Slate | ✓

TWENTY-ONE | ATHENA

"Athena, let me speak," he cuts me off. "I'm not going to do this anymore." The look he gives me says what are you trying to do? I don't have a response.

I can practically see the gears turning in Victor's head. He shoots a hurried look between Annie and Charlie, like he's being dragged in different directions. "I— I understand."

John is relentless. "When it was Mom, you ignored it. When it was Charlie, you ignored it. So is that the plan here? Third time's a charm? What are you going to do?"

"Is he coming home?" Victor asks, dodging the question.

"No. Will said that he won't come back because he doesn't trust Charlie." John waves a hand to where Charlie stands, but his eyes do not waver from our father. "He didn't have to say it, but I guess that means he doesn't really trust you a whole lot either. Then I thought about it some more, and I realized that I don't think any of us do."

This is a lot... Even with all the crap I told Victor just yesterday, this is a lot— especially coming from John. He's not speaking from anger, but with purpose. Is he trying to hurt Dad? Or is this like a justice thing? Cause John's just exposing the cracks we all knew were there anyways. 

"You know, Athena and I lied to you on Monday." John drags my name down with him. "Will didn't have a headache. He started hyperventilating in the guidance counselor's office." John addresses me, and the second his stormy eyes land on mine, I wish he'd turn back to Victor: "I realize we have a thing that we do, you and I."

"Yeah?" I force myself to stare back at him. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

"We try to contain things. Minimize. We count on Will to act fine so it's easier for the two of us, even when we know he isn't. It's fucked up."

It's easy for me to admit that I would rather not see the ugly parts. I don't want Will to show me his every vulnerability on a silver platter. We don't have that relationship anymore; I'm there for him in the ways I know how to be. I can't do what John's asking of me.

Maybe if I shut the fuck up about myself for two seconds and actually try to listen to him...  It's the same advice I gave Charlie, but I also don't deny being a massive fucking hypocrite. Is listening ever really enough? If Will's speaking to anyone, it should be to John— not me. I can't imagine I have anything to offer him. I've made my peace with the fact that Will would never let me in.

"If Will isn't fine, that's all he has to say," I reply. "I've said that from the beginning. He chooses not to. I'm not his babysitter."

"You really can't see how that's not so easy for him?" John asks. "I'm not saying that Will doesn't need to make his own decisions. I'm saying we've made him feel like he doesn't have any options to choose from."

"Speaking isn't that fucking difficult," I gesture between the two of us. "Look, we're doing it right now." I don't understand what he means by options. Will either gets better or he doesn't, what else is there?

"This is arguing."

"Is there a difference?"

John grows frustrated with me, and when his gaze turns back to Victor, I'm relieved. "Athena won't let anyone speak for her, fine, I won't try. I can speak for myself, at least." John pauses, and his next words are deliberate and careful. "Dad, on some level, I'm trying to protect Will from you. You've never let us in— not once."

Charlie broke my heart. My father's words swim back to me. They sound more pathetic the second time.

John continues, "I just want you to know that we're all right in front of you, and that you've been missing from this house as much as Mom or Charlie ever have. I understand it's not easy," John's voice wavers. "But don't wait until your children can only resent you. That's how you get stuck in your own head."