https://youtu.be/Th58Emaz674

Elias

My mom literally sweeps Jersey off her feet the second she steps through the front door. No joke. Here I am, her second born, standing on the porch sweating through my clothes just trying to carry Jersey's stuff inside like the gentleman that I am, and my mom doesn't bat an eyelash in my direction.

The thing is, every time I come home (minus the time she forced me to because of rehab), she showers me with love.

Every. Single. Time.

People think big time events like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade are a huge deal. But it's got nothing on my mom's welcome home parties for me. There's always loads of food (all my favorites by the way), excessive amounts of hugs and kisses, and tears.

Tears of joy that only I can soothe away with my presence alone.

But look at her now. She hasn't looked at me once since I got out of the cab. Not. Once. So I figure I'll try the next best thing to get her attention. I wipe the sweat off my face with my free hand, place Jersey's bags in the front hallway, and then strategically position myself next to my mom so she has to notice me. But she doesn't.

She's too busy oohing and cooing over my girlfriend to realize that I'm there which---is unacceptable.

I straighten up, swallow my pride and throw my arms out so I can pull both my girls into a group hug. Very few women have had the honor of being able to share the arm span of the Elias King, so I tackle the two of them, and wait for the magic to happen.

"Got enough room for a little royalty, ladies?"

Jersey and my mom stop fawning all over each other and immediately shift their attention to me. Where it belongs.

"I'm sorry, did you just refer to yourself as--" Jersey says.

"A king. Yes. I did. And if I'm being honest, I'm feeling a little left out right now. Share the love niñas."

Jersey cocks an eyebrow and I get way too distracted staring at her adorably irritated face to notice my Mom's hand soaring towards the side of my head. She snatches my ear between her thumb and forefinger and bends me down until I'm eye level.

"Elias Alexander King, I did not raise you to be una persona egoísta que sólo se preocupa por sí mismo (a selfish person who only cares about himself). Stop complaining, put your things down, and go set the table while I show your beautiful novia (girlfriend) around the house."

I blink and my mom's already half way down the hallway ushering Jersey around like the daughter she never had. I leave my bags in the foyer and make my way towards the kitchen before my mom bites my head off for dragging my feet. Her place looks way different then it did last time I was here.

The furniture's all rearranged like the house got hit with a feng shui stick. My favorite couch has magically disappeared from the living room only to have been replaced by these yoga-looking cushions and floor mats. Last time I checked, my mom wasn't ever into sitting on the ground during her Ben and Jerry's movie nights.

Watching TV's supposed to be a lazy, comfortable, family activity. But now I can't even get my Netflix and chill on 'cause my chill space is gone. #NotChill

The only thing that looks remotely the same, is the old fireplace--aside from the fact that my mom's recently decked it out with triple the amount of framed pictures of Tanner and me than it used to have. Most of the photos on the mantle are ones from back when Tanner and I used to do everything together. Summers at the water park, us barbecuing with Dad in the backyard, typical pre-divorce family photo-ops. But there's one new addition to my mom's collection that catches my eye.

Right in the middle of the mantle is a tiny white and blue frame with me and Jersey's photograph inside. And it's not just any photo. It's the one from Belmar. The one I thought I lost after the rehab staff snatched it away from me. I nearly trip over my feet just trying to cross the room to look at it up close. I take it off the top of the fireplace and hold the frame in my hands like I'm holding onto an old memory.

Finding this photo was everything to me at one point. Back at rehab, I used to stay up nights trying to recall all the details of it just so I wouldn't forget any part of that day. But then, I started losing little bits and pieces of those memories. One day at a time.

The meds that were supposed to make me better made me foggy to the point where I couldn't think, eat, or sleep like I was supposed to. Couple months in, I lost track of how long I was even there, how long they'd been "treating" me, and how long it'd been since I'd actually seen Jersey.

The distance between me and my memories of her started to multiply every time they put me on a new dosage of pills.

And that was the truth nobody in my family would listen to. I told them I was losing my mind because of the meds and they told me that I was acting out. Tanner said that me blaming the meds for my problems was an "easy way out of having to take responsibility for what I'd done". I nearly broke the receiver hanging up on that phone call.

Nobody understood that I took responsibility for every single mistake I made the day I left Jersey. I chose stepping up for Mindy and keeping my promise to do rehab over a girl I shouldn't have left. Over a girl I was falling in love with. I took responsibility for everybody and everything else in my life.

Except for her.

And that was one of the worst mistakes I made that summer.

This picture is proof.

Proof that it happened, and proof that I'll never let it happen again.

"That's a new addition. Consider it a welcome home gift."

I turn around and find myself staring at the absolute last person I expect to see. Dan's standing in my living room, dressed to his version of the nines which is shocking, amazing, and tragic all at the same time. He's got on these perfectly ironed khaki pants, an overly starched button up, and a Hawaiian suit jacket.

Hawaiian.

Honestly, I love Dan. Really, I do. But the whole tropical jacket thing plus the hot pink house slippers my mom obviously let him borrow are not helping his style. He's great at fixing people's problems, but his wardrobe is a different situation.

"Dude, what the heck are you doing here? I thought you'd be outta town for the holidays!"

"Well, a little birdy let me know you were coming home for Thanksgiving so I decided to stick around. It's great to see you, Eli!"

I sprint across the room and pull Dan into a way overdue bearhug. Sometimes you gotta see a person face to face to realize just how much you've missed them. Dan's one of those people. He's got these dopey puppy dog eyes, shaggy brown hair, and this mousey-likable face that makes you feel like you've known him for your whole life--even though you haven't. He pulls away from me after a couple seconds, gives me a one-over, then smiles at me like the proud father-figure he's always tried to be.

