Page 49 of Even in the Dark

Then, “Bullshit! Do you see a hole? Or any blood anywhere? Huh? Anywhere at all?” Dylan sounds a lot older when he’s yelling like this. Kind of scary, honestly.

Dad must have the same thought, because he pushes his chair out, glances at Diane, then at mom. “I’m going up there.” Hestands. “See if, uh…” his voice trails off and he folds his napkin and places it on the table, then disappears down the hall.

There’s a series of smashing sounds now. Like glass shattering.

“Chloe,” mom leans over and touches her arm. “Can you take the girls down to the playroom, please, honey?” She turns to Sadie and Kenz. “Okay, girls? You can all take your plates down to the playroom and eat down there. Like an indoor picnic.”

Chloe doesn’t even object, because clearly even she’s rattled by the crazed screaming and crashes coming from upstairs.

“Is Dylan okay, mama?” Kenz asks, so softly it’s almost a whisper.

“He’s fine, sweetheart.” Diane’s holding back tears. “He’s just mad right now. But he’ll be fine.”

“Is daddy okay? Is he mad, too?”

“Daddy’s fine. He’s… He’s not mad.” She forces a smile. “Go on down to the playroom with Chloe and Sadie, alright? We’ll come down in a little bit with pie and ice cream. Sound good?”

Kenz nods, still not looking convinced. But Chloe takes her hand, and the three of them disappear down the stairs to the playroom, just as the screaming starts up again.

“What thefuck?You’re getting the neighbors involved now, too? Are you fucking kidding me? Are you—” There’s a loudthunk!“Fine, you want a hole?” Anotherthunk!“There’s your fucking hole! Happy now?” Anotherthunk!Then a horrible crash, followed by Phil’s raised voice. I can’t make out what he’s saying, though, because of the racket drowning him out.

“Thought you said I could destroy the whole house!”Crash!“Isn’t that what you said?”Crash! Thunk THUNK!“That you don’t care if I destroy the whole place?”

“Ohmygod…” Diane mewls, white as a ghost, covering her face with her hands.

Mom looks panicked. “Should I—Should I call someone? Should I call the police?”

Diane swipes tears with her thumbs beneath her eyes, smearing mascara across her cheeks. “I don’t… I don’t know.” She swallows. “I really don’t know.”

“Hit me, old man!” Dylan yells. “Fuckinghit me!”

Mom pulls out her phone.

There’s anothercrash!More swearing. Then the sound of a scuffle.

Dad’s voice… And Phil’s—louder now. “Dylan! Enough! That’senough!”

Diane reaches towards my mother, who has her phone out. “Mel, wait. We can’t—don’t call the police.” Her wobbly voice sounds nothing like her. “Phil won’t want that.”

“Oh.” Mom stops dialing. “Okay.” Her eyes meet mine and I can tell she doesn’t agree with Diane.

Honestly, I’m not sure I do either. But I have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach because I’m pretty sure I unleashed all of this. I don’t understand why, but I know if Dylan hadn’t been up there locked in the bathroom when they were expecting him down here for dinner, none of this would have spiraled the way it has.

Based on the thumps and cursing coming from upstairs, it sounds like Phil and dad are still working together to contain him. And I think they’re losing.

Diane suddenly stands. “Oh! I can call Dr. Morley.” She grabs her phone from the side table. She glances at my mother as she dials. “He’s Dylan’s therapist. He’ll have some ideas on how to handle this.” She sounds so hopeful.

I’m less optimistic. Not sure how a phone call with Dylan’s therapist is going to help de-escalate a situation that’s sounding more and more like a full-fledged war zone.

The therapist guy must pick up right away, because Diane launches into a choppy debrief of the situation seconds later. And then she listens, nodding and pacing and casting nervous glances in our direction every once in a while. Forcing a brief smile that’s probably meant to reassure us, but just makes me feel so bad for her. She’s been tossed into the deep end with this whole thing, and she barely knows how to swim. And in this instance, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who did the tossing. I shoved them all over the edge, into whatever spiral is happening upstairs, because of my petty penchant for retaliation. Based on Dylan not being able to navigate his emotions on the same level as me, because of shitty life circumstances he had nothing to do with, that left him scarred and alienated and reeling.

My eyes blink back the tears threatening to expose my shame.I have no right to cry right now.I’m the instigator in this situation. Not the victim.

“Okay…” Diane blows out a breath, setting her phone down on the table, her brief conversation over. “I’m going up there.”

Mom stands. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I can do this,” Diane says. And she does sound more confident now. More like the Mom On A Mission she is with her own daughters when they’re misbehaving. “He’s a kid. He’s acting out because he’s hurting.” And then, as if to reassure herself, she adds. “The girls are downstairs… It’ll be fine.”

---