was feeling. “Please don’t ever say that again!” he begged, digging his fingers in the back of Huey’s shirt. “We need you. I need you. We love you. You’re needed! I don’t know what’d I do without you. I need you.”
Huey sobbed and shook his head. “No. No, no—“
“Yes,” Louie said, holding Huey tighter and tighter, afraid to let him go. “We need you, Hubert. You’re our spark. You’re our warrior. You’re our light and fire.”
Huey slowly, hesitantly m hugged Louie back, laying his cheek over Louie’s heartbeat. “Really?” he whispered, tears no longer as hot.
“Really,” Louie promised, wrinkling Huey’s shirt in his grip.
Huey yawned tiredly, eyelids beginning to fall closed. The sorrow in his bones had calmed.
•
•
Louie was driving. It was early morning, the sun just rising. Huey and Dewey were at the table, having some coffee.
Huey had been more talkative the last two days. Less tense. Less prone to outbursts. Still tired and clearly very sad, but he was at least speaking. That was a good sign.
“I don’t want Webby to see me like this,” Huey said.
“What?” Dewey asked with a frown, putting his coffee mug down.
Huey sighed, rubbing his head. “I don’t want Webby to see me out of control, like this.”
Dewey’s chest ached for his brother. “You’re not ‘out of control’, Hugh,” he said.
“Yes, I am,” Huey protested, “I’m not in control of anything. I’m sad. I’m angry. I can’t sleep. And I keep thinking...” Huey hesitated, glancing up at Dewey. He swallowed and looked down. “I keep thinking that... I just don’t wanna feel anymore.”
A pinch of panic spiked through Dewey, but he stayed calm. He thought for a moment. “We’ll take a detour to Rosebud Village,” he said. Then he tapped the table to get Huey to look at him. “And whenever you’re having...” Dewey gulped, “suicidal thoughts... tell me. Okay?”
Slowly, Huey nodded.
Dewey reached over and put his hand on Huey’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Huey rubbed at his head again. “Sorry I made you cry.”
Dewey smiled. “It’s okay.”
Huey rubbed his eyes, yawning. “I know how hard it is for you to name your feelings.”
“Huey, it’s okay—“
“No,” Huey interjected, looking directly at his brother’s eyes. “You feel, just like everybody else. You’re human. And your feelings matter.”
Dewey was quiet, heart warm. He hadn’t realized how much he really needed to hear that.
When Huey yawned once again, Dewey smiled and poked his hand.
“Your feelings matter too,” he said.
The weight inside Huey lifted just a little more.
•
•
More time passed. Huey wasn’t getting better. The nights got worse. Huey yelled, and cried, and he wouldn’t eat. It was a struggle to get him to take his medicine.
What broke Dewey’s heart the most, was listening to him break down in tears after he said that he wanted to die. It haunted Dewey; hung over his head at all times.
And he was starting to get scared. The last time Huey had a relapse this bad was when they were fourteen, and Huey had nearly injured himself. The thought of anything like that happening again, scared Dewey.
And if Dewey was scared, he knew Louie had to be terrified.
They channelled their fear into energy. Huey was never without a pair of eyes on him. Dewey held onto his pills. Louie didn’t let him near anything sharp. Dewey made sure he ate and drank. Louie checked his wrists everyday.
Huey fought a little harder each day to find himself.
•
•
Louie sighed, keeping his eyes on the road while he tried to find a radio station. He mostly got static. He was driving in the night, the moon shedding light on the road for him. He had been driving a lot and he was starting to get tired of it. How Huey did it, Louie had no idea.
“Hey.”
Louie glanced up to see Dewey, pushing aside the curtains.
“Hey,” Louie said back, as Dewey sat in the passenger seat.
“Hugh’s asleep,” Dewey told him before he yawned and rubbed at his eyes.
“And why aren’t you asleep?” Louie asked.
Dewey slumped against his headrest, staring sadly out the windshield.
“What’s wrong?” asked Louie.
