by Megan Walker
Jenna pulls closer to me, and I feel like I’m finally getting some of this right. I hold her tight, and I speak softly in her ear. “But then I met you. I was lost and alone and trying so hard not to fall back into the darkness. I only knew that I couldn’t go back to the drugs, but I had no idea what to do with my life and I was scared shitless, you know?”
Jenna nods against my chest, and I take a deep breath. “And then I met you. And you offered me a job that I love, and then you made me a husband, and a father. You gave me a place not just to live, but to belong. You and Ty—you needed me, and I needed you right back, and then we had Rachel—” My breath catches. “And as far as I’m concerned, the three of you are the best things that could ever have happened to me. And yeah, sometimes it’s hard, and we struggle, and I think both of us living through undiagnosed depression has been no small part of that. But there is nothing in the world I want more than to keep pushing through it with you, because I love you more than I ever thought was possible. More than when I married you. More and more every day.”
Jenna sniffles, but she holds on tight. “Really? Still?”
“Always,” I say. “I need you to be exactly who you are. Not some fixed, happy version of you. We’re soul mates, Jenna. And everything we’ve been through has shaped us into the exact right people at the exact right time, scars and all. And struggling through it with you, even when it’s hard, it’s making me stronger and wiser and happier. And not in spite of the hard stuff. Because of it.”
Jenna lifts her head and looks me in the eyes. Her hand runs down the side of my face and I turn and kiss her wrist.
“That’s what I mean when I say I love you, when I say you give me everything. I mean it all just as you are.”
“I love you like that, too,” she says. And I hold her tight, and I hope that she’s feeling how much I mean it, because I’ve never been so earnest in all of my life.
“We’re going to get through this,” I say. “Just stick with me. You’re going to get to be the person you want to be. But first we need to get you some help.”
“Okay,” Jenna says. “Okay.”
As we hold each other, all I can think is that everything about me and her feels like a miracle, and I know it always will.
Forty
Jenna
Six Months Later
The hotel ballroom looks exactly like the amazing, cheesy prom I always imagined—and secretly wished I could have gone to. There are strings of twinkling lights and bunches of metallic-colored balloons bobbing on the ceiling above people in suits and tuxes and prom dresses both puffy and slinky. There’s a table with punch bowls and slices of cake, a photographer set up taking pictures of smiling couples, and a DJ playing music from the stage set up near the back.
The main difference, I suppose, is that pretty much none of the attendees of this prom are in high school. It’s my friends and family. We went to the temple last week, Felix and Ty and Rachel and I, and were sealed together as a family, forever. And even though most of the people here aren’t members of our church—though we have a good number of church friends here as well—they still came to celebrate with us, because they love us.
And knowing that makes this more perfect than any real prom could ever be.
Of course, I think, looking at my gorgeous, tux-clad husband, who is next to me bouncing Rachel in his arms to the beat of the music and grinning, I also have the best prom date ever.
Ty bounces beside us, doing this arm-flailing dance that never fails to make Rachel laugh, which she does, her giggle audible even above the music.
Make that the best three dates.
“Mind if I cut in?” I ask, and Felix grins at me, then gives me a mock wounded look when I take Rachel from his arms and start bouncing with her. She squeals happily.
“Of course you meant her,” he says, shaking her head. “I’m always being upstaged.”
But he looks really happy about it, and so am I.
Because I am—happy, that is. Happy to hold my little girl in my arms, happy to be here with her and my husband and my son, happy so much more often lately than not.
It’s been almost six months since I ran away from my family—or “had a major depressive episode” as my therapist would rather I call it, because it’s still hard for me to talk about it without judgment. And I still think some judgment is warranted, but I’m working towards forgiving myself for it. Felix and Ty completely forgive me, and I know someday I will too. I’m getting closer.
But between the meds and the therapy, I’m in a totally different place than I was back then. A happier, brighter place. A place that allows me to be imperfect without making me feel like I’m worthless. A place without the destructive voices of my past, or at the very least, a place where I’m figuring out how not to believe them when they do start whispering again.
