Topic: believe me, you can't believe your dreams

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-09-12 18:32 EST
Ella,

You aren't going to believe this, but I swear it's true. I'm stuck in another dimensi

* * *

Ella,

I can't explain where I am, because you'll just write it off as me being crazy. This doesn't have anything to do with

* * *

Ella,

What you need to know is that I'm stuck somewhere and I can't get back because of the other ones in my head. I'm working on it. Are you clean? Because if you aren't, and anything happens to my son before

* * *

Ella,

I can't explain where I am right now, only that I can't come back because of the way I am. I am working on it. It could take a really, really long time. Please be careful if you aren't clean. Take care of our son. Make sure he knows that I haven't forgotten about him, that I love him, and that I'd do anything to see him again. Don't turn him against me. I'm sick, Ella. He believes that. Please let him keep believing that.

I'm sorry that this messes up the divorce. If you send papers back with Jackie (and yes, she knows about everything, and yes, she's seeing me, not somebody else), I'll sign whatever you need. I won't fight you for custody anymore -- I can't, not when I can't come back right now. Just please be careful if you aren't clean. You're all he has now.

I miss you, too. I'll always love you, Ella. A little piece of me will -- of me. I'm sorry there were so many others that got in the way.

Love,

Ben

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-09-15 14:07 EST
Dear Adam,

How is school so far this year? How is soccer going? What about baseball -- playoffs?

I really miss you. If I could come home, I would -- I'd do anything. Remember when I told you we would figure it out? It has to do with that. I'm trying really hard to figure it out and get better and come home.

How's Mom doing? Is everything okay at home?

I don't know if you saw the girl that dropped off this letter, but she's a really important person to me; you can trust her. Her name is Jackie, and she's been helping me out a lot at this new place I'm living. She means a lot to me. Her address is in this envelope -- you could write me and send it to her and she'll make sure I get it. If you want to -- you don't have to -- but it would be really good to hear from you. Maybe someday you can visit, but not until you're older. Your mom would never let you, and that's okay. Don't fight with her about it.

No matter what, just remember that I love you and I miss you. I think about you every day, Adam. I want to come home for you more than anything else in the world, and I'm working as hard as I can to make that happen. That's the truth.

Be good.

Love,

Dad

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-09-23 13:26 EST
Postmarked from Vancouver, BC, September 17, 2012

Dad,

I hope this letter gets to you. I sent it to the address you gave me and Jackie told me that whatever I send you there will get to you. She's really nice. Is she helping you a lot? I wish I could help too.

School is okay. Yesterday Mom started talking about home schooling again, but I don't want to do that. I like seeing my friends at school. Steven and Billy don't come over, they both said their moms won't let them, and Justin's mom does but Mom never really leaves us alone when he's over and it's kind of annoying. So I really can only have fun with them during school, so I don't want to just stay home with Mom all the time for home school.

Soccer is good. Jackie told me you wouldn't be able to make it to my games for a while, but that's ok. There will be lots of them later too. I made the game winning goal at my last one. Coach said next year I'll be with the older kids for sure. Baseball is okay but I miss having you at practice. The other kids ask sometimes where you are, but I just tell them you're really busy being a detective and catching bad guys. Is that okay to say, even though it's not true?

Mom says you aren't ever coming back, and that if you do that you won't be allowed to see me anyway. I don't believe her. Besides, I sneak out a lot now. Not to do bad things, but just to go to the park by myself or sometimes Justin and Steven and Billy are there and we read comics or go climb trees or sometimes go in the woods. Billy's dad is building him a treehouse there, and we're starting a club. But if I can sneak out with them then I bet I could sneak out with you too sometimes, when you can come back here. Mom won't know. She's sick a lot and she's in the bathroom a lot or in her bedroom, and she never finds out when I'm gone.

She'll probably get mad if you send anything here but could you keep writing to me? You can send it to Justin's. He can keep a secret.

I miss you, Dad. I hope you get better soon. But don't worry about me. I'll be ok until you are.

Love,

Adam

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-09-29 03:52 EST
Dear Adam,

Your letter got to me just fine. I'm going to see if I can work out something a little easier eventually, but for now, Jackie said she doesn't mind being a go-between for us. She really is helping a lot.

