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“I’ve been sitting with my chief since I left the scene early this morning. If you agree to go to rehab, you can avoid any jail time.”
Jail. How is this my life right now?
I swallow painfully, taking my time trying to answer him. I won’t cry like a little baby in front of him. After a few moments I clear my throat and try again. “How long?”
“Ninety days.”
“How long for jail?”
“You don’t want that, Bill-”
“How. Long.”
“It’s a felony and carries up to one year.” He looks down. “You’d probably get less as a first-time offender, but why risk it? They could also see your history and keep you longer.”
“My history.” I scoff. “I’d have no history if you wouldn’t have brought me in those other times.”
“Don’t point the finger at me,” he shouts, any semblance of professional detachment gone from his voice. “The one responsible here is you!”
He pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply through his nose as he gets control of himself. Then he says, softly, “Off the record, Bill? I’m fucking glad you wrecked last night. I’m glad something happened to wake you up. Because that call could have gone a lot different. You’re getting a second chance to redeem yourself and if you don’t take it, you’re a fucking fool.”
He turns his back on me, pacing away, then spins back on me, his eyes wild as he spits out, “Cocaine? Seriously!” He shakes his fist at me, visibly upset as he mutters, “How didn’t I see this? How did I let it get this bad?”
I’m angry, so fucking angry right now, I feel my blood racing through my veins. I’m hot and sweating and the monitor is beeping in pace with my galloping heart as my blood pressure increases.
I’m also embarrassed. I’m such a fucking idiot. I couldn’t control myself last night, and Vince is blaming himself, but I’m too much of an asshole to correct him.
“Seriously, think about this before you say another word. I have togo back to the station. I’ll send Adam in.” He turns away from me, but before he goes through the door, he stops. “Adley was here all night, just so you know.”
Adley and flashes of being at the bar come back to play.
“I know what you did to her! You don’t deserve her!”
What I’m doing is so much worse. I don’t deserve her, either.
The door opens once more, and Adam walks in. He grabs the chair from the corner, drags it to the side of my bed, and sits, his eyes solemn as he says, “You look like shit, brother.”
“You’re not so cute, either.”
He huffs a laugh which turns into a sob, and my eyes instantly water. I look at the ceiling, attempting to push back the inevitable fall as I say, “Adam, don’t-”
“I thought that was it, Bill.” Adam's voice is gruff, and he takes a ragged breath in as he says, “I thought that call at two in the morning was the final one. I don’t even worry about Tom, who’s halfway around the world, literally in combat zones, as much as I worry about you.”
He stutters, choking up to where he has to stop talking in order to collect himself enough to continue. He looks up, his eyes angry and hurt, his words low but full of that same anger and hurt as he whispers, “My little brother who lives across the street, literally two hundred feet away, and I worry every fucking night. Do you know that I don’t sleep until I see your truck parked in your driveway? Do you know that I miss going to bed with my girlfriend because I need to make sure my baby brother is home tucked in his own bed? Do you know how many texts I get from mom asking me to go over and check on you because you don’t answer the phone?”
With each question, his voice gets louder, but then he stops again and exhales as he sits back in the chair. “Mom knows about the drugs, Billy, and I bet that’s why she sends me over to your house. To make sure you haven’t overdosed. And that’s a whole other problem I have to handle because she knew and didn’t do anything about it. You think that’s fair?”
He pauses briefly and for a moment I think he’s waiting for me toanswer but then he shouts, “She sends her oldest son to make sure her youngest son is alive! Do you think any of this is fair to do to the rest of us?”
He rises from the chair and takes a deep breath then points at me, his voice quieter, but no less angry when he says, “Whatever deal Vince just gave you, you’re going to take. He told me it would more than likely be a reduced sentence because you’re a first timer, but rehab is your best bet. You have a problem and you’re the only one who can fix it. I can’t do this for you. If you don’t go, don’t call me for help. Don’t call me from behind bars. Don’t call me on my birthday. Don’t call me ever again. I will not live in a constant state of anxiety like this anymore.”
I let him vent his anger right now, but I’m mad, too. “Can I speak now?”
“What could you possibly have to say, Bill?”
“I know I have a problem! Okay? Is that what you want me to say? I know I’m a source of tension for you all. I know you all secretly talk about me, that I’ll never amount to anything. I know what the town says about me.” I mimic a voice not my own and whine, “The Casanova baby of the family, spoiled and out of control. The clueless one, just riding coattails. The one who couldn’t be alone when his twin left. The one who couldn’t get a job unless his brother pulled him in.”
“And that’s a reason to snort coke?” Adam asks incredulously, his voice rising as he asks, “Are you kidding me? How did that even become a thing?”
