Stay or Go

Dear Brother,                  

I’m writing this message to you, dearest Brother, because I am alone in this silent house by the sea. I have a beautiful family of 12 children and a husband with arms open wide to give me bear hugs every night when he comes home from work. However, my life has cookie-crumbled into stress lately. I have come here to this silent summer home of ours to escape the endless misery of three six-year-olds spreading peanut butter all over our kitchen’s wooden table and chairs with their jelly-stained hands, three seven-year-olds unleashing the pigs, chickens, cows and horses to go feed in the grumpy, meat-loving neighbors’ yards across the highway, three toddlers under the age of three dashing around with matches to go light the fireplaces right outside our small castle of a house and two ten-year-olds ignoring life by wasting themselves on Fortnight.         

My husband—he’s a billionaire, so he can pay for every damage and loss our children force upon him, right? Some cows turning into beef patties or hamburgers, and pigs turning into bacon become breakfast and lunch for our toddlers. So I don’t worry about money. I sit back and stretch, the silence of the house shrouding me in peace. My husband wants me—no, needs me!—to come back to that dreaded dungeon of a mansion.

I mean, are you kidding me? Milk stains decorate the cabinets, juice stains permeate the carpets and tiled floors and broken phones are swimming in the overflowing sink spilling out onto the kitchen floor strewn with floating crushed Cheerios.     

These kids are all biological. They’re my children. It’s not that I don’t love them—it’s them not loving me. I’ve tried disciplining them. But I need him. Since he’s working all day and late into the night on weekends, I can barely use the bathroom without hearing glass shattering some hallways down.

So, please, Brother, do something about this dysfunctional family. Please make my family as peaceful as this silent house by the sea. The wind causes tiny ripples of water that turn into diagonal and vertical waves. For some reason, they’re never really horizontal. Whatever. I don’t really need to waste my time thinking over things I didn’t cause.   

I’m glad I have some peace and quiet—some things I have not gotten the last three years of my crazy life. *Sigh* As I am writing this letter, my son—the third oldest—is calling me to complain about the Cheerios landing in his soup. The culprit is six.  Those kids need a lesson learned. I’ll talk to him.  

When you get this letter, I’ll have gone down to the sea and swum to the other side, escaping everything in my life. You know what? I need a cruise, a spa day, a massage. Something to make me wake up and say, Congratulations, Renee, you did it! Owned that rewarding piece of life called relaxation.  Because I deserve it. I raised my children, tended to their needs and desires for forever and, now, I get to relax. My husband’s with me. We’re here, soaking up the sun. Letting the crash of the waves against the boat wash all our worries away.

I can’t bear the thought of him going through all this miserableness. It’s like my husband is the teacher, and my children are the students. He’s taking care of a class full of children. Elementary schoolers! I don’t know what to say to him. The sound of the phone is like a whap to the ear every time it buzzes—

I stopped typing—or, rather, clacking my hands against the keyboard for a half-hour—maybe, I don’t know. Just let the stillness soak into my heart as I stretch. Maybe one day, when everything’s in order, my husband and I will put our kids with their best friends, each friend for one child. Then while they have the time of their lives with them, we’ll hold hands, knowing our children and we are perfectly happy, the wind’s soft howl singing us to sleep for a beautiful nap—.

Brnnng, brnng!!  I jump up and grab the phone. Brother!

“Yes?” The sound of my own voice slides over the grater of frustration, stress, despair and the weariness of being pushed past the breaking point.

“Renee, your children need you. Everyone needs you. We love you, and we don’t want you to be there all alone. Please—come back. We accept you. Just listen.”

“Brother—I have a brilliant idea! Come with me on a cruise. My husband will be with me. Our children will be with their best friends—isn’t that exciting?” A huge sigh. “As much as you don’t want to.”

“I can’t. I think I’m going to die of stress. I think I’m going to die from a lack of sleep. I’m just going to go crazy.”

“Don’t talk like that. You don’t know—ouch! Will you quit it, Kaylen—that you can resolve the problem of chaos. You can jump up out of bed, take command and then we can hightail it out of there with joy and excitement. You can turn things around. You just need to do so. Before that cruise adventure. Please?”

Click. I stared at the phone. I went back to my letter. I’ve seen it—the wringing hands, the pinched face and the use of the car driving away in anger and chaotic frenzy. I’ve wanted to climb into the oven and let it bake me alive.  

God has blessed us with this house for a reason. I know it.

Brother called me again. “Come on, Renee. You need to understand something—you’re the parent. Now that you’re not doing the work of a mother who has not mothered constantly for years, you can—stop it, Kaylen! You know what? I got to go. Little two-year-old Micah’s sloshing away in the bathtub unattended. Bye!”