I’ve got a long way to go, I know. But I’ve already come such a long way in these six months, and besides—I’ve got the best support in the world.
“What’s that look for?” Felix asks, smiling at me. Because I think he knows.
“Just thinking how lucky I am.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” He leans in and kisses me. Which still makes me all fluttery, even with Rachel in my arms, tugging on my hair.
“Ugh, stop, or I’m going to call the PDA police!” Ty announces. It’s his new favorite thing to say every time he’s forced to witness Felix and me kiss. Which we often do just to annoy him. “I mean it, I’m calling them right—oh hey, Axel’s finally here!” He starts jumping up and down and waving his arms. “Axel! Over here!”
“Oh great, and his mom’s here too,” Felix says in a low voice, giving them a wave and a fake smile.
“Well, probably better than him taking Uber, right?” I ask, and Felix laughs.
Axel spots us and grins, bounding over toward us—or really, toward Ty, who he has designated as his best friend, even though Ty has no problem telling him when he’s being rude or too demanding. Axel’s mom also spots us, and looks considerably less enthused. She doesn’t wave back, staying by the doorway. Apparently Felix yelled at her the night he found me at the bar, and she’s not seeming inclined to forgive him. But since Axel wants to play with Ty and she’s not about to deny Axel anything he wants, she’s stuck with seeing us on occasion and being reminded of that well-deserved rant about her crappy parenting.
Not that I should judge anyone’s parenting, given where I was that night, I still can’t help but immediately think. A reflex.
But it’s easier to fight that thought. Or rather, to acknowledge and then dismiss it. Because I am a good mom. A good mom who made a mistake. A good mom who wasn’t in her right mind.
A good mom who, like good moms everywhere, isn’t perfect. But who loves her kids and gets back up and keeps trying to do the best she can.
“Ty said there would be cake,” Axel says without preamble. “Is there any organic quinoa? I want quinoa too. And cake.”
Felix and I both open our mouths, but as usual, Ty beats us to it. “There’s no quinoa,” he says. “Just cake. And you need to ask nicely. But not for quinoa, because there’s just cake.”
Felix and I fight to hold back our laughter at Ty’s serious, instructive tone.
Axel considers this. “Can I have some cake?” he asks, mostly to Felix. “My nutritionist says I can have refined sugars tonight, even though I’m filming again next month.”
Fortunately for Axel’s career—though whether that career’s ultimately a good thing for Axel, I’m not sure—his short-lived exodus from acting ended up not being the biggest problem with the cello prodigy film, which collapsed due to some production issue. And fortunately for Josh, now that the film is over and Axel is on to other things, Axel has a new agent—one who Josh trusts, but who has more tolerance for working with child stars and their even more difficult parent
s.
“Sure thing, kid,” Felix says. “And you can too,” he adds when he sees Ty’s pleading expression.
The boys dart off to the refreshment table, leaving us on the dance floor with Rachel, who babbles happily at me as she tugs some more on a fistful of my hair. We’re definitely not alone on the dance floor, though—the DJ’s a good one, and most of the people here are up dancing now. Leo and Roxie, Leo wearing what I’m fairly certain is an entire suit made of alligator skin and Roxie in a bright pink pleather mini-dress that matches her hair. Ben and Wyatt, all lovey-looking in matching suits, though Ben is wearing his usual bright green shirt under his. Gabby and Will, laughing their heads off while apparently trying to perform some sort of swing dance move that is likely to get someone hurt. Even Dana and Paul are . . . well, mostly standing on the dance floor, looking vaguely uncomfortable, while their son Ephraim does The Robot—surprisingly well, actually. Is Ephraim in some kind of dance class?
Also, where did Josh and Anna-Marie go?
