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“Casey. Tommy’s parents are bringing him to the gym. They’ve been having a rough time with him,” he says, his voice finally breaking through, and I can feel all the air in my chest crushing out.
It’s like Chase is bear hugging me. No air, just a reeling feeling.
“What do you mean a rough time?” I ask.
Tommy’s shining light in the world was his son. He loved the child more than any other parent I’ve seen love a child. Casey was Tommy’s very reason for being. He was also one cool ass kid, a little diamond of awesome.
“He’s twelve, Emmett. He’s lost his father. He’s drowning in depression and as lost as you are,” Dale says with a voice filled with sadness. “He ain’t the same kid. I know that is to be expected, but he’s now just a shell.”
“Yeah man, we’ve been trying to get through the walls he’s got surrounding him… But it ain’t working,” Bear says quietly.
Looking to the three men who surround me, I feel trapped. Trapped by my own grief, rage, and shame. “What the fuck do you think I can do?”
“Something besides being a fucking waste,” Dale shouts as he pushes on my chest.
A waste. That’s all I am. A waste. I don’t need to be near someone as fucked up as me. I’d just ruin them.
Edging up into my personal bubble, Dale puts his nose right up against my own. “Be a fucking stand-up person for fucking Tommy. His son is dying from the inside out and you can’t be fucking bothered to even pick up a fucking phone when his grandparents call you!”
He’s right. Every time the phone rings, I push it to my message box. Which, besides the one from Tommy, have all gone unheard. I’m pretty sure the box is full by now, especially since the phone never rings anymore.
Or maybe it isn’t full… maybe everyone has given up on me. They probably should.
“Fuck it!” Dale roars into my face when I don’t respond back. “Let’s go guys, fuck this shit. We’ll figure something else out.”
Shaking his massive head, Bear just looks from me to Dale. “Nah, I’ll get a ride back on my own.”
Fuck.
Watching Dale and Chase leave the house gives me more dread than I’d like to admit.
Dread, lots of it. Dread that this is the last chance I have of stopping what’s surely going to be an early death. Dread that Bear is standing silently behind me, the complete lack of judgement searing into my body. Maybe I’d be happier if he was judging me, like Chase and Dale surely are right now.
Turning to face him, I say tiredly, “You don’t want to stay around here, it’s only going to get worse.”
“You planning on drinking till you pass out?” he asks just as quietly.
There’s no judgement in his features and it hurts me even more. Why, I can’t figure out, but it does.
“More than likely,” I say and walk past him.
I can’t look him in the face anymore.
Heading for the kitchen, I hear and feel him walking behind me. Whatever. I need a drink.
Pulling an unopened bottle of rum out of the cabinet, I watch as Bear walks over to another cabinet and pulls two glasses down.
“You ever drink like a civilized person?” he asks as he walks past me to the living room.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask loudly, following him out to see him already making himself at home on the couch.
“I’m drinking with you,” he says.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on restriction?” I ask, eyeing him.
“Nah, that was last month,” he answers. “I’m taking off for a couple of months. Grace is pregnant again and it’s getting closer to the due date. I figure I shouldn’t make Hope do so much work with her mama and little sister, then add another one.”
“The fuck? You trying to field your own cheerleading squad?” I ask with a laugh.
