Premature Metamorphosis

Chapter 8

"He's not been sleeping well," Caleb mentioned, "And it started around the time we started to notice something was off. Could that have something to do with it?"

The teacher turned her attention to Caleb with a look of slight curiosity. "Do you know what's affecting his sleep?"

"It seems like nightmares," Evelyn commented, remembering all the times now that she'd been awoken to a panicked, confused Hunter who barely seemed to have any clue where he actually was, mumbling things that didn't make sense. "He's also become anxious about the idea of sleeping in his own room. Even if one of us offers to stay with him, he still refuses."

"Has something happened recently that could have been traumatic for him?"

The question nearly made Evelyn jolt. It felt as if that little voice in the back of her mind that had been nagging her for months, producing all the worst possibilities, had now been given some proper credibility. Had now been made real.

Up until the sudden change, life had been as normal as it had ever been. There were no big traumatic events or even just something small that could have scared him. There'd been nothing unusual.

And then he'd gone to stay at Philip's. Then he'd become clingy and anxious, then he'd started wetting the bed and having nightmares. Then he'd come back with bruises that he'd kept a secret until Evelyn had found them herself.

That first visit to Philip's house seemed to be the centrepiece that all of this inevitably led back to and so far, she'd only been able to label her worry as a hunch.

Now that she stood back and looked at the whole picture, there was a big, red, blaring answer being shoved right in her face.

"No," Caleb's voice cut through her revelation, "There's nothing I can think of. He just began acting weirdly out of nowhere."

Evelyn just stared at him, a strange numb feeling taking over as she heard what her husband was saying, so blissfully unaware.

"Maybe it would be beneficial to consider therapy as an option." The teacher suggested, "He might just be going through a rough patch, or maybe something really has happened that he isn't telling anyone about. Either way, I think that having a professional there to listen to him and help him work through those feelings may be of help."

The thought of her six-year-old having to see a therapist made Evelyn's stomach sink. Not because she was opposed to people getting help, if this was something that would benefit him in any way then she was all for it, maybe this could actually be a solution that would get him to admit what had started all this, what Philip had done. No, it made her feel this way because things had gotten to the point where the best option was therapy.

She was so useless in helping him that she had to hand him over to someone else instead.

Still, if it was what would be best for him...

"We'll look into it." She decided.

"So, what do you think about the therapy idea?" Caleb asked, later that night while they cleaned up the kitchen after yet another dinner where most of Hunter's food remained on the plate.

Evelyn shrugged with a small sigh, trying to find the best way to put her thoughts into words. "I mean, if it's something that's going to help him, even if it only works a little, it's a little more than what we've got right now. I think it's worth a try. What are your thoughts?"

He began picking at the threads of the cloth he'd been using to wipe the counter so he didn't have to look her in the eye. "I don't know... I just— I've always thought therapy was for people who were suicidal."

"It can be, but not exclusively. Some people go just to work on ways to improve their lives or do things that they couldn't before. It's for anyone who thinks it could benefit them, really." She explained.

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. "I didn't mean to be offensive, by the way."

"I know you didn't."

"Yeah."

Silence settled over the room for a while, only being broken by the sounds of the dishes thunking together in the sink as Evelyn washed them.

"I just—" Caleb began. Evelyn waited for him to continue but he just sighed, silently considering his words before he tried again. "What if there's nothing wrong and it turns out he's just... got some big emotions?"

"Well, even if it is just big emotions, they're big emotions that are causing him a lot of trouble. Plus, there's always the possibility that it's something more than that. And if it is, we don't want to keep missing it and leaving him to struggle alone, do we?"

Caleb took her words in and really sat with them for a while before he gave her a reply. "Do you think it could help him?"

"I think it's worth a try if there's a chance it could."

He nodded. "Okay. I think it is too."

At around two in the morning, Evelyn found herself on the living room couch, some random show warbling on in the background as she looked at her son — really looked at him — and turned over that thought from earlier over and over again in her mind, looking for something in his absent gaze that wasn't really taking in anything from the TV, the way he had his hands wrapped around himself as if ready to rip into his own skin with his nails, or even the way he squeezed the little red cardinal tight under his arm, allowing it to stare right back at Evelyn, urging her to start questioning.

So she did.

"What was your nightmare about?"

His gaze flickered down to stare at the carpet. He paused.

"Don't remember..."

She chewed at the inside of her cheek.

"Are you sure?"

He paused again.

He nodded.

"What happened at Philip's house?"

The words passed her lips before she really had time to think them through.

He startled at that, finally looking her in the eye.

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

He didn't pause this time. He nodded immediately.

Tears threatened her eyes with their stings.

"Hunter... You can tell me anything. Remember?"

"I know."

"Then why won't you?"

There was a helpless look in his eye. He opened his mouth to speak and Evelyn waited patiently but nothing came out.

She couldn't help the tear that rolled down her cheek.

"If I've done something that's made you feel like you can't come and speak to me, then I am so sorry. But, I can tell you now that whatever it is, whatever's been bothering you, I won't judge you for it. I won't hate you or think less of you, I won't get angry, even if it's something really bad. If you tell me what it is, then I can help and we can fix it together. I just want to see you happy again..."

Tears seemed to be pooling in his own eyes.

"It's nothing, Mom..."

"Then I want you to promise me. Promise me that it is really nothing. Promise me that you'll come to me if it ever is something. Just promise me that if it is something, you'll tell me when you're ready."

He looked back down at the carpet.

"Promise..."