I’m about to ask Felix both of these questions when I feel a hand on my arm, and turn to see Alec’s wife Jillian, looking gorgeously chic in a glittery black dress, even with this awesomely huge and tacky corsage around her wrist. Next to her is Alec, also pretty gorgeously chic, I must say, in a black suit with a red satin shirt underneath.
“You guys, this is so much fun,” Jillian says with a wide smile. “I never thought I’d want to go back to prom again, but this is prom done right.”
I laugh and hug her, and then she gushes some about how beautiful Rachel is. I adore Jillian, and not just because she’s so good for Alec—though I do love how happy she makes him. “I’m so glad you guys came all the way out here for this,” I say. “I know how busy you are.”
“Yeah, well, we figured if we missed it, we’d end up finding some more big FU marquee letters in our apartment,” Alec says, clapping Felix on the back. “And we still have the first set you guys gifted me.”
We laugh. “Nah,” Felix says, “Those were a one-time only gift. The FU for missing this would have been much smaller. Maybe Christmas ornament size?”
“Oh my god, that’s what I’m getting for Christmas next year, isn’t it?” Alec groans, but he’s still grinning.
“How are your parents doing?” I ask Jillian. “I know you don’t like to leave your mom for long, so I hope this isn’t a problem—”
“Oh no, it’s totally fine,” Jillian says. “My dad loves the assisted care facility we got them into—which, good, because it took forever to convince him, even though he knew he needed the help.” Here, Alec nods firmly. “They take such good care of her, and it lets my dad have a break, even though he’s still able to live with her. But since it’s in New York near us, we still get to see her all the time.” There’s a note of sadness in her voice. I know how hard it’s been for Jillian, seeing her mom decline to this point, where she doesn’t recognize either Jillian or her own husband anymore, and needs near-constant care. I can’t even imagine how heartbreaking that would be.
But I see the way Alec squeezes her hand, and she looks back up at him, and I know he’s being a great support for her.
“And it’s nice for us to get away from it all and do something fun like this, too,” she says, smiling.
Rachel whines, straining to get out of my arms. I don’t take it personally—at her age, she has a limit on how long she wants to be held by anyone, even me or Felix. “I think this little girl wants to be crawling somewhere,” I say.
“And I think this one needs a refill on her drink,” Alec says, indicating Jillian’s empty champagne flute, to which Jillian nods. In addition to the prom-standard punch bowls, the hotel also has an open bar in the corner for those of our friends and family who want to drink something less suitable for a high school prom. He waves his own near-empty glass. “As do I.”
Alec and Jillian head over to the bar, and Rachel’s whining gets louder. Felix shakes his head. “I think she wants to chase after her brother,” he says. “I’ll go take her over to him and see if the boys can keep an eye on her for a bit.”
He takes Rachel from me, and heads over to the table where Axel and Ty are eating cake. I’m about to follow when I spot Anna-Marie and Josh, who are walking toward the dance floor, laughing at something. I wave over to them.
“Where did you guys run off to?” I ask.
“We needed new photos,” Anna-Marie says. “We got the ‘before’ one, now we needed the ‘after.’” She indicates her gorgeous, slinky silver dress and prom queen crown—Felix and I knew as soon as we decided we were actually going to hold a prom that Josh and Anna-Marie were definitely going to be prom king and queen—which are now covered in red-dyed corn syrup. Along with her hair, shoulders, corsage, hands, and a good amount of Josh, too.
Felix and I also knew that Anna-Marie would love the chance to get to be Carrie at the prom, complete with a bucket of fake pigs’ blood and some pre-rigged “telekinetic explosions” that one of Josh’s industry friends helped set up. And, ever the actress, Anna-Marie was all about putting on a show—which the crowd loved.
“And here I thought maybe you guys had ignored the warning about getting a hotel room at prom,” Felix says, returning from the Rachel hand-off. He’s referring to a sign he had made and posted in front of the room that says, Parents will be notified for anyone caught renting a hotel room. I’d laughed pretty hard at that one.
