When Things Go Awry

"I'm drowning here, Dad, I'm going under and I can't get back to shore. I can't, I can't make it, Dad, I can't do this without you, you gotta help me, you gotta throw me a line here." Zach is pleading, eyes watery, lip quivering, hands shaking. Jake is helpless when his eldest son gets like this: frantic, desperate, anxiety ridden and manic. It's four am and Jake is struggling to stay awake, let alone stand up. "Come on, Zach, calm down. Why don't you crash in your old room and we'll talk about it in the  morning. Your mom and brothers are asleep- Arnold wakes up for practice in two hours Zach, you gotta lemme get some rest or I'll be useless to everyone."  Zach paces, like a caged animal, shaking his hands like he's trying to rid himself of imaginary water. Two months he lasted this time. A good facility, showed signs of progress even; the phone calls were more managed, the family visits controlled, civilized. Jake liked his son's case worker- honest, affable, resilient and a solid mix of empathetic and hard as nails, a no bullshit kinda guy. Zack seemed to relate well to him so this backslide is unexpected, disappointing. Irritating. Jake knows he shouldn't feel this deep seeded frustration and anger towards his boy but everyone has a point, a line, that level of tolerance before the levee breaks and tempers overflow, drowning compassion and patience in exhaustion and vitriol. Zach starts to keen and wail, softly at first then louder, like a wounded dog. He raises his closed fist to his temple and starts to tap, gently at first then more forcefully, with violence. "Zach- hey, hey Zach, listen to me, listen to me-" Jake grabs his sons arms, controlling them, pulling them down to his sides, holding them in place. He makes sure there is eye contact then starts the breathing game, while slowly, gently easing Zach onto the couch, quieting the boy's sounds. "Ok son, you're ok, everything's going to be fine. We're going to keep breathing here, ok? We're going to count as we do, then you tell me what's on your mind, ok son? Big breath in, and count with me..." Jake lifts his head up, his chin towards the ceiling, opening his mouth wide. Zach starts to release. Jake silently unfurls Zach's fingers, like the day he was born.  Ten fingers, ten toes. Their perfect little boy.

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