Don't worry about what Mom says. Not about homeschooling, not about me not coming back for you. If she tries to pull you out of school, just write me and let me know. She can't just do that without talking to me about it, even if she's taking care of you right now. I'm still your dad, right? Even if your mom and I aren't together anymore. So don't worry. And I know you know better than to listen to her about me when she's talking about me not being able to see you again. I will.

You shouldn't sneak out, Adam. But if you do, that sounds like a lot of fun, playing with your friends. What kind of club is it? No girls, right?

I'm sorry I'm missing your games. That's great that you're going to be playing with the older kids next year. I'm really proud of you, Adam. Send me a schedule and I'll cheer you on from where I am, okay? And I think that's fine, to tell the other kids that I'm busy working. It's true, you know. I'm working really hard where I am, really really hard. Putting bad guys away, too.

Please keep writing me, okay? It really helps me to hear from you, about how you're doing. Keep me posted on your mom, too, alright? I don't need to hear all about it -- I want you to write about whatever you feel like writing; I just want to hear from you -- but I like to know if she's doing okay or not, if she's still pretty sick or if she's feeling better. But that's not the important thing -- the important thing is just to hear from you. Got it?

I miss you. I think about you every day.

Love,

Dad


Remember to send me your schedules for soccer and baseball!

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-10-07 18:07 EST
Postmarked from Vancouver, BC, October 3, 2012

Dad,

I put my soccer and baseball schedules for the rest of the season in this envelope. Both teams are doing really good! I wish you could be here to watch, but it's ok that you can't yet. Maybe you can see some of my indoor games in the winter if you can get back then.

Billy fell out of the treehouse and broke his arm, so his dad stopped building it, but it's mostly finished anyway, so we still go there sometimes. We don't know what kind of club we want yet. Steven caught a frog and we were going to keep him like a mascot, but Billy said we should let him go since it's getting cold and there's no heat in the treehouse, so we took him back to the creek.

Mom is still talking about taking me out of school, but she hasn't yet. She's too tired to I think. She sleeps a lot, more than before. She drives me to school every morning, and Justin's mom drives me home. Sometimes I don't see Mom until the next morning. Is she really sick, Dad? I thought she was getting better but lately she seems really bad again. What's going to happen if something happens to her? Is she going to get better?

I wish you were here, Dad. I'm ok living with Mom, but I miss hanging out with you. I know you're trying to get better though. I believe you.

I saw Amy the other day. She came to my school to talk to me. She thought I might know where you are and wanted to know if I'd talked to you lately. I told her I didn't know that that I hadn't talked to you. Is that okay? She seemed really worried, but I think this is a secret, right?

I sent you a picture of us, too. In case you wanted one.

Can you tell me more about where you're staying?

Love,

Adam

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-10-08 14:37 EST
Amy,

I'm fine. More or less. I figure I should probably get that out of the way first, right?

You wouldn't even believe me if I told you where I am, so I'm not even going to get into it. But I can tell you that I can't come back to Vancouver right now, and not any time soon. I'm not in trouble or anything, it isn't like that, so don't send a search party, call off the hunt. I'm just sort of stuck here, and I'm the only one that can do anything about it.

I heard you talked to Adam. I'm sure you could tell that he was lying to you about not having talked to me. It's a really complicated situation, and he doesn't want Ella to find out. If she finds out we're writing, things will get even worse for him at home. She's talking about pulling him out of school, and he has to sneak out of the house to spend time with his friends. She's still using, and it sounds like worse than before. I think if she knew I was still talking to him, she'd lose it -- do something drastic with him, OD, I don't know what, and I hope we never find out.

Can you keep an eye on Adam for me? I guess Ella, too.

I hope you're well. Sorry to leave like I did. It isn't something I wanted to do.

Stay safe.

Ben

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-10-14 00:20 EST
Dear Adam,

Thanks for the picture! It's one of my favorites of us, did you know that? We had so much fun at that game.

I've been thinking about you during your games. Still going well? Still in it for baseball? When do you start practice for indoor soccer?

It was smart of you to think you shouldn't tell anybody that I'm writing. It probably will be easier if nobody knows. But -- I wrote Amy a letter too. I trust her. You can trust her too, Adam. She's been a great partner to me. She's a good friend. I asked her to keep an eye on you and on your mom, so if anything happens, you can call her, alright? If something happens to Mom, or if you're having a hard time with her, just let Amy know. I know she'll do everything she can for you.

You're right, Adam -- your mom is really sick. But she loves you a lot. Remember that.

