Caleb unbuckles his booster seat belt, climbing out of the car before waiting as his mom opens up the driver's door and gets out as well. Caleb sees his brother standing by the garage door, gathering up his swim bag and gear, t-shirt over his torso, and swim pants on. His brother is agitated, movements loud, and sharp, and hurried. Caleb shakes his head sharply at the noise, trying to dislodge it from his brain.
"One second, Luke, Caleb has to use the restroom before we head back out," Mom says as she turns and scoops up the small boy to carry him inside faster. Caleb wraps his arms around her neck, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She smells like eight hours of office work, perfume, and salty tears for her youngest son.
"We're gonna be late," Luke replies as he pushes his long, dark hair back from his forehead, standing upright with his bag slung over his shoulder. The ten-year-old has a swim practice at six o'clock. The practice is twenty-five minutes away. However, it's already ten till.
"I know, but Caleb's appointment ran late," she calls back as she hurries inside. Caleb uses the restroom while she gets some water and a snack for the small boy, grabbing him a book and his noise-canceling headphones as well.
"Can we get fruit snacks for Luke?" Caleb asks, gesturing to the small packets stowed away in the pantry and looking back at his mother. The corner of her lips turns up, and she ruffles his hair.
"Sure, you can get them for him, kiddo."
Caleb stands on his tippy toes and grabs the package, smiling lightly. He turns around, pausing as he sees Luke throwing his bag off to the side of the kitchen area. The thud and jostle of zippers ringing and clacking on the granite countertop hits the quiet of the kitchen. Caleb blinks hard and rubs his eyes at the suddenness.
"We're always late because of Caleb," he scowls as his brown eyes lock on his mother. His mom purses her lips, brow furrowing.
"Well, Caleb needs a lot of help right now," she replies. Her voice is calm but rides the edge of anger. A few syllables stab through, pinching Caleb's thoughts, and he bites his lip. The small boy draws in a shaky breath, crinkling the fruit snacks in his grasp.
"But he's not the only one. He's always put first," Luke hisses. Neither of them acknowledges Caleb. He's clearly not a part of this, even though he's the subject of debate.
"Well, Luke, when you start blacking out because of asphyxiation from anxiety, perhaps we can renegotiate," his mother snaps. Her adult, business voice emerges: big words, sharp tone.
"My life is getting screwed over too!" Luke cries, brows furrowed and eyes squinting. His chest heaves underneath his crossed arms, and each breath shudders in.
Caleb observes for a moment before he closes his eyes, his body appearing to replicate his brother's emotions as he feels his breathing pick up. His chest aches. It's tight, and it hurts. They're scaring him. He doesn't want Luke to hate him. He tries to whimper, tries to tell Mom, but no sound comes out. It dies against his parched tongue and tight larynx.
"Well, Caleb isn't able to live a life at all!" His mother cries out, tears welling up in her dark brown eyes. "He can't go a day without crying, without gasping for a breath! He's hurting!" She adds, a few unwanted tears sinking down her cheeks. Luke quiets, in shock at seeing his mom crumble down, but the sound of Mom crying only makes Caleb's attack worse. He squeezes his eyes closed, hands traveling to his heart. The package of fruit snacks crinkles as he presses his hands and the pack to his chest, feeling the painful beating. His chest is constricted, each thought and breath seems to strain against the tightness, only to be choked away. He struggles for oxygen.
Luke turns away from the two, grabbing his bag and storming to the car to save face. Emotions are too much, and he despises that he feels angry and guilty at the same time. Multi-faceted, complex, emotional discussion isn't exactly a ten-year-old's forte. Caleb feels tears dribble down his own cheeks as he heaves for air, choking on the thick tension in his family. There's a delicate sniffle, and then Caleb's mom turns around with a rustle of fabric, sighing softly at the sight of her panicking son.
"Caleb, kiddo, let's calm down. Everything's fine," she murmurs, crouching down. She reaches forward, soft hands cupping his small cheeks. A thumb brushes beneath his eye, and he feels his tears smear as he hiccups, holding onto his chest.
"Take a deep breath," she says softly, acting it out as well. They hold the breath and then exhale at a slow pace. Caleb's exhale is shaky, interrupted by a hiccup.
"Now use your clicker at the end of the exhale. Click it and tell me one shape you see," his mother explains softly, remembering some of the therapist's directions. The little boy feebly digs for the clicker in his pocket. He opens his eyes and presses the button.
Click.
"Square," Caleb sniffles, looking at her dangling earring that glimmers in the bright kitchen lighting.
"Good, now click it again and find me a… circle," she directs, her thin lips breaking into a tentative smile. Tears sit glimmering unshed in her eyes, diamonds waiting to drip down and adorn her cheeks.
Click.
"The water bottle," Caleb mumbles as he points with a shaky hand to her water glass she had set on the counter when they'd come in for the quick bathroom break. His mom turns and glances at it with a soft smile, nodding. Her hair flounces, and she uses the moment with her countenance directed away to wipe her teary eyes. She turns backs, and diamond dust glitters on her cheekbones. His mother leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead, fingers threading through his hair and holding him close with a loving, troubled grip.
"I'm sorry for making you cry, Mommy," he whispers. She shakes her head, her eyes closed, and the corners of her lips curl up, still tightly pursed together.
"Don't worry about me, baby. I'm just a bit stressed. I'll be perfectly fine, I promise. Just use your clicker and be observant. Find shapes and objects to keep you grounded whenever you feel yourself start panicking. Press the button with each new find. It should help, alright?" She says softly to her youngest child, deep-set eyes meeting the thin almond ones and crinkled brows of her worried son.
"Okay," he mumbles, rolling it over in his hand nervously. Caleb shuffles his feet a bit and nods, crunching the fruit snacks before letting both hands drop to his sides.
"Let's go hop in the car," she hums, fixing the young boy's hair with a practiced, gentle hand. She stands and turns, the pair heading back out and getting in the car. The little boy buckles himself up into his car seat, and with a double-check from his mother, they start off. Luke glowers out the window for a bit before he shifts forward and turns on the radio.
"No, Luke, not right now," Mom says evenly, voice cool as she immediately turns it off.
"Why?" The boy asks, practically snarling.
"Because I said so! We will have this discussion later!" She hisses in response, sick of Luke testing her. She would calm down and explain it to him later when Caleb isn't in the same room. At the moment, she doesn't trust herself to have this conversation without making the situation worse. Caleb presses his clicker, watching from the back with the wide eyes of a young child. In the rearview mirror, her gaze finds him for just a moment before Caleb has to look away. Another set of brown eyes catch the glance, and it's evidence enough for the jury of Luke's heart to agree unanimously on the verdict. Luke scowls and crosses his arms, going back to glaring out the window of the passenger seat. With a cold finality, he adds one last comment.
"It's always about him," he condemns.
Click.