“What if...” Dewey sighed, “What if this road trip caused this?”
“What?” Louie frowned. He shook his head. “You know nothing causes his relapses. They happen because he has depression.”
“I know,” Dewey said, huffing, “I just—if it weren’t for me, we probably wouldn’t even be here.”
“Dew. If anything, I think that’s a good thing. What if you hadn’t tried to find Dad? You really think any of us would’ve been satisfied, living the rest of our lives without knowing?”
Dewey thought about that. “No.”
Louie nodded. “Exactly.”
Dewey picked at the seat cover. “He’d kill me if he found out I told you this, but... Huey’s been worried that Da—Jack, doesn’t love us.”
Louie was quiet.
Dewey looked down. “He never wanted to say anything because he knew you had hope. He didn’t want to take that away.”
Louie’s chest clenched. He sighed. “I’ve thought of that too,” he said.
Dewey blinked. “What?”
“I wonder why he left all the time,” Louie said, “Of course I want to believe he had a reason. But maybe the reason is because... he just didn’t like us.” Louie’s breath hitched. “But people change! And m-maybe h-he changed h-his mind,” Louie sniffled, eyes starting to turn red. He rubbed at them quickly.
“Pull over,” Dewey said softly, “I’ll drive now.”
Louie inhaled and exhaled shakily, then parked on the side of the road. He undid his seatbelt and stood up. Then he and Dewey switched seats.
“When will Huey be happy again?” Louie asked, wiping away the tears in his eyes.
Dewey put the camper van in drive. “I don’t know,” he replied.
Louie cleared his throat. “I know he didn’t want Webby to see him when he’s like this. But we’re almost at Rosebud Village.”
Dewey nodded. “I know.”
•
•
Huey sat at the table, staring down at his coffee. It was probably cold by now. He hadn’t taken a sip of it in hours.
He was so tired. It felt like he was falling inside a black hole and he was falling deeper and deeper into the darkness. It felt like he hadn’t seen the sun in years, while he knew in reality, he’d only been like this for a few weeks. A few weeks that felt like forever.
He felt weak. His body was exhausted. He was sleep-deprived. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t cried. His memory was fuzzy altogether. His thoughts were swarming. His heart hurt.
He just wanted it all to stop.
He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop. He couldn’t take much more of this. He wanted to stop feeling like he was falling. He wanted to stop feeling like he was worthless, useless, a waste, a burden. He just wanted it all to end.
If this was what being alive felt like, he didn’t want to be alive anymore.
He didn’t want to care anymore.
And he must have said that out loud because Louie was hugging him and Dewey had a hand in his hair. His ears were ringing, so it was hard to hear what they were saying.
Dewey and Louie would be better off if he was dead anyway. All he did was hurt them. He didn’t deserve them; didn’t deserve to be loved by them. He was a hazard to both of them, as well as himself. They’d all be better off if he would just die—
Huey’s eyes widened when Louie suddenly grabbed his face.
“Shut up, Huey’s brain!” he yelled.
Huey blinked. His mind... had gone blank.
They must’ve parked again. They were all at the table. Dewey was curled up behind him, arm wrapped around his torso, chest against his back, and face buried his shoulder. Louie was standing in front of him, both hands on his face.
Then Louie leaned in close, pressing their foreheads together, and gazing at Huey fiercely.
“You’re our light and fire,” he said.
And the sorrow inside Huey still didn’t go away, but love had broke through the wall of darkness in Huey’s mind. He could see a light. A small light, but a light nonetheless.
Louie and Dewey needed him. He didn’t get to decide if they’d be better off without him or not. It wasn’t his choice to make.
His brothers said they needed him and Huey trusted them with his whole being. If Dewey and Louie said they needed him, then Huey believed them.
If he was their light and fire, then he had to fight harder for them.
•
•
“It’s gonna be okay,” Dewey whispered that night, laying in bed with Huey while Louie was driving.
Huey believed him.