Chapter Five: Rising Fury

                                        

                                              
When I picked up my children, I didn't cry. Not when Alice ran into my arms. Not when Lola squealed and tugged at my shirt. Not even when Jimmy, quiet and unreadable, got in the car without a word. I just buckled everyone in, started the engine, and drove us home.
The driveway already had Thomas's car in it. That hadn't happened in... God, how long? Months? Maybe longer.
Inside, he was setting the table with takeout containers lined up neatly—Italian. Jimmy's favorite. He looked up when we walked in, hands wiping awkwardly on a dish towel like he was trying to look helpful.
"There you are," he said. "Thought I'd surprise you with dinner."
The smile he wore was familiar and distant—like the kind you give strangers in a waiting room.
Alice squealed and ran to him. Lola kicked her legs in my arms, reaching. I handed her over, and Thomas looked between us all like a man trying to recognize his own reflection.
We ate in awkward silence. Thomas served the plates, filled the water glasses, offered more bread. He tried conversation. A joke. Something about a coworker and an elevator. No one laughed.
Jimmy didn't even glance up from his plate.
I didn't look at Thomas.
After dinner, I started clearing the table, but he gently took Alice from her seat.
"I've got her. I'll get her to bed."
I nodded.
Once Lola was changed and down, I stood outside Jimmy's door for a long time. My hand hovered above the wood before I finally knocked.
"Jimmy?" My voice felt like it echoed.
A pause. Then: "Yeah."
I opened the door slowly. He was lying on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.
"Can I come in?"
He shrugged. "Sure."
I sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping my hands folded in my lap.
"I just wanted to say..." My voice cracked and I took a breath. "I know things haven't been easy. For a while now. And I haven't been the best example."
He didn't look at me, but his brow twitched.
" but I heard you..I see it now...I've stayed quiet about things I should've spoken up about. I've let myself be small. And that taught you something I never meant to teach."
Still no response. But he was listening.
"I've been showing you what it looks like to love someone more than you love yourself. And that's not okay. I see that now."
His jaw shifted. Tension.
"I'm sorry, Jem. Truly. For all of it. But I'm not going to keep living like that. I'm going to fight for me. And for you. And Alice and Lola. For the love we all deserve."
My voice shook at the end. I reached over and brushed the hair off his forehead. He didn't move away.
"I love you more than I know how to say."
For a long time, silence. Then, just as I stood up, his voice came—quiet, rough.
"I love you too Mom."
I froze.
"I just want you to love yourself," he added, barely a whisper.
I bit down a sob and nodded, kissing his forehead.