Page 62 of My Family

"Take care of yourself. If you need anything, call me. I promise that if I'm home I'll pick up."

"Okay," I say. But I already know I'm not going to call. Every time I've ever tried, it's a disappointment: he's working, or busy with something, and he never picks up. So I've always ended up waiting for him to call me. Which is also rare and always short.

I hang up.

I can't believe I waited over half an hour for that.

My eyes start doing that thing again. I swallow it. Ethan isn't there to comfort me, he's busy with his brother, and I need to stop depending on him. I've never depended on anyone for anything. I grew up alone. It's just harder once you've had a taste of something good. When you don't know what it feels like, you don't miss it as much. But Ethan had given me a taste of what it meant to have someone to lean on, and now I feel like he, or life, is taking that away again, the same way life had taken my mom, the same way my dad had chosen to leave.

I sniffle. Pull myself together. I'm going to blame allergies if anyone looks at me.

I leave the phone room and go back into the hallway.

I walk slowly, my shoes squeaking on the linoleum, thinking.

I have a pretty stupid idea. I figure I'm going to do it anyway.

Jack did it. I can too. I keep repeating that while I walk, and my feet carry me to Griff's office without me entirely planning to go there.

I knock.

I'm not sure he's in. Sometimes he is, sometimes not, the man needs rest too. But this time he says "come in," and I push the door open slowly.

He looks up from his tablet, looks me up and down without smiling, holds that slightly uncomfortable silence he uses on all of us. Just his way of making clear he isn't going to tolerate nonsense. Then:

"Liam. Something wrong?"

I like that he uses my first name. Good sign. When he's in a bad mood it's just a bark, "What is it, Marsal?" Not this time.

"Come in. Sit down. Talk to me."

"My dad called today," I say.

"I know," he says. I nod. I'm always surprised when he remembers something specific about me. First because I'm always surprised not to be invisible, that people can notice me, have opinions about what I do — I find that genuinely shocking sometimes, even now. Second because there are so many kids here, so many different problems, files, parents, staff, and he still remembers small things about each of us. It's impressive.

"It didn't go well?" he asks.

"No, sir," I say. I try not to look sad, but my lost-puppy face is probably doing the talking for me.

"Tell me."

I take a deep breath.

"You know how Jack came to talk to you because he wasn't doing well?"

He nods, giving me space to keep going.

"I don't think I'm doing well either."

He doesn't say anything. Just waits.

"I haven't vomited!" I add, quickly, because I know that's the first thing he'll ask. And it's true. I haven't relapsed since I started with Dr. Herrera and the meds. I'm proud of that. Every day that I don't vomit is one more day added to my streak, and I think that's what getting better for real actually means. "But with Ethan being away so much…" I hesitate. He knows about Ethan, it's impossible not to, and dating isn't forbidden, only doing it in secret is. I take another breath. "I know he's almost ready to get out. Maybe not super soon, but he's getting out before me. And those thoughts have been making me really sad. I've been feeling really alone. I never asked for help before, but since Jack did and I saw that it worked… I don't know exactly what I'm asking for. I just know I'm not doing so well."

I stop. The fucking tears run down my face. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant on my part. But it's already out, I can't stop it.

Griff is quiet for a second.

And I swear his eyes get a little wet.