Before We Turn to Stone

Season 16, Episode 22: Say Something Loving

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
I don't know what this is, but it doesn't feel wrong.
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
I don't know what this is, but it doesn't feel wrong."

* * *

They don't fight in earnest until they get back to the hotel. They're adults, after all; they have the composure not to throw down in the middle of a hospital lobby. So when the incredulity and anger ebb enough that he can form sentences again, Alex motions for Jo to follow him into the parking lot. He gets into his rental and Jo gets into hers and she follows him back to the hotel.

As they head for the elevator, she tries to speak to him once. It's all Alex can do to hold up a single finger in response: just wait.

He opens the door quietly, even gingerly, like there's a sleeping baby in the next room. He lets Jo enter before him then closes the door behind them. Jo perches on the bed, her face turned up to his expectantly.

"Alex—"

But he's not ready yet. He holds up one finger again, pulls a bottle of water out of the mini fridge. He quickly reconsiders and pulls out the fifth of bourbon he's been nursing on his long nights trying to diagnose Richard. He tosses Jo the bottle of water, then finds hotel-issued paper cup and pours himself three fingers of bourbon.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low. Matter-of-fact.

"You just called my children a distraction."

Jo presses her fingers hard into her eyes. "Can we just – that's what you're mad about? My choice of words?" she demands.

"You feel... distracted by the fact that I'm trying to do what's right for my kids. By the fact that I am trying to make it so I can be in their lives. It's making it hard for you to focus on things that you need to get done."

She stands up and reaches out to grab his hand, but Alex takes a step and a half back from her. He starts to pace up and down the length of the hotel room. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"You know that's not what I meant. You know I think the twins are wonderful. That's not what this is about."

"But you said it."

All at once he's six, sitting on the floor in his parents' bedroom. Last week Helen buried herself in her comforter, pulled it all the way up to her chin; she hasn't left her bed since. Whenever Alex enters her room, he finds her counting in a low, steady voice.

Today he asks her to help him get the cereal down from the shelf; it's been a few days since anyone has given him anything to eat.

"Go away. Go away! Damn it, damn it, Alex." She starts crying. "You interr—now I can't—I have to start all over again!" She pushes up on her elbows and glares at him. "Just go away and STOP DISTRACTING ME."

He comes back to himself when he realizes Jo is speaking to him.

"Your kids aren't a distraction. But this—" She sweeps a hand through the air to indicate the entire situation. "The ex-wife and the family you never knew about and trying to take all that mess and turn it into some picture-perfect family in freakin' Kansas, yes, Alex, that's distracting. How could it not be? It's a huge thing. It's eating up all my attention and focus and my sleep."

He keeps pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. It's the only thing keeping the scream building in his chest from escaping.

"So what?" he asks when he can speak without shouting. "You want us to stay in Seattle. Take the kids for two weeks every summer? Maybe a month? Send them cards and call them on FaceTime for the rest of the year, like I'm some weirdo relative they've only met twice and not their dad? So you can get your focus back?"