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: : : FREYA IS FILLING OUT THE paperwork that will make Tim her employee. At the desk next to hers sits Denise, quietly turning the pages of a book. Freya signs the final form, looks at it for a second, frowns, taps the end of her pen against her lips.
—Can I ask you something? she says to Denise.
Denise looks up from the photo that she's scrutinizing. —Sure.
—Do you think this thing with my half-brother is fucked-up? she asks. —Like maybe I shouldn't be giving him this job?
—No, Denise says. —It sounded like he was in a tough place—you wanted to help him out. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It's rare, to be in a position where you can actually help a person you want to help.
—Yeah, Freya says, —I guess. Just talking to my mom about the whole thing has gotten me all turned around as to whether I'm actually helping him or not. I mean, she's all working this angle where it's like she wants the whole family to close ranks against him so that he'll go back and finish high school. And, I don't know, I mean, I think it's good for people to finish high school—
—It's not like he can't finish at some point in the future, says Denise. —He can always get a GED down the road, when he's ready to do it. From what you were telling me, it doesn't sound like he's really in a space where he's ready to finish, and I don't think that fighting with his entire family is what's going to help him get ready.
—Yeah, no, you're right, says Freya. —You're totally right. This was Freya's whole thinking about it in the first place—she wants to give Tim a space where he can feel like he's not under continuous assault. She thinks he needs that space—not specifically to get his GED, but just to do anything, just to fucking survive.
—How are things going on the home front? Denise asks. —I mean with putting him up and all.
—Ah, Freya says. —I don't know. Kind of rough? I mean, he's been there for a little over a week now—and I don't really care, I mean, he can stay there for as long as he wants—but I can tell that it's starting to wear on Jakob? I mean, we had a lot of conflict about whether we should ask Tim to stay in the first place—? And now that's all kind of simmering in the background—?
—That's maybe more where I'd be concerned, Denise says. —The home front. Not with Jakob so much, I mean with him—whatever—you can work that out. But when you're opening up your home to someone—someone you care about—I'd just be careful. Because eventually it can get to a point where you need to maybe say no to the person, or when you need to tell the person that they have to leave, and that—she slows down here, choosing her words carefully—that requires a certain—internal fortitude that I'm not sure everyone has.
Freya remembers a question Denise asked her once. Have you ever been in a relationship that you knew you needed to get out of? —You sound like you're speaking from experience, Freya says.
—Yeah, Denise says. —Yeah, I think it's safe to say that. She turns another page in her book. —I invited a guy into my home last summer, she says, —and what I didn't know then was that he's an alcoholic.
—Oh, shit, says Freya.
Denise smiles thinly.
—So you kicked him out? Freya asks.
—No, Denise says. —I can't kick him out. I mean, I think about it every day; I've thought about it probably every day for the last nine months. But I've come to realize that I'm not strong in the way that I'd need to be in order to do it. I look at him and I just see a person who's hurting. And I just can't help but think that he'd be even worse off if I kicked him out. At least with me he has someone who cares about him.
—But maybe if you kicked him out it'd knock some sense into him, Freya says. —Like maybe he'd know that he'd hit rock bottom. Maybe that's what he needs to get turned around.
—Do you think that's what your brother needs to get turned around? To hit rock bottom?
—No, Freya says, after a second. There's a period where neither of them speak. —So—how do you deal with it?
—I've started going to Al-Anon meetings, Denise says.
—Whoa, seriously? Freya asks.
Denise nods.
—What's that like?
—It's hard, Denise says. —It's really fucking hard. It's hard to listen to other people talk about what they're going through because so much of it is so awful and you end up caring about these people and wanting to help them and there's nothing that you really can do—I mean, beyond just listening—and then it's hard to talk about your own situation because you don't want to make these other people care about you and your problems, I mean it's a burden, and they're already going through so much—and then you get past that and you try to talk about it and—somehow talking about it makes it real, you know? Where like when you're just living it it could be like a bad dream or some kind of fucked-up hallucination, or it could be happening to someone else, or whatever—but when you actually need to talk about it—? To say this is my story? Usually I just get up there and start crying.
—Wow, says Freya. —Wow, I didn't know that. I'm sorry.
—It's OK.
—Is there anything that I can—I mean—do you want to take the day off or anything?
Denise smiles. —I don't really think that that's necessary.
: : :
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