A few hours later, he called back. But I refused. He started avoiding my questions. But I almost melted with relief at Micah not drowning.

“But—” I protested.  

“Get back here!” Children of all voices demanded in the background. Plates smashed. Glass broke again. “Come back, or I’ll call the police!” Click.

I stared at and then clutched the phone after slowly pulling it away from my ear, tears forming in my eyes. I just…I can’t get caught up in all that. The very thought of swimming through that thick mud with nothing but heavy sweatpants and sweatshirt on—unbearable. I put the phone down, got down on my knees and prayed to God. He’d give my husband peace and an assertive attitude. Something to command my children to quit it now!

And then hiked out of that summer house. But I could still see the sea. I could hear the wind whistle. Maybe…. I called Brother, had him put the phone on speaker and had every child right at the phone, listening in to my voice. They all did as I told them, but Brother reported back that they obliged to do so. They didn’t care. But it was progress, I reported, happiness shooting up in me! Sometimes, someone would fight, and Brother would order someone to shut his mouth. Then the next explosion. But I remained calm, never allowing anyone to excite me. I just told them, leaving everything else to Brother.

Every time, I looked out at that sea, I blinked, wishing someone was here to join me in its peacefulness. In its tranquility. I wanted company.

Maybe one day, when my husband and I decide to move here permanently. Yeah! We could do that. He could work online after selling our house, and we could bask in the sun all day. Because we could train our children like the wind teaches the sea to have some curls. It can’t always be so still. Movement is key in making someone like you.

So, over the years, we worked on it, me staying here and working online. My husband came home every day to half-hearted attempts at control and peace, but such unruliness would burst up again. But pieces of the puzzle would fill into making a huge picture. Brother called, and he talked to me about fixing the problem. I said I hoped he did. He wanted me to fix it. I pursed my lips and hesitated.

One day, my family showed up in a big van. We all gathered around the table and did that 1000 piece puzzle silently. I told them via paper I would be returning. Everyone nodded their heads. But no one ever agreed. I started yelling. I started screaming. I lost it one day, a massive “temper tantrum,” right in front of my children, exploding.    

My children all stared at me, my husband calmly coming to me and soothing me. Did I deserve this stress? Did I want to take care of a family this big? No, I didn’t. I didn’t want to take care of a family of thirteen. I never had this dream of being a mother. I whizzed around, marched upstairs and stared out at the sea. Wishing, like Moana, it was calling me to my destiny.   

“Fix this now.” The sound of my husband’s voice behind me startled me, and I turned around. Taking a deep breath, I said, “I know what to do.”

“What?”

“Let’s do this together. I know I’ve been a jerk, but, please, I never wanted this. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve never wanted to be a mother. I’ve never wanted to get married. I only did so out of love for Brother—besides, it’s a good thing he was calling me!”

“Mm-hm.” My husband pursed his lips, nodding stiffly, looking down.

“But he did so out of best-friend friendship with him. He got married first, and then the kids came along, and then I felt lonely always going to his house and him coming to mine. I just wanted companionship, but he wants me to fix the problem.” I sighed. “I just want some peace. I wasn’t abandoning Brother. I just don’t know why I committed to such a responsibility. I—”

“We have troubles in our lives, Renee. Life isn’t perfect. But once you start tackling the big things, the little things will fall into place, too. You’ll understand one day. But right now, since you agreed to be a mother by birthing Maddie, Sadie, Kansas, Triumph, Disney, Wisconsin, Randolph, Kaylen, Micah, Daisy, Paisley and Miranda. You agreed to be my wife. You can’t just fly away or whatever you plan on doing—swimming your way to the other side of the sea. You have to stay here with us. We can do it. We can save our marriage. We can save our family. You can save yourself from escaping the chaotic world full of disobedience gone wild. Please—I need you. I want you. And I love you. You should do the same. You should love me as well.”

“I do! I just don’t want to deal with all the naughtiness. I know they’re children, but…” I wrung my hands. My husband came up to me, and hugged me firmly and then let go.

“Come on. Let’s do this together.”  

We did. Worked on it for the next several weeks. Kids went from the likes of three-year-olds to seventeen-year-olds with boyfriend/girlfriend issues, but they started to listen—a little. Suddenly, I dashed upstairs to my bathroom in my bedroom, took a shower and packed my things. Then, I opened my own window, feeling myself changing! I could shapeshift? I looked outside, my bird claws perched on the still.

I would be free. Free forever. If I don’t get shot first by the gunmen beyond the sea.

I turned around and went downstairs, having returned as a human. I couldn’t leave Brother. He’d be so disappointed—shame weighing his shoulders down, sadness pushing his mouth into a frown.