I can tell you a little about where I am. A lot of it you wouldn't believe me, but maybe you can see some of it yourself if you visit someday. You'll understand what I mean then. But there's people from all over here -- all over the world, all different kinds of people. I'm living in a small city right now, but there's a lot of open space here too. Jackie's house has a wooded area just past the backyard. Another friend of mine lives right on a lake. Sounds like Vancouver, doesn't it? It's sunnier here, though.

I've got my own apartment in town. There's a library I spend a lot of time at, restaurants, coffee places. It's not very different from where you are. In fact, I just found out that I can probably get Nucks games on television, so we can talk about that if the season ever starts! We looked so good this year, too, so I hope they get it together soon!

It means a lot to me when you say you believe me, that I'm going to get better. I'm still working really hard, Adam. Jackie's helping me a lot still, and another one of my friends is really, really helping. She's a doctor, and she knows a lot about what's wrong with me, and I'm trying my best to trust her, work with her and do what she asks so that I can get better. I still don't know how long it's going to take, but this is the best I've ever felt about getting better, Adam. I hope that means something to you.

I wish I was there with you, too. I miss you.

Love,

Dad

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-10-22 00:57 EST
Postmarked from Vancouver, BC, October 16, 2012

Dad,

Thanks for telling me a little about where you are. It does sound a lot like Vancouver. Is it someplace far, or are you still somewhere around here and just can't come to see me? If it's that, do you think you could sneak out too? We both could. If I can do it, so can you.

Baseball just ended. We made it to playoffs but got knocked out right before the finals. Soccer starts the first week of November. Did you want that schedule too? I can send it soon, but I don't have one for myself yet.

Amy came to see me again. She said she got a letter from you too, and she told me she was going to keep an eye on me and make sure everything is okay. Should I be worrying that much about Mom? Is something going to happen to her?

Things are the same at home. Do you think it would be bad if I asked her if I could stay at Justin's sometimes? But I don't think she'd let me anyway.

I'm glad you feel good about getting better, Dad. It does mean something to me. I just hope it works and you get better soon. I really miss you. I wish I could come stay with you. Do you think I could?

Love,

Adam

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-10-29 19:17 EST
Dear Adam,

I definitely want one of your soccer schedules for the winter. Send me a copy as soon as you can. I want to cheer you on.

I think if you want to stay at Justin's sometimes, then you should ask your mother. I know it has to be really hard to not be able to do what you want, and sometimes it must seem really unfair, but you've got to do what she says, son. I'm sorry.

Your mother is doing what she can to get better too, Adam. I don't know what's going to happen, I really don't. I wish I could tell you that she's going to get better, but I don't know that. Just remember that she loves you a lot, and she's doing everything she can. She just really wants you safe, son. Even if sometimes she goes a little overboard.

I'm not anywhere close, Adam. It isn't like that. If it was, if I could get to you just by sneaking out, I would've done it months ago, promise. I really am stuck here.

I wish you could stay with me, Adam, I really do. but you can't. I don't even know how you could get to where I am right now, short of flying to Georgia and coming back with Jackie, and there's no way your mom would allow that. I wish there was some way, you know I do. Maybe when you're a little older, your mom will let you visit.

I miss you like hell, Adam. I think about you every day. I love you very, very much. Don't ever forget that.

Dad

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-11-08 08:28 EST
Postmarked from Vancouver, BC, October 30, 2012

Dad,

Happy Birthday! I don't know if you'll get this letter before then, but I hope you do.

I saved up money from my allowance to buy tickets for us to a Canucks game, but I don't know if there are going to be any this season! So I'll have to get you something else. I did send a couple of pictures. One is from school.

Mom said I couldn't stay at Justin's. I know that she's only saying that because she's worried, but what is she so worried about? Don't other kids that come home have a regular life after? It really sucks. I know you said it's because she cares, but that doesn't make me feel any better when I can't see my friends after school or on the weekends.

Are you sure I can't come stay with you? Maybe I could buy a plane ticket with the money I have saved. That would be an even better birthday present, right?

I sent a copy of my winter schedule. I don't know if I'm going to keep going, though. Some of the other kids make fun of me since Mom gets really into it. Not in a cool way either. She keeps getting upset saying that the other kids are trying to hurt me, but they aren't. She just thinks that. I don't want to stop playing, but it's not fun when she does that.

How are you doing? Are you getting better?

