Page 69 of Husband of the Year
“Of course. You called it, Mom,” I say.
With my arm around her shoulder, I feel a sense of comfort as I pull her close. With each act of love from my mother, the tiny fractures in my heart from childhood carefully stitch together, creating a new, stronger seam. Over time, I realize, wounds have a way of healing, not just through time but through love—the kind that reassures you, that reminds you of your worth, that makes you believe in the beauty of second chances. In her embrace, I find not only solace but a profound sense of belonging, a reminder that even the most broken hearts can become whole again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
From: [email protected]
Sent: 3/25 at 2:33 A.M.
Subject: Reach Out (I’ll Be There)
Dear Marvin,
I miss you. I miss kissing your face. Holding you in bed. Being held by you. You do this thing where you wrap your arm around my chest and your palm floats between my torso and stomach. When you touch me, I’m instantly calmed and lulled into a state of blissful sleep. How do you make me feel so incredibly loved?
My parents are asking about you. That’s a good sign. After two years, I think they finally understand me being with a man isn’t a phase, nor an indicator of their success as parents. My mom loves that you’re a teacher. It’s a connection point for her. They’re not sure about making it for the wedding, only because of everything going on here. Even though it’s hard for my mother to talk about, I know she feels responsible for Liam.Barring another crisis, he should be in a sober house within a few weeks, but we don’t know if he’ll be in a place to travel by August and I’m not sure they’d leave Chicago without him. All things that will work themselves out.
As I type this, your soon-to-be nephew is plastered to my chest in a sling. The pediatrician advises against letting him sleep in this position for extended periods, but since he’s still waking up at least once during the night to eat, putting him in the sling after a bottle is the fastest way to get him back to sleep. An added bonus—I love it. Having his head on my chest. His sweet baby smell. Feeling his tiny heartbeat. He’s been through so much and he seems to be bonding with me. After being Illona’s dad, being Gregory’s uncle might be my next greatest achievement.
There’s a magic that happens when you hold a baby, Marvin. I remember when Illona was this small. All she wanted to do was cuddle. Nothing made her happier than being snuggled up with the three of us in bed. Isabella coined the term “cuddle bubble” for our cherished spot, where we would spend hours snugly intertwined like puzzle pieces that had finally discovered their perfect match. There’s a coziness, a warmth, a complete feeling of serenity when a baby sleeps with you—I think you’d love it.
Greggie weighs eighteen pounds. When I’m holding him, every atom of his body depends on me. There’s no feeling more perfect than the warmth of a baby snuggled close. He’s completely trusting and vulnerable and did I mention the baby smell? Sometimes, when he’s in his highchair, I catch my father sniffing the curls on his head and the biggest grin overtakes my face because I understand completely. Right now, he’s making the tiniest little rumbling, or maybe it’s a gurgling while hesleeps. I wish you could hear it. I’m not sure my phone would pick it up, but I can try recording it. I’m pretty confident this is what angels sound like when they slumber.
My parents and I have been talking more about the situation. Liam. Greggie. It’s stirring up emotions for my parents and adding to the tension here. Marvin, I need you to know more about my family’s history with alcoholism and recovery.
Liam began drinking when I was away at college. My parents didn’t want me to worry, but they also couldn’t hide the situation for long. I was having issues with drinking and when I went into rehab, my parents decided it was too much to share about Liam’s struggles. Addiction is a family disease. The impact of its use extends beyond just the individual; it affects the entire family, who must bear the consequences.
Liam was a senior and missing classes. He’d been an excellent student until then, but his grades plummeted. My mother’s brother had died from the disease, and having not one, but two sons afflicted was too much for her to handle. She was convinced alcoholism was a psychological problem. She wondered if a therapist could help Liam. Coming out of rehab, I knew a therapist wasn’t the only answer, but my mother didn’t want to talk about it. And my father wanted to protect her. So I retreated into my shell. I not only avoided the topic with my parents, but I also kept my distance from Liam, hardly speaking to him. I knew he was spiraling and instead of running toward him to help, I bolted away. Looking back, I understand my actions were a defense mechanism, and I’m not proud of how I handled the situation.
But I can’t run away now. Not from my parents. Not from Liam. And certainly not from this precious baby.
I spoke to Gabe last night. He’s worried about the situation, but not in a place to offer more than emotional support. His work demands that he spend three weeks out of every month traveling, leaving him with only one precious week to spend with his own family back in Anaheim. Thankfully, the alcoholic gene skipped Gabe in our family. His understanding of things falls short compared to mine.
Mom and Dad have agreed to take custody. This way Greggie stays with family and can see and know his father. I know it’s challenging for Liam, but he seems to understand that, with his track record, he may never be capable of being solely responsible for his son. I told him this was the most loving act he could perform. It was a tough conversation. I held my little brother while he sobbed. It was probably both his darkest hour, but also the most loving thing he’ll ever do for his son. And I’ve never felt closer to him. I told him I was sorry for not being there when he was struggling. For not trying to slap some sense into him. For not being the big brother he needed.
This is my chance to do right by Liam.
I swore to do everything I could to make sure his son was taken care of. Of course, I’ll help financially. I offered to pay for a nanny, but my parents won’t hear of it. They’re proud. They’d never have anyone in their house helping. My father always teased me about Cindy. “You and that wife have all that money in the world, but can’t take care of one little girl.” They’re just of a different mindset. We’ve talked about maybe having Greggie come stay with us in Maine for a month during the summers. Don’t worry, I can take time off. This way, he can stay connected to his uncles and cousin. I’ve already talked to Isabella and she’ll do whatever we need to help.
That’s probably a few years away, but something for you to think about.
Okay, I should put this little peanut in his crib and try to get a few hours of sleep myself.
But not before a quick lesson.
“Reach Out (I’ll Be There),” sometimes written without the parentheses, was not only the biggest hit of the Four Tops’ career but widely considered one of the best songs of all time. Did you know after they recorded it, the band disliked the song so much, they begged the label not to release it as a single? Of course, the all-knowing head of Motown, Mr. Berry Gordy, insisted it was a hit, and the rest is history.
Take a listen to the song. Listen to the words. This is what a living amends is all about. We don’t have to speak about it, but my family knows whatever they need, all they need to do is reach out, and I’m there. I need this baby to know I’m here for him, too. To shelter him. Love him. Protect him. Even from far away.
I love you, Marvin Block. You make me want to be a better man—that’s not something to take lightly. Please be safe and know I’m thinking of you. Always.
We’ll talk soon.
All my love,
Olan