"It's good to see you too, man! Are you sure this isn't an intervention? 'Cause I'm clean. Honest. I'll pee in a cup right now if you don't believe me," I say.

Dan lets out a sheepish laugh and then slips into an easy-going smile.

"If this was an intervention, would I be dressed up this fancy? I found this bad boy in a Tommy Bahama outlet downtown. What do you think? Classy but festive, right?"

Dan tugs on the lapels of his suit jacket and smiles way more proudly that he should. But hey, I gotta give it to the guy for trying. From the looks of it, this is probably his first Thanksgiving invitation anywhere.

Back when I was going through my "I-don't-wanna-talk-about-me-let's-talk-about-you-phase", Dan let his single and lonely card slip in the middle of a therapy session.

The dude's never had a girlfriend.

I mean, unless you count him dating a chick in his high school theater class who dumped him after a week. It's sad--mostly because Dan's a solid guy, but he sucks with women. Last time he tried to ask out one of the nurses at rehab, he showed up with a ten-page poem about how beautiful he thought she was.

I thought it was legit. She asked to be transferred to another facility. It broke his heart a little bit, but that just means she wasn't the one.

There's gotta be someone out there for the D-man.

Maybe after I get my act together with Jersey, I'll help him find a girl to go with that wacko suit and bow tie.

"Yeah, it's--interesting. Anyway, before my mom comes back, I wanted to thank you for everything you've been doing for me this past year. If it hadn't been for you pushing me to man up, write this book, and do right by Jersey, we probably wouldn't be here right now."

Dan reaches out and ruffles my already messed up hair before pulling me into another hug.

"Thanks, Eli. I appreciate it, buddy, but you're not giving yourself enough credit. You've been through a lot, and I gotta say I'm really proud of the man you're turning out to be, and so is your mom."

Could've fooled me. How can she be proud of me and then forget to shower me with praise when I walk in the front door. She's not proud of me. She's proud of my girlfriend.

"Is she now?"

Dan's eyes double in size from behind his glasses.

"She talks about you all the---she's been talking about you all afternoon. You should've seen her waiting at the window for your taxi to show up."

Yep. She still loves me. Good.

"Well, I am her favorite. Honestly, I don't know how life would've turned out for her if she hadn't decided to have me."

Dan rolls his eyes.

"Right, so the ego we still need to work on. Noted. But therapy aside, I'm really thankful that I've had the chance to build such an intimate relationship with both you and your mom."

Both of us?

"What do you mean? I know you did a lot for me, but it's not like your my mom's shrink---are you?"

Dan's eyes start doing that thing where they start twitching at the corners and my blood pressure spikes.

"No, not at all!"

Thank God.

"Good because if she's talking to you, she'll get you to spill all of my ugly, dark, raunchy secrets and I'd have to kill myself if that happened. She's a beautiful woman, Dan. She can get information out of any guy anywhere at the drop of a hat. Has she asked about me? Did you tell her anything about all that stuff I said?"

Dan smiles nervously and then reaches into his pocket to pull out a napkin to wipe the sweat off his brow.

"Of course not, Eli. I took an oath to protect my patient's confidentiality when I started this job."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I'm not allowed to tell anyone what goes on with my patients. Period."

Everything Dan's saying makes sense and should calm me down, but something's off. Maybe the fact that she invited him over early to "help her out" with dinner was really a chance for her to dig all my skeletons out of the Dan closet.

I've talked to this dude about every X-rated fantasy I've had about Jersey. Like, stuff I don't even want to repeat. He even read the letters I wrote to Jersey about how much I missed---certain physical activities, and if my mom ever saw those, she'd castrate me. No Joke.

Not only that, but Dan knows how many girls I hooked up with before Jersey and Lacey--and that number can never reach my mom's ears.

Ever.

In her mind, I'm practically a virgin. And even though she knows that I'm not, she probably thinks I've only slept with the girls I've dated--which I wish was true. That woman raised me to respect women as much as I respect her, but the thing is, I haven't. So Dan can never let her find out the truth.

Real Talk.

"Do you swear on that bogus jacket that you didn't tell her anything? She's nosey, Dan. She goes through my things, Dan. She quite possibly could work for the CIA, Dan, and she's probably got a dosey doe on me."

Dan places a wirey hand on my shoulder and lets out a long sigh which I'm not entirely sure how to read. If I didn't have anxiety problems, this conversation probably wouldn't bother me as much as it is. But my mind is a fun box filled with psychological issues so waiting for Dan to tell me the truth feels a lot like the early stages of a heart attack.

"Okay, look. I'd be lying if I said I never talked to Maria about you. We actually talk about you quite a bit. But not in the way that you think, and I definitely haven't told her anything we discussed in our sessions."

I stop breathing for a couple seconds. Mostly because my brain can't process what he's saying and keep my lungs running at the same time.

"Then--what do you talk to her about?!"

***

(Cliffy!!! Mwhaha :P Tune in on Sunday to find out what happens next! Thank you guys so much for reading and listening if you've been keeping up with the audiobook recordings (done by the awesome kaelking12). Can't wait to share the next update!)

QUESTION OF THE WEEK: What do you think Dan and Maria have been saying about Elias?

WEEKLY #REALTALK:

Kristen and I wanted to start a new mini-event in the comments here where you guys could share anything tough you're going through or anything you need to talk to someone/vent about life to. We're always down to talk and help out anywhere we can and we'd love to make this a cool little community where we can help each other deal with life with a little bit of #realtalk.

What do you think? Should we do this thing?

PS: If you have something you want to talk about comment here and we'll get back to you!