Love,

Adam

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-11-12 12:46 EST
Dear Adam,

You don't have to worry about getting me anything for my birthday. I get letters from you twice a month, and that's a present every time. Thank you for the pictures. It's nice to be able to show my friends what you look like.

As much as I would really love it if you could stay with me, I can't let you do that, Adam. You know that I was fighting really hard to get custody of you, remember that? But since I can't leave where I am, I couldn't keep fighting. I couldn't go to court. So it isn't that easy, for you to just come and visit or come stay with you, even as much as I wish you could. Your mother would have to say it's alright, or I could get in a lot of trouble, even if I just let you stay with me for a day. I'm sorry. I wish it wasn't like this.

I'm sorry you're having a hard time at soccer. Maybe your coach can talk to Mom about it? Maybe it'll help to hear it from him that the other kids are just playing too and aren't trying to hurt you. I'm sorry she's not letting you see your friends, either. Maybe you can tell Amy about it -- maybe she can talk to your friends' parents and they can come over at least. I hope that helps a little.

I am getting better. It's hard, and it's slow, but I promise you, I'm doing everything I can. I don't like being sick like this either, even when I was still home with you. But I'm getting better. I promise, I'll figure it out.

How is school going? Haven't heard much about that lately.

I love you a lot. Miss you every day.

Love,

Dad

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-11-18 17:27 EST
Postmarked from Vancouver, BC, November 14, 2012

Dad,

I do remember all of that custody fighting. But I thought I would still be able to visit? If you were living here, wouldn't I be able to?

Coach talked to Mom about what she was saying, and she pulled me off the team. I told her not to. We got in a big fight about it.

Sometimes I think about running away, Dad. If I run away, then how can you get in trouble? It's not like you took me away from her or something. I'm old enough to know that what she's doing isn't fair. The other kids don't have to deal with stuff like this.

School is okay. My grades aren't very good. Mom is saying she's going to homeschool me again, maybe after Christmas. But Dad, I'd never leave if that happened. I'd never see my friends, ever. And I don't want to be around her all the time.

You keep saying you're getting better, but what are you doing? How are you getting better? Why can't you come back? I'm old enough, Dad. You should tell me. I'm not a kid anymore.

Adam

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-11-21 10:13 EST
Dear Adam,

You're right, you aren't just a kid anymore. I'm sorry if I've been treating you like one or if it seems like I've been hiding things from you. If it does seem that way, it's just because they're hard for me to talk about, not because I don't think you can handle them.

I can't come home because the place I am isn't somewhere you can get to by normal travel. It's hard to explain without sounding like I'm crazy, so will you trust me on this? You have to go through a portal to get here, like something out of a scifi movie. Really. That's why I've been so vague about it, because even "I'm in a mental institution" would sound more sane, wouldn't it?

The thing is, Adam, in order to use these portals, you need to know where you want to go. You know that I know where I want to go, but the other ones, they don't. They don't want to go back, or maybe they want to stay here? I just know that we aren't all on the same page, and that it can be very dangerous for me to try to go back -- I could end up somewhere else, somewhere worse, maybe with no way out. At least this way, there is a way, but I just need to get better before I can use it.

I tried once already. You should know that. I knew it was dangerous, but I want to get back home to you so badly that I still tried. I didn't get home (you know that) and I didn't get anywhere bad, but I just came right back out. It really doesn't work for me. I really am stuck here.

You wanted to know what I'm doing to get better, too. I'm seeing a therapist a couple of times a month. I'm doing a lot of work on my own. Sometimes they'll write to me. Lately I've been trying something I read about, talking to them inside -- it's hard to explain, but it's almost like a daydream that I can't control all the pieces of. I'm working on getting to know them better. Some people that are sick like this, they're able to be there at the same time that someone else is -- maybe not in control, but at least able to see what's going on instead of a blackout. I've read that some people can even share control, eventually.

I'm sorry if this all sounds weird and sort of scary. But I know you've seen it happen to me before, how I can be when I black out, so I think you'll understand. I hope you do.

The reason you can't just run away and come to be with me is that I'd have to send you back to your mom's as soon as you got here. I can't just pretend like I don't know you're supposed to be with her. I'm sorry. I wish I could.

I'm sorry she pulled you out of soccer and that she's talking about homeschooling again. Can you talk to Amy about it? Maybe she can talk to Mom and talk a little sense into her.

I know it's hard, but try not to think about running away anymore. I want you to stay safe, son. There's a lot of ways you could get hurt if you were on your own. I know you're not a little kid anymore, but you're not grown up yet either.