Josh grins. “Better get ready to call our parents, because we’re planning on it. Got to take advantage of our last few months of alone time.” His smile brightens even more as he looks at Anna-Marie—who still manages to be gorgeous even covered in fake pig blood, and who has a very noticeable bump under that slinky silver dress.
“Good call,” Felix says with a laugh.
“Hey, did she tell you guys yet about the name we decided on?” Josh asks. The excitement in his voice warms my heart. I know that while I was going through the worst of my stuff, Josh was going through the worst of his, as well—not depression, but the culmination of too many years of thinking he needed to be the strong one, of not letting himself need someone to lean on.
But it’s been pretty obvious for a while now that he is really happy and excited to get to be a dad. If the big smile on his face whenever he talks about it isn’t enough to tell, the texts he randomly sends Felix—Okay, I know you guys aren’t geeks like us, but check out this Game of Thrones onesie and It’s a girl! I’m going to have a daughter! Too early for planning matching family Halloween costumes?—are a pretty good indication. I’m sure the stress and fear aren’t totally gone, but they seem to be able to handle it much better, and together.
Anna-Marie gapes a little. “I haven’t!” She grabs my hand, which will undoubtedly turn my skin bright red, but I don’t care. “So we were talking about Harry Potter the other day, and what Ron and Hermione’s best couple name is, that sort of thing”—here I exchange a knowing look with Felix, because of course these two are talking about that— “and Josh suggested Rione, and we were both like oh my god, that’s it! But spelled R-I-O-N-Y, because that’s cuter.” She beams, stroking her belly.
“I love it,” I say, and am surprised to actually mean it. I tend to like more traditional names.
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” Felix agrees. “And we’re really glad Ben and Wyatt showed up. We weren’t sure if they would.”
“They love you guys,” Josh says. Which might be stretching it a bit, given how mad Ben originally was about Josh and Felix’s friendship, but he did seem to get over that as soon as he knew Felix wasn’t replacing him—and as soon as he and Wyatt got to know us. “And yeah, I think they worried about all the church people here, but everyone’s been cool, it seems.”
“Good. We’re so happy for them, too,” I say. We all look over at them, dancing in each other’s arms, their foreheads pressed together. They’re still working through things
, I think, but last I heard, they were looking into foster parenting, because Ben has an easier time picturing himself as a dad of an older kid. And I think that could be a great fit for them both.
“Anyway,” Josh continues, “I think it’s time to get another dance myself with my beautiful, blood-soaked queen,” He adjusts his own bloodied crown. “Shall we?”
And then they’re dancing, holding each other close, and Felix pulls me into his arms, and he and I are dancing too, at the prom I never had. The perfect prom I could only have had with him, anyway.
“You know,” he says, “The kids are pretty well occupied.” He tilts his head over to the side of the room where Axel and Ty have stacked up plastic cups into towers and are laughing hysterically as Rachel crawls around knocking them all down like a puffy-dress-clad baby Godzilla. “We could ask Gabby to keep an eye on them and sneak away for a bit ourselves. And I don’t mean to the photobooth. Though if you’re into that . . .”
I laugh, and kiss him. “We definitely are going to sneak out of prom. But there’s something else I want to do with you first.”
“Yeah?” He looks at his watch. “Is it time yet?”
“It’s our prom, Felix,” I say. “It’s time when we say it is.”
“Can’t argue with that.” He winks at me, and grinning at each other like idiots, we head over to the DJ. While the song on now keeps playing, the DJ helps us carry a keyboard and a couple chairs onto the stage from where they were hidden behind his station, along with Felix’s cello case.
People in the crowd see us setting up and start cheering. We hadn’t told anyone we were going to perform tonight, and I think most people assumed we’d appreciate just being in the audience tonight. But it’s been way too long since Felix and I have performed together—outside of working on the new album, which has been fantastic, but doesn’t exactly count as putting on a show—and I miss it.