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It was just a shower.
But showers are sometimes the best experience in the world and other times like climbing Mt. Everest.
Hard as hell.
It took the brothers a team effort to drag him out of his self-imposed hibernation to encourage a shower. Scott physically hauled him out of bed, John would sit beside him when he was wallowing on the bathroom floor. Virgil returned to his task that he had when they were younger, making him strip down almost completely naked and sit on the floor of the tub.
Gordon would try to coax a smile or a laugh.
It never worked.
Happiness for him, just, simply didn’t exist.
They took him to a doctor and were told what they already knew.
Clinical depression was different for everyone.
Most people who pictured a person with clinical depression often imagined a person crying in bed all day and every day. But it wasn’t just that. Sure, he sometimes cried. And he didn’t even know why.
Sometimes it was a song playing on the radio.
Other times it was because he woke up.
It didn’t make sense. And they’d trialed all kinds of medications, without luck. Some were uppers and made Alan so insanely happy that it was like they’d be witnessing the end of the world in a matter of moments because he smiled. It was a little scary. Others had no effect and just made Alan sleep because he had no desire to do much else.
But the fact of the matter was that Alan didn’t want to bathe every day. It’d been two weeks since his last shower. Every request or reminder to bathe was met with an indifferent shrug or something less exemplary.
So, the brothers took it upon themselves to make Alan take a bath.
They gave him a variety of vitamins rumored to improve his levels, promising to reduce depression symptoms.
Nothing helped.
Their grandma just reminded them that depression never went away. Not completely.
And there was no quick fix.
Sometimes, the only thing that depression required was an understanding family, love, snuggles and support. Grandma reminded them that she was not unfamiliar with depression. It was very prevalent in their family. Both of Grandma’s parents had it and their grandfather had it when he was Alan’s age.
It wasn’t just teenage moodiness either.
The condition was real, and it made it virtually impossible for Alan to attend class. He didn’t care enough to get out of bed to eat, let alone get out of bed, bathe, dress and go socialize for eight hours, five days a week.
The brothers were worried. They’d admitted Alan to a medical facility when they realized he was self-harming, attempting to cope with a condition that he barely understood nor cared to learn more about.
“Alan, come on kiddo. You need to take off your shirt too.” Virgil coaxed, watching as Alan stared blankly ahead, legs crisscrossing in the tub and slumping forward tiredly. Taking pity on Alan, Virgil grasped the hem of Alan’s shirt and pulled it over his head, breathing shallowly through his mouth because teenage body odor was not something to joke about. “Alright, let’s get you nice and squeaky clean. How does that sound?”
As expected, Alan didn’t reply.
He barely spoke anymore, his depression hitting him hard and having no mercy.
“Alright.” Virgil turned and closed the door, so it was just him and Alan alone in the bathroom and he started the water. He picked up the hand nozzle and doused Alan with the lukewarm water, watching as Alan flinched at the change of temperature.
He usually complained that he felt cold, often numb on the inside. He couldn’t get warm.
Virgil wished that the love his brothers had for him was enough to start a fire inside Alan, give him the spark of life that he hadn’t had since he was twelve. Virgil worried that the depression would never go away.
He missed it when Alan was a lively little shit.
He missed his smile, his laugh, his energy. And Alan didn’t go anywhere, he was still there! But Virgil missed who he was, who he had been. Because this new Alan was terrifying. It was like a changeling had taken his place.
“Lift your arms for me kiddo.” Virgil asked, scrubbing a soapy cloth beneath Alan’s armpits. “If I look away, can you get your downstairs?”
The most answer Alan gave was a slow nod and Virgil turned away to gather the shampoo and conditioner bottles while Alan cleaned his more private bits.
It was the most initiative he’d seen from Alan in a long time.
Virgil turned back to Alan; a palm full of shampoo that smelled like apples. It was Alan’s favorite scent when he was a kid.
“Close your eyes for me, please.” Virgil sat on the rim of the tub and began sudsing Alan’s hair.
The oil in his hair was thick, his hair needed the washing. The strands were stringy and clumped together. Virgil knew that Scott and John were stripping Alan’s bed and changing the linens.
Some people that knew of Alan’s depression accused the family of pandering, playing into his game.
But the mental health of their youngest family member was no joking matter. If Alan didn’t have the energy to do for himself, that was what his family was for. They were there to pick up his slack.
Love him unconditionally.
Give him the time he needed to find his way through the mental minefield that was the inner workings of his life.
So, until Alan could fight the war in his head and win, his family would be there to catch him when he fell.
“Okay, gonna rinse you.” Virgil said softly, holding the nozzle close to Alan’s hair and watching as the shampoo raced down the drain.
Virgil noticed as he turned to pick up the conditioner from the floor beside his knee that some rivulets fell fast from Alan’s eyes. He didn’t think anything about hugging his waterlogged little brother, instead he just turned his head and closed his eyes.
Alan’s tears increased in numbers and intensified as he tried to catch his breath.
“Virgil, I don’t like being like this. I miss me!” Alan cried, sniffling as he was turned around and nestled against Virgil’s chest. “I’m broken and I don’t know why!”
“You’re not broken. It’s okay.” Virgil reassured, deciding that Alan didn’t need his hair conditioned and turned off the water. He draped a big fluffy towel over Alan’s back and hugged him tightly. “You’re okay.”