I wish there was more I could do. I'm sorry that there isn't. Promise you, I'm working as hard as I can to keep getting better -- to get everyone working together so I can get home to you.

Miss you every day. I love you very, very much.

Dad

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-12-03 00:17 EST
Dear Adam,

I know I'm sending this out before I usually do -- I haven't read the last letter you sent me yet -- but I just wanted to send you a quick note to tell you that things are looking really good for me. I worked really, really hard last week and did some things I didn't know I could do. I don't know if I'm really better or if this is just a temporary thing, but I'm doing a lot better for now. These are really, really big steps, Adam. I don't know if this means I'll be able to come home soon, but there's at least a light at the end of the tunnel now.

I hope things have gotten a little better at home. Looking forward to reading your letter a few hours after I send this note off with Jackie.

What did you want for Christmas? Maybe I can send you something.

Thinking I might be closer to getting home makes me miss you even more, son.

Love,

Dad

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-12-03 09:42 EST
Postmarked frm Vancouver, BC, November 27, 2012

Dad,

I don't know what to think about all that. Are you telling me the truth?

I think if I tell Amy anything, Mom will just get mad. She doesn't like Amy since you two were friends.

What am I supposed to do, Dad? There has to be some way I can come live with you, even if I'm not supposed to because of the custody stuff.

I'm glad you're getting better, and I believe you when you say you're working as hard as you can, but I don't know how much longer I can stay with Mom. It's just really hard.

Adam

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-12-11 23:03 EST
December 8, 2012

Dear Adam,

I'm telling you the truth. I've never lied to you about this. I wouldn't. Not after all that's happened. I said that we could figure it out together, and I mean that.

I don't know what to tell you that I didn't in my last letter. I'm sorry, Adam. I'm really, really sorry.

Maybe Christmas. Maybe I can see you on Christmas. Maybe we can figure it out. I want to. I'm doing what I can. I'm praying that I can see you. If I got one thing for Christmas, that would be all I wanted.

Love,

Dad

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-12-18 09:19 EST
December 15, 2012

Adam,

I'm sending you Jackie's phone number. Just in case. I think it's something you should have.

I love you very much. Always remember that.

Dad

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2012-12-18 09:27 EST
Postmarked Vancouver, BC, December 11, 2012

Dad,

Maybe Christmas? Ok.

I believe you. I want to figure it out too.

I miss you, Dad.

Adam

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-01-24 00:07 EST
http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/69967862/id/n8GGMTfmSWeIh-XyTt2LUw/size/y.jpg

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2013-09-20 00:05 EST
Ella,

I'm not sure if this letter will get to you. If I could, I'd travel to Earth, to Georgia at least, so I could at least put this in a normal mailbox and I know it'd get to you -- but if I could do that, I could do other things, too. I could ask Jackie to go, to send it to you, but it doesn't feel right, to ask her to do that.

It's been a year, to the day, since I signed the divorce papers. When I did it, I was furious with you. I was sick. You'd given Jackie notes from DiSilvio, threatened that I'd never see Adam again because of the way I am. I was so angry -- hurt, Ella. I was so hurt, that you'd turn on me like that.

I'm not angry now. I'm still hurt, but only for you, now. You put up with a lot for a long, long time. Hindsight, I can't blame you for making those threats. I don't blame you.

It's been a year. I don't want things to go back to the way they were, but I can remember the good things now, and they don't hurt. They're just good. Parts of us were good together. It's nice to be able to finally remember that.

Adam says you're doing a lot better. I'm happy for you. I want you to be well. Maybe you really can now, with me gone -- without me holding you back.

Call me sometime? Adam says you're better, but I want to hear it from you. I want to catch up some. If you can. If you're able to. But put yourself first, Ella. You can do that now. I want you to. I'd like to be able to talk again, to build some kind of friendship, but only if you can stay healthy while doing it. That's what I want even more.

Love,

Ben

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2014-02-18 00:05 EST
Ella,

I'm sorry I haven't told you this sooner. Not that you don't know, because I'm sure Adam's told you -- but part of me thinks you should've heard it from me first.

Jackie had our baby. Almost a month ago now -- a beautiful little girl, Lillian Lavande Sullivan. Makes Adam a big brother, and you'd be proud of him, Ella. He loves her so much. It even gets him to drop the sullen teenager act most of the time.

