to me. He’s mentioned feeling abandoned by people, but I didn’t know he meant your parents.”
“Yeah. They were the worst, unfortunately.” Courteney sighed. “My dad still refuses to acknowledge his anxiety disorder. They even refused to go to Gabe’s funeral because Cary was in ‘inappropriate hysterics’ over his death. That is a direct quote. My dad actually said that to him, in front of me, the day before the funeral, after he read some stupid article in the paper that had a picture of Cary crying in public.”
“Oh. God.” Tears were forming in my eyes, and I brushed them away. I couldn’t believe I’d done that to him. Ambushed him, like she said. In his own house. Letting his parents into his inner circle when they weren’t necessarily welcome there, and certainly not without warning.
“He gets along okay with Mom,” she said. “Sometimes. She can be clueless, or like I said, pretend clueless. And she can be kind. She’s a mom, you know? She cares, in her way. But Dad is harder to deal with. He treats me like a princess as long as I’m perfectly happy, or pretending to be perfectly happy in his presence, and I don’t complain about a thing. But Cary… he’s hard on Cary. He always has been. He treats my brother’s issues like they’re all his own fault, and punishes him for it, with judgment and criticism and callousness. My brother has never had a safe place to fall down in this family.”
“What about you?” I said gently.
“I try,” she said, tearing up. “But I’m his little sister. By fourteen years. I don’t always have what it takes. That’s what Gabe was for. Gabe was his brother in every way. The brother he needed. He was so lost when Gabe died…” She stopped, wiping her tears away. “My parents stopped coming around. My dad said they wouldn’t talk to Cary unless he ‘collected himself.’ I was the one who found him on the floor of the studio when he’d fallen apart. He basically had a nervous breakdown. He had a panic attack and fainted and he was all alone. I was so scared. I begged him to see a therapist after that. But even when he was getting help… Mom would listen a bit when he told her about it, but all she wanted to hear was that he was getting better. ‘Don’t depress me with the details.’ There’s one of her classic sayings for you. And my dad didn’t even want to hear about therapy. I think he’s under some fucked-up illusion that real men shouldn’t need therapy.”
“This is all very fucked-up, Courteney,” I told her. “I hope you know that. The lack of support they give him… it’s not okay.”
“Oh, I know. It never felt right to me, even when I was a kid. And the way they treated me after Gabe’s death was almost as bad. They practically pretended like it didn’t happen. They ignored my feelings about it. It was like they expected me not to mourn, to just pick up and carry on. I was so, so angry with them. And that was nothing compared to what Cary went through. Gabe was his best friend.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand how your parents could be so cold about it.”
“I don’t think they’re cold. I don’t think they don’t feel. I think they just try to pretend they don’t so they can ignore it and avoid suffering. But my mom has anxiety attacks of her own. They should understand what Cary goes through, because she’s suffered from anxiety all her life. That’s probably a lot of where my brother gets it from. But her way of coping with her son’s problems is denial. She won’t accept that Cary has any serious problems because God forbid anyone actually blame her for anything. It’s all about her. It always has been. And my dad just can’t accept flaws or weaknesses. He coddles my mom’s anxiety because she worships him in return. He’s number one with her and she’s number one with him, and then my brother and I are kind of seen and not heard. But not really seen either, you know? They just expect us to be perfect and that’s all they want to see. It’s like, they think Cary should be just fine, so they convince themselves that he is. And then they conveniently forget to respect his needs.” She sighed again. “I’m sorry. This probably makes no sense