“No, I’m not! I’m drowning!” Alan admitted, tears falling harder and faster.
“I understand.” Virgil said, sighing as he toweled Alan off and helped him stand up. “I’m here.”
“I know you are, but I can’t control the way I feel. Medicine isn’t helping and I feel like I’m going out of my mind!” Alan changed his undershorts, uncaring that he was baring it all in front of Virgil. “I just want to get better and there is no light at the end of the tunnel!”
“Not even a smidgen? No light shaped like the twelve or more people that love you and only want to see you better?” Virgil asked, choosing his words carefully to not upset Alan further.
“Not even a twinkle.” Alan admitted, hanging his head sadly.
“Then that’s okay. Sometimes the road we go on is a long and arduous journey. There are dozens of pitfalls. You just must take each obstacle day by day.” Virgil said, pulling Alan into a hug. “But please hang in there. I know it seems endless, but we’re here for you when and if you ever need us. We love you, so much.”
“Then why doesn’t it feel like love will ever be enough?” Alan asked, burrowing into Virgil’s arms, and soaking in his warmth.
“Because you’re on empty. If you think of it as a vehicle, you can’t go anywhere with no fuel. You can barely get the vehicle started. But that’s where your family comes in. We’re the towing company that will tow you to the service station. Don’t give up on us. We’ll always be ready to help, you just have to say the word.”
Alan didn’t say anything, instead just nodding against Virgil’s chest and sighing.
The warmth of his brother’s hug felt like it was beginning to thaw the hard freeze that was frozen around his soul.
“Hey Virg?” Alan asked, voice soft like a whisper.
“Yeah?” Virgil asked, unsure what Alan wanted but glad for the interaction. This was the most like the old Alan he’d seen in years.
“Could you, maybe, step outside so I can take a real shower?” Alan didn’t feel like he had the energy to even stand, but his mind craved a real shower.
“Can we compromise?” Virgil questioned, feeling his heart swell with pride that Alan was trying.
It was more than he could ask for.
“Sure.” Alan asked as he looked up at Virgil’s chocolate brown eyes.
“I’ll stay in the room in case you need me, but I’ll just keep my back turned?” Virgil asked, wanting to be near if Alan suddenly felt weak or like his lack of energy returned with a vengeance.
“Deal.” Alan said as he stripped back down, glad for Virgil and his caring nature.
Alan climbed back in the shower, closing the curtain, and turning on the water, making it hot enough to boil himself red like a lobster. He couldn’t help it and he groaned loudly, sighing as the heat penetrated deep into his muscles and warmed him enough to feel human.
Virgil was sitting on the closed toilet lid and wrinkling his brows in embarrassment.
“Do I need to step outside to give you and the shower a little one on one time?” Virgil asked, his cheeks heating up.
“No, it just feels so good.” Alan replied, voice melting with the heat of the water.
“How about you save the orgasmic vocals for a time when they’re really necessary and just enjoy your shower?” Virgil questioned, ready to rip his ears off.
“Sorry.” Alan replied, voice softening.
“No kiddo, I’m sorry. I just haven’t heard you act like this in such a long time and it’s weird hearing you be…you again. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m just being a prude.” Virgil apologized, focusing instead on unfolding and refolding Alan’s clean pajamas.
“Do you think one day I’ll get better?” Alan questioned softly.
“I’d like to think so, whether it’s with the help of medicine or through your own resolve. Whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes.” Virgil said, listening to the shower run and the click of the body-wash bottle as Alan began bathing with more energy than he’d had earlier.
“Hey Virg, where’s my shampoo and conditioner?” Alan asked as the curtain billowed, having been bumped with Alan’s arm.
“Oh, it’s here.” Virgil stood up and handed both bottles through the curtain to Alan’s waiting hands.
“Thanks, Virg.” Alan replied, the scent of apples filling the room again. Virgil took comfort in the fact, and he just waited for the shower to end.
“Don’t mention it.” Virgil said as he reclaimed his spot on the toilet lid. He looked up at the billowing steam dancing around the room and glanced over when the shower turned off.
A wet, pruned hand exited the curtain and fumbled for a towel. Virgil placed it in Alan’s reach and smiled when the warm fabric disappeared into the shower. Alan exited the shower and slumped on the side of the tub.
“Feel better?” Virgil asked as he picked up a smaller towel and plopped it over Alan’s head.
“Mm-hmm.” Alan replied. Not at all as energized as he had been previously.
“Just take the moments as they come kiddo. Depression doesn’t last forever, but we’re here when you need us.” Virgil said softly, pulling Alan’s head into his chest and holding him. “I love you, kiddo.”
“I love you too.” Alan whispered back, glad for his brother’s understanding.
“Come on, let’s get you dressed and back to bed. I’ll fix you some hot chocolate.” Virgil prompted.
“Do you think we could have chocolate chip pancakes instead?” Alan asked, pulling back to grace his brother with his blue-eyed gaze.
Virgil smiled, glad that Alan was still relatively happy.
“Of course, kiddo.” Virgil replied, helping Alan to dress and ruffling his damp locks with a smile. Alan gave him a wobbly smile with moist eyes.
This was a day in the record books. Alan talked, cried, bathed, smiled and asked for food.
Even if Alan couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, Virgil could. Some days would be crap and others would be better than he could imagine.
They just had to take it day by day.
The End