My husband told me I needed to be their mother. I nodded stiffly. Then I told him I wanted to fly away, never to return to my original life again. My husband just put a huge hand on my shoulder. “You are. You just need to listen to yourself. Go send that letter of yours to Brother. Stop letting it distract you from your own family.”

I nodded, but, when my husband left, I once again took flight—almost. Then I had an idea to avoid the poachers. I closed my eyes, imagined myself as a bird, spread my wings and flew out, searching. Searching for answers. For real ones. Searching for peace. I needed to be. To have. To live. I needed a family. One who listens without balking. The perfect family.

The perfect life! I thought, happiness bubbling up in me. Something new. Something else.

It wasn’t like I was escaping something I had to take care of.

Right?

Right?

I knew Brother wouldn’t agree. He’d be furious. And I loved him, too. We were like best friends. Closer than best friends. I loved him more than my own husband. I landed on a branch and looked around. Ah! What a view—the mountains just overhead, the clouds hovering over them like a mother bird over her babies when she’s about to go to sleep in her nest. The trees all standing together like faithful congregants in a church praising God together in perfect harmony. I smiled. But I couldn’t sleep. I was tired—so tired. I blinked and closed my eyes, forcing myself. But I ended up unable to even dream. I couldn’t even go to sleep. I just simply tried. Like I did with everything else.

I looked back. I flew on. Back to my family. I returned, and opened my eyes. I went downstairs.

They were different. It was like my family was put under a spell. A temporary spell of obedience. I looked over at…Brother! He smiled.

“You’re not going to fly away like that, are you?”

I stared at him. He saw me? I gasped, thinking. Wait—so I’ve been talking to…

“Me.” My husband pointed at himself. I widened my eyes. Not Brother the whole time? My husband? I looked at my husband. He, wearing a cheerful smile, nodded and came over to me. My brain raced a million miles per hour. I couldn’t speak. But…

“Brother?”

He came over to me, and slapped a hand on my shoulder. “I came after he talked to you. To help you.”

Tears formed in my eyes. My own brother to come and help me with my life. To fix it.

I struggled to speak. When he left, I blinked and looked at my husband. He pressed a firm smile on his face. “So,” I began, “he came here to help you? It wasn’t you? It was Rustic?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Brother was at work.”

I dashed upstairs, grabbed the letter out of the trashcan and bolted downstairs. “Wait!” I called, jumping the last step and despairing when the door was closed. “Wait!” But when I opened it, he wasn’t there. “Where are you?” I called to a place of darkness and street lights. “I have your letter. It may not be finished, but…”

I stood there, hating the fact I was too late. He should’ve waited! Oh well, I thought as I closed the huge wooden oak door with its stain-glass window. He was here. He came to help me. The only thing I can do now is to prove myself by being the mother I refused to be ever since I married Rustic. The mother I just saw other women be so well and envied until I thought I saw green eyes instead of blue ones every time I looked in the mirror. As I closed the door, I walked back into the kitchen where my family all looked at me. I fell into laughter as I saw innocent smiles on all faces. I shook my head, confused, and looked at my husband. “So—you were helping me the whole time?”  

“Yes,” my husband started, “I was. I invited him when he came home from work. I knew he’d be the one to help you. Help you get back on track.”

“Get back,” I muttered softly, tears coming to my eyes. I covered my mouth with disbelief. “on track.”

I walked upstairs and entered the bathroom. Flicking on the lights, I looked into the mirror. I blinked, wondering. So my husband’s brother-in-law loved me so as to fly all the way out here. It seemed unbelievable. Then someone spoke in the background, and I whizzed around.

“You weren’t there to do the work of motherhood, so I had to be you and me.” My husband walked away, shaking his head softly. “I asked for help, and God answered our prayers.” I ran out to him.

“Honey!”

He kept walking, rounding the banister to go downstairs. “I just want a faithful wife. I don’t want to hire an in-law to save the day! I married you to partake of this marriage and family. Now I can’t!”

“All I want is to be loved and love in return. I’m sorry. I wanted Brother to give this to me. And,” I paused, “he did. No one’s like Brother. No one—not even you.” My shoulders slumped. I could crumple into a ball and then melt through the floor like a ball of chocolate under the blazing heat.     

My husband told me stop writing to my brother. “Be a mother. Stop hiding in your brother’s comfort.”

I went back to my computer. I cranked out something. And showed it to my husband. He took it. I looked at him. He stared at it for a long, long time. Then, he sighed. “I love you.” He stated. “But you’ll have to earn my trust.”  

I would, I promised myself as I curled up in bed after kissing my husband good-night.    

For you, Brother!