I'm not sending pictures, because I don't know if you'd want them -- would you? If you do, I can, and I will. She has my eyes -- like Adam. They look alike already.

How have you been doing? Adam never mentions what you two talk about -- not that I need to know, or should know, but I just want to know if you're okay -- or if you aren't. I care about you, you know that.

One of these days, maybe you could come here to visit. It would be nice for you to meet Adam's friends here, see my office, our home. Lily. I'm not sure how to get here reliably other than by using the portal in Georgia, though, and I don't think Jackie would appreciate if I asked her to show you. And now that I think about it, you might not appreciate her being your travel guide, too. One of these days, maybe.

I hope you're doing well, Ella. You can call me or write me, any time.

Love,

Ben

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2015-05-08 04:16 EST
Friday, May 8th, 2015 -- pre-dawn

Text to Jackie: I'm not coming home tonight.
Text to Jackie: Today. You know what I mean.
Text to Jackie: I'm safe. At the apartment.
Text to Jackie: Just need a little space. For your sake. Promise.
Text to Jackie: Love you, sunshine.
Text to Jackie: Be home today, as soon as I can.

As soon as he could. Ben laughed, something helpless in it, and tossed his phone onto the coffee table, letting the momentum double him over so he ended seated on the couch with his head in his hands.

It was getting worse. Drinking hadn't become a constant, not yet, but that it happened at all these days was a problem. That it happened to excess - and on purpose, to dull the noisiness in his head, was worse.

He thought of Ella, then -- Christmas morning, years and years ago, threatening to file for divorce while he was hugging the toilet. He'd been sober ever since (Ben had been), until coming to Rhydin. Until things got bad again.

They got bad, they got better, they got worse - in creeping ways, in ways Ben couldn't pin down. Not the usual lose a few hours here, half a day there. Not the usual triggers, the ones he's started to piece together, last memories before being thrown in the trunk of his own consciousness.

A minute here, a few seconds there. At home, where everything should be safe, supportive.

And no one mentioned a thing.

Ben didn't know what to make of it, so he didn't. What he did do was numb himself when he could, dull his senses - quiet things on the inside, armor himself on the outside.

Over time, Ben's realized that his disorder is a way to cope with things he wasn't able to as a child, still might not be able to deal with as an adult. It wasn't all bad. Ben knew that.

But when it got to be too much, when he tried to drown them with drink-- Well, that was coping too. Just as destructive, if in other ways.

It was funny. Almost. Enough to make him laugh, covering his face with his elbows on his knees -- the kind of laugh that's to keep from crying.

Ben can't get inside himself while drunk. He can't even begin to try; every time he closes his eyes, the room starts spinning too violently to think about anything else.

So instead, he writes.

I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want her to lie for me anymore. How many times has she had to? For my sake?

This is me - it's us. Okay. It's us. But it's not right to pull her into it too. Al I want is to do the right thing, and I know she said she was here for me, no matter what - and I believe her, I do--

What do I have to do for quiet again? That's what I want. Quiet. I don't need

I need

I'm here for now. All I want is to be here while I'm here. To be her husband - be their father. To be theirs. Not--

Please. Can't work together if I do this so I can function. Can't work with you if I need to shut you up. Please.

Unsteadily, Ben got to his feet, made his way down the hall to the bedroom, added the letter to the wild collection of notes and sketches that already papered the room. It's been years since he's gotten a written response. It's the best of too many bad choices.

The bedroom felt claustrophobic, and the couch held too many memories. It's just as well - the bathroom floor had never been a more miserably inviting place to curl up for the night.

Ben Sullivan

Date: 2015-05-17 13:49 EST
A late morning trip to his apartment after church with his family (all seven of them - Jackie, his children, Hayley, at the small congregation Jackie had started bringing him to years ago) came with discovery of a note scrawled left-hand on a piece of paper on the kitchen counter.

what exactly are you asking for?

quiet sounds like you want us to go away. you need us. he needs us. if anything, he might not miss you.

ask a real question, you might get a better answer.

but don't talk about her. no discussion.

Ben crumpled the paper in a fist, then sighed out his frustration, his anger, his tension. Smoothing out the note against the surface of the counter, he read it one more time before taking it to the bedroom, taping it up beside the letter he'd written a week ago.

Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he re-read both of them in silence, debating writing back.

Instead, he left the note unanswered, left the apartment to go back home to his family.