“Thank you.” Mom turned to me, her eyes seeking out mine. “I mean it. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Noah needs to get clean again,” I said softly. “And Dad needs to detox.”
“Shh. Don’t let him hear you say that.” Mom looked around worriedly.
“Why? He can’t handle the truth, that he’s hooked on pills and an alcoholic?”
“He’s doing the best he can. The accident was—”
“The accident was because he was drunk,” I said. “He’s just lucky that he didn’t go to the hospital until after he’d slept it off or he wouldn’t be getting disability or anything else.”
“What’s for lunch?” Mom was the queen of deflection.
“I could boil some pasta and toss it with olive oil, tomatoes and mozzarella,” I suggested, since I’d bought what I needed and knew she loved it.
“Your food is always awesome,” she said softly.
I’d known she would want me to cook and that was okay. I loved to cook so I’d splurged on the ingredients for her favorite meal even though it cut into my savings.
“Okay, well, can you feed Dunkin while I cook?”
I’d bought kitty litter too but left it in the car because I was taking Dunkin home with me. At least she’d eat and have fresh water even though we weren’t around much.
I’d just put a bowl of pasta in front of Mom when Noah came in. God, he looked tired, and it was so sad because Noah had been a handsome guy before the drugs. I’d known he was using, but he hadn’t looked so gaunt since we’d sent him to rehab. He’d only stayed clean for a year and there was no money to send him back, but it still broke my heart to see him going through this. Most days, I was just glad he was still alive.
“What’s that?” he asked, peering into Mom’s dish.
“Lunch. You hungry?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Nah. My stomach’s off.”
“There’s ginger ale in the fridge and crackers in the pantry,” I said quietly. “That should settle your stomach.” I knew what he needed because I’d been watching him spiral for years. I just didn’t know how to help. I refused to dig into my college fund—again—just for him to fall off the wagon for the third time.
“Thanks.” I met Mom’s eyes and she shook her head slightly, indicating I shouldn’t say anything about how he looked. But damn, it was hard.
“So how’s it going?” I asked as I made him a plate.
“You know. Same shit.” He sank down at the table, running a tired hand through his stringy strawberry-blond hair.
“How bad is it this time?” I asked softly.
“Not so bad.” He met my gaze. “I’m drinking and smoking, but no meth.”
Thank god.
“You swear?”
“Yeah.” He looked away. “Not that it matters. I can’t keep a job, can’t get a girl, don’t even really have any friends left. It’s a shitty time to be me.”
“You think you could handle a busboy job?” I blurted out impulsively.
“Huh?” He looked up in confusion.
“If you eat and clean up, I know for a fact we need a busboy tonight. You up to it? It’ll pay cash, under the table, and it’s got to be better than sitting on the couch getting wasted again.”
He sat up a little straighter. “Uh, yeah. I can do that.”
“Let me text my boss.”
I was probably making a huge mistake, but he was my brother and it broke my heart to see him so defeated.
* * *
To my surprise, Noah was ready when I picked him up. His black pants hung low on his hips and I’d had to buy him a white button-down shirt, but he didn’t look bad for a drug addict who was probably drunk.
“You’re not high, are you?” I asked him.
He swallowed. “Had a shot of vodka to take the edge off, but I’m good.”
“Noah, I know you’ve had a hard time, but do not do anything to get me fired. If you’re going to get fucked up or can’t do the work, say so now.”
“No, I’m good. I can’t commit to full-time work, but I’m okay tonight.”
I nodded and pulled up to the shop. I’d been told we usually traveled to gigs in Marla’s van, depending on how many of us there were, so we didn’t have to show up in half a dozen vehicles. Some clients didn’t mind, but others did, so it was just easier this way. If there was more than five of us, Gordie would drive the company van and Marla would take her minivan as well. Tonight, there would be six of us and everyone seemed excited to meet Noah.
I’d explained to Marla that he’d been going through a rough time and that I didn’t expect any special treatment for him; if he messed up, she could fire him.
“Don’t worry so much,” she told me when we got to the event venue. “He doesn’t have access to money, so what’s the worst he could do? Say something inappropriate to a guest? I’ll fire him on the spot and that’ll be the end of it. He looks kind of lost, to be honest.”
“He is,” I said. “More than I know how to handle.”
“You can only do so much. It’ll be okay. Don’t worry. We were desperate for help tonight so if he screws up, it can’t be worse than not having any help at all.”
I hoped she was right because I didn’t want to lose this job.
“I’m starving,” Noah whispered to me a little while later. “Are we allowed to snack?”
“No, but if you ask Marla, she may let you grab a few bites outside.”
He hesitated. “Thanks, Bri. I mean it. It’s good to get out of the house.”
“You’re welcome.” I watched him approach Marla sheepishly, as I assumed he admitted he was hungry, and sure enough, she ushered him outside and was hopefully feeding him.
“It’s going to be okay,” Kiki said next to me. “You were honest that he’s a fuckup so this is his one chance. If he screws up, it’s not going to reflect badly on you. And she seems to be mothering him a bit, which I think he needs.”
“God knows, his actual mother is too busy mothering her husband,” I muttered. I loved my father, but he was unbearable when he was drunk.
“Just focus on one thing at a time,” Kiki said. “They’re adults. You’re not responsible for any of them. They’re your family, and you love them, but at the end of the day there’s only so much you can do for addicts.”
She was right, of course. I’d already spent too much of my life trying to fix my messed up family, but it was hard to cut all ties.
Gazing across the kitchen, I watched Gordie showing Noah what to do and sadness washed over me. Noah was okay today, maybe even good, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t last. It never did.
6
Bash
* * *
I’d been bummed that Brianna had snuck out on me, but as the day wore on, I figured it was for the best. My life was an epic clusterfuck right now and my roommate was in an even worse mood than I was. Ford had moved in with me when Nobody’s Fool went on the road since he’d