Chapter 34

On the way to pick up the kids after work, June was riding a high. She felt liberated, finally sensing a path to closure with Donna after reflecting on the day’s events. As she drove, she blasted “Fight Song,” singing at the top of her lungs, reveling in the freedom she felt. But just as she was on top of the world, sitting at a stoplight waiting to make a left turn, her moment of peace was shattered. Out of nowhere, she was thrust forward with a loud bang. She had just been rear-ended.

Her first reaction was pure frustration and anger. "Really!?" she yelled, throwing her hands up and glancing in the rearview mirror to see the culprit. She couldn’t believe it. There she was, stopped, blinker on, having a wonderful moment, only to be crashed into by some careless driver. She made the left turn, pulling into a gas station, hoping the person who hit her would follow and not drive off. She also hoped they had insurance.

Thankfully, the other driver pulled into the station too. A young man, visibly shaken and flush-faced, stepped out of his car and immediately apologized. He explained that he’d seen the green light, glanced at his phone to take a call, and by the time he looked up, it was too late to stop. June’s initial anger dissipated as the motherly instinct in her emerged. Seeing how scared he was, she assured him that accidents happen and that they just needed to get things sorted out.

With 45 minutes left before she had to pick up the kids, June and the young man began exchanging information and taking pictures of the damage. It was at this point that a man, wearing a “Thin Blue Line” jacket, approached her. His patronizing tone immediately rubbed June the wrong way as he asked condescendingly who she had hit. She hated being mansplained to, but she remained polite and clarified that she had been the one hit.

The man quickly turned his attention to the young driver, muttering about how “kids these days” are always on their phones. June, though irritated by his assumptions, could see through his bravado. He was just looking for validation in his own way, though it wasn’t a method she appreciated. Rather than engage in his negative energy, June responded compassionately, determined to maintain her own positivity.

As she resumed putting gas in her car, "Thin Blue Line" followed her, continuing to offer unsolicited advice about the damage likely being worse than it looked. She brushed off his commentary, remarking that this wasn’t her first rodeo. When he proudly shared a story about how a grill on his truck had saved him from more damage during an accident, June humored him with a polite, “That must have been a good investment!” Eventually satisfied, the man strutted off, leaving her to focus on the task at hand.

After exchanging insurance information and taking the necessary pictures, June realized she was running out of time to pick up her kids. She still hadn’t let Hadrian know about the accident. Quickly, she messaged him, saying she’d been rear-ended but was okay. She also mentioned she might need him to pick up the kids, although she planned to call if necessary since he didn’t always get chat notifications on time.

She contacted the police just to confirm whether they needed to come out, but was told they didn’t unless a driver was unlicensed, traffic was being blocked, or someone was injured. They advised her to take additional photos, which she hadn’t yet done. June felt grateful for that call—it reminded her to gather all the proper documentation before heading off.

Arriving late but still with enough time to collect her children, she explained the situation to them, and they responded kindly. To brighten the mood, June suggested going to Hobby Lobby and asked if they preferred fast food or a home-cooked meal. The kids voted for fast food, but soon a debate ensued over which restaurant to choose. June helped them navigate the conflict, striving to ensure no one felt like a "loser." After parking between Chic-Fil-A and Culver’s, they finally settled on Culver’s, and everyone, including Evelyn who had initially leaned towards Chic-Fil-A, was happy.

While sitting in the parking lot, June tried to file her insurance claim but was placed on hold. She used the app instead and discovered she hadn’t updated her car details after upgrading to a new model last year. Frustrated, she decided to deal with the claim later, preferring to spend the evening with her girls.

After scarfing down her burger, they all went into Hobby Lobby to pick up black paint and canvases for the kids’ growing interest in art. As usual, they found other items they liked, and June treated herself to a “Be Kind” hat. It felt like a small but meaningful act of self-care. The kids, remembering their Easter money, picked out extra items, and they closed down the store by the time they left.

Exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster of the day, June retreated to her room after they got home, hoping to sleep by 9:30. Hadrian never responded to her message about the accident, leaving her feeling sad, abandoned, and unsupported. Fridays were his time to unwind with friends, and she didn’t want to interrupt that, but she couldn’t help feeling like she wasn’t equally important. As she fought against these emotions, she reminded herself that she deserved his concern and support. Realizing that he likely hadn’t seen her message, June sent a follow-up.

After that, her mind calmed, and eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, June saw Hadrian’s response on her phone. He’d come in after she’d fallen asleep and was already gone by the time she got up. Off to his own version of church on a Saturday morning. She chuckled to herself, remembering her upbringing in the Seventh-day Adventist faith, where Saturdays were sacred, the true seventh day. Her parents had always emphasized the importance of the Sabbath, observing it with devotion and reverence.

Hadrian, on the other hand, had his own version of a holy ritual. The gym was his sanctuary, and his services were every morning, seven days a week. A whole different kind of Seventh-day Adventist, she thought, laughing quietly at the comparison.

Hadrian spent a lot of time at the gym, usually at least two hours a day. On weekdays, he was up at 3 a.m. and back by 6 a.m., while on weekends he’d head out around 5 or 6 a.m. and return by 8. June knew the gym was his “medication” for his mental health, and she respected and supported his dedication. But, sometimes, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. He got three hours a day, every single day, to focus on himself. She wished she could dedicate that kind of time to herself and her mental health too.

Then, she’d catch herself. Recently, she’d made choices that had allowed her more space for self-care. Her current job was simple enough to not only excel at but also leave her with plenty of time for journaling. Still, it wasn’t the same. She sacrificed work time to get her “me” time, while Hadrian sacrificed family time. It felt like an imbalance that needed addressing eventually. She wasn’t ready for that conversation yet, but when she had processed everything and understood what she really wanted out of it, she knew it would be time to lay it all on the table.

Looking at Hadrian’s message again, it felt good to have a response from him, but she also noticed the familiar thread of guilt in his words. He hadn’t seen her earlier message, and of course, he felt bad about it. His question about whether the other person had insurance seemed like concern, but there was no real empathy for what she had been through. That was a recurring struggle. She found it difficult to observe expressions of empathy from Hadrian. He was often too wrapped up in either defending himself or beating himself up over his perceived failures. Self-compassion seemed foreign to him, which meant it was hard for him to truly empathize with others, including her.

June knew this was Hadrian’s “work” to do, but she couldn’t help but hope she could help him learn self-compassion, not just for her own sake but also for their children.

When June first awoke, Evelyn had been by her side, nudging her impatiently, eager to start the dollhouse project she'd picked up from Hobby Lobby. June had warned her the night before that the project was too complex. It wasn't something she could handle, not after the exhausting day she’d had.

“I just need another hour,” she mumbled, pulling the covers closer, but Evelyn pouted and walked back to her room. June, feeling a pang of guilt, turned on Evelyn's phone for her. She hated how much Evelyn relied on that screen—how it became her comfort, her entertainment, her distraction—but June couldn't bring herself to fight it that morning.

Yet sleep wouldn’t return. Guilt weighed on her chest as she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to Evelyn. She couldn’t keep letting her daughter fall into the comforting trap of technology. With a sigh, June threw off the blankets and got out of bed. It was time to make good on her promise.

In the dining room, the two of them cleaned a space to start the project. The room felt colder than it should have, and June couldn’t shake a growing sense of unease. The dollhouse kit seemed to loom over them—far too intricate, too overwhelming for an 8-year-old’s hands. As they worked, the frustration crept in. The pieces were too delicate, and nothing fit as it should. She told Evelyn they’d give it an hour, but even that seemed ambitious.

After an hour, they had managed to glue together a couch—incorrectly. They’d have to redo it. The whole endeavor felt pointless. Elizabeth and Emily drifted in and out of the room, offering to help, though their attention didn’t linger long.

When Hadrian came home from the gym, he took in the scene with a raised eyebrow, but his eyes sparked with interest. "This is my kind of thing," he said, half-smiling, offering to help Evelyn. June felt a pang of relief but also frustration that she hadn’t been able to guide her daughter through the project herself. She forced a laugh. “It’s just stressing me out,” she admitted. “Maybe you can help her finish it.”

She watched as Hadrian settled in, already more at ease than she had been. Evelyn was searching, still trying to figure out what she liked, who she wanted to be. But lately, it felt like Evelyn relied too much on her for direction. And June, beneath it all, wasn’t sure how much longer she could be that anchor.

After abandoning the project, June suggested they clean up the house for Aria’s upcoming sleepover. The act of cleaning tugged at old memories, the kind she tried not to dwell on—her childhood embarrassment over how messy, dirty, and poor they had lived. She didn’t want her children to grow up with that same shame. She tried to reframe it, convincing herself that cleaning was an act of kindness, a way to honor their guest. But even as she spoke the words, that old shame lingered in the back of her mind, a shadow that never quite faded.

After breakfast, she took True for a longer walk than usual, 1.5 miles instead of the shorter route she normally did with Evelyn. The air was crisp, the kind of weather that made her feel briefly alive, like she could breathe easier. It was just her, her pitbull, and her fight songs playing through her headphones—music she’d carefully curated to keep her grounded, to remind her of who she was before everything started to blur around the edges.

When she returned, Hadrian was outside washing his Porsche. He looked peaceful for once, as if the weight he usually carried had lifted, if only for a moment. “Can I go to a coffee & cars meetup with Nick?” he asked, carefully. “I’ll be back in time to take Emily to her activities.”

June hesitated. He was giving her an out, a chance to say no if it was too much for her. But she checked in with herself and found, to her surprise, that she wanted him to go. “Sure,” she said, genuinely. “Have fun.” She meant it. It felt good to let him have something for himself.

Inside, a momentary memory flickered—she had seen Elizabeth outside earlier, barefoot. June was barefoot too, and she thought of the grounding practice Phee had sent her. She found Elizabeth and told her about it, hoping it might help calm her. But Elizabeth brushed her off, shrugging with that budding all-knowing teenage air. "I tried it. It didn’t work. I’m still anxious."

June didn’t push. Instead, she walked barefoot in the grass for a moment herself, hoping the coolness of the earth might offer her some clarity. She took a picture of Hadrian washing his car, capturing the moment quietly.

She knew he wouldn’t want her to post it—he was always private, in ways that often baffled her. "It’s just for me," she explained when he looked at her, a little suspicious. "For the memories. So we can look back on these times one day and remember the good moments."

Hadrian raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “I don’t even like washing cars,” he said, though he seemed less annoyed than usual. “But with the pressure washer, it’s not too bad.” He started drying the car with a chamois, his movements methodical, precise.

June watched him for a moment longer, wondering if he realized how much the car meant to him—or if he was still hiding behind the idea of it as “an investment.” Every time she complimented it, he talked about selling it, as if he needed to justify owning it. She’d always tell him, “I just hope you enjoy it first.”

But now, watching him work, June felt a flicker of doubt. She wasn’t sure anymore if he enjoyed any of this. Or if any of them did.

After breakfast, June told the girls to clean their rooms. She had already asked Hadrian to take Emily to violin and rehearsals so she could focus on cleaning the house. June didn’t mind cleaning; in fact, she enjoyed it. The quiet focus it brought her was something she valued deeply. The fact that Hadrian was giving her the space and time to do that was something she appreciated more than she could express.

But before they left, Emily asked June for help with her room. At first, June said no—she was on a tight schedule—but Emily, with her calm, logical reasoning, pointed out that June would have time to clean while she was at her activities. She only had a short time before she had to leave. It was hard to argue with her daughter’s careful logic, so June agreed, feeling a touch of pride in Emily’s maturity.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was putting up a fight about cleaning her own room. She stubbornly refused, crossing her arms and declaring that she simply wasn’t going to do it. Frustration flared up in June, and before she knew it, she had threatened to call Aria’s stepmom, Autumn, who also happened to be Evelyn’s teacher—their favorite teacher—and tell her that Aria couldn’t come for the sleepover because Evelyn refused to clean. The words had barely left her mouth when Evelyn ran off to her room in tears. Guilt washed over June immediately. She’d overstepped, and she knew it.

As June stood there, conflicted, Elizabeth called her into her room. June could hear Evelyn sobbing from down the hall, the sound of things crashing in frustration. Elizabeth, ever the observant one, suggested a solution. When they were younger, June used to hold cleaning contests, and the one who picked up the most won a prize. Elizabeth wondered if they could do that with Evelyn, to make it more fun for her. June’s heart swelled with gratitude for her daughter’s kindness and maturity.

But first, June knew she had to apologize. That threat had been too harsh. She found Evelyn in her room, still crying, and knelt beside her. "I’m sorry," she said, gently. "I shouldn’t have said that. I was wrong."

Evelyn wiped her eyes, looking up at her mother with uncertainty. “It only made me not want to clean more. I thought if I wasn’t going to get the sleepover, what was the point?” June nodded, understanding the logic and regretting her impulsive threat even more.

After the apology, Elizabeth presented her contest idea. Evelyn was skeptical at first, convinced that Elizabeth would just win. But Elizabeth quickly countered, offering to pick up everything except the clothes, leaving only the clothes for Evelyn. That shy, reluctant smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips, and she accepted the challenge.

June felt a wave of pride as she watched the girls start their race. “Three, two, one—go!” she called out, and they both launched into action. She couldn’t help but laugh and leave the room, letting them figure out the rest. When she returned later, the room was spotless, and Elizabeth had quietly gone back to her own space.

With Evelyn’s room sorted, June helped Emily with her closet before sending her off to her activities with Hadrian. It was a relief to finally turn her full attention to cleaning the house. The garbage and recycling were overflowing, and June knew she still wasn’t supposed to lift much due to her recent surgery. She went to Elizabeth’s room again and asked for help.

Elizabeth had cleaned her entire room, except for the vacuuming. When June asked her to take out the trash and recycling, offering to vacuum in exchange, Elizabeth happily agreed. June suggested she might want to do her laundry soon, as her basket was overflowing, but Elizabeth simply shrugged. Later, to June’s surprise and joy, Elizabeth started doing her laundry on her own, folding everything and putting it away neatly. She even washed her favorite blankets. June felt a lump in her throat, touched by her daughter’s responsibility and growth.

As she worked, June put on her playlist of “fight songs,” finding strength in the music. She focused on deep cleaning the blue bathroom—the one Hadrian always used. Though the rest of them used the other bathroom by the bedrooms, Hadrian preferred this one, and as a result, it was often littered with his hair shavings and left in disarray. The toilet and sink were regularly cleaned, but the shower was another story.

Determined, June tackled it with a vengeance, scrubbing the soap scum and mold from the tiles. After a while, though, she realized she was running out of both time and energy. She did what she could, then sprayed the rest with bleach, accepting that it was “good enough.”

That became her mantra for the rest of the house—“good enough.” It wasn’t perfect, but it felt good. So good. Having a clean space was calming to her, a stark contrast to the chaotic home she grew up in. The clean, organized environments she had experienced later in life, like at Pearl’s house, had contributed to her mental healing. Yet here, with a messy husband and kids, she had to learn to find balance, to accept that “good enough” was sometimes the best she could do.

At some point, Hadrian sheepishly asked if he could go to another car meetup. June agreed, on the condition that he be home by 3:30 or 4 in case she wasn’t back from picking up Emily. Hadrian looked confused, so she explained that she’d promised Emily they could stop for ice cream on the way home, and she wasn’t sure how long it would take. She didn’t mind leaving Evelyn with Elizabeth for a few hours, but a parent needed to be home when Aria arrived for the sleepover. He was cool with that.

With a few minutes to spare before picking up Emily, June quickly filled out an accident report with the Wisconsin DOT. She finished just in time, then headed out to get Emily from rehearsals. As promised, they stopped at the Chocolate Factory for ice cream. The weather was gorgeous, and for a while, June allowed herself to just enjoy the moment—ice cream for Emily, a buffalo chicken sub for herself, and some precious one-on-one time with her daughter.

As they drove home, June realized they’d be taking Aria to a birthday party the next day, and the car was a complete disaster. Months of quick dinners on the go between school and activities had taken their toll.

When they arrived home, June asked the girls to grab garbage bags and help clean out the car. To her relief, they did it without much complaint. Once the trash was out, June couldn’t stop herself from noticing the crumbs and spilled food everywhere. She decided to vacuum, then grabbed the Clorox wipes to clean up the grime. It wasn’t as bad as she thought, and with the beautiful weather, it felt good to do the work.

By the time they finished, the car was spotless, and the day felt like a small victory. Each moment of calm, each clean surface, was another step toward balance—a balance June had been striving for her whole life.

Hadrian came home just as June was putting the car away in the garage. She had spent the last hour cleaning it out, a small triumph in a day full of them. No sooner had she closed the garage door than Aria’s family pulled up to drop her off for the sleepover. The kids, already buzzing with excitement, darted off to play, leaving June to revel in the peaceful hum of the evening.

The rest of the night felt almost magical, like a little fairy tale unfolding in the house. June helped the girls paint, her heart swelling as she watched them laugh and splash colors onto their canvases. Later, she made pizza, the smell filling the kitchen with warmth and comfort. She carefully set up a sleeping mat for Aria on the floor in Vivian’s room. When Emily chimed in, saying she wanted to sleep in there too, June set up another mat for her. The house felt alive with the soft, innocent energy of children’s play.

Elizabeth came in and out of the picture, occasionally joining in as the younger ones played together. They all settled into a game of hide-and-seek, their giggles echoing through the house, filling it with a sense of joy that June hadn’t felt in a long time. She was falling in love with her family again, or maybe even for the first time! With all her heart, June thought romantically.

When it was finally time for bed, the girls got into their pajamas, brushed their teeth, and curled up in their makeshift sleepover setup. June stood in the doorway for a moment, watching them, feeling the peacefulness wash over her. She closed the door softly, leaving them to their whispered conversations and muffled laughter. By 10:30, she heard Vivian put on sleep music. Then, silence. The house was still.

Yet, despite the quiet, sleep didn’t come easily for June. Again. She lay awake, her mind buzzing, turning over and over in the sheets. Another night of restless, fitful sleep. It confused her, this sleeplessness. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t find peace, why the sense of calm wouldn’t settle in the way it used to when she was a young woman.

Her thoughts drifted, wandering through her recent feelings of happiness and freedom after years of feeling broken, weighed down by depression and the pressure to succeed. It was strange—how a simple shift in her life, just learning to say "No," had lifted so much off her shoulders. But now, after the relief, she felt almost disoriented. Was this what it was like to come up too quickly from a deep dive? Did she have the bends? She chuckled at the thought.

DCS, also known as the bends, happens when you come up from a dive too fast, right? she thought. Inadequate decompression following increased pressure. Sounds familiar.

The symptoms ran through her mind as she stared at the ceiling—joint pain, fatigue, dizziness, confusion. It was almost too on point. Maybe I’m not far off after all, she joked to herself. Is this also what happens when you come up from the depths of mental pressure too quickly?

The thought was absurd, but the connection amused her, her brain stringing together metaphors in the dark. She didn’t dive deep underwater, but emotionally, it had felt like she had been submerged for a long time. Did the brain know the difference between literal pressure or metaphorical pressure? She wasn’t sure, but now, after surfacing, the world felt different, lighter, but also strange. It was as if her body didn’t quite know how to adjust to the freedom she’d found. Like she wasn’t sure how to handle being okay.

Her mind made its funny connections, and the joke kept her company through the fitful sleep that finally came, somewhere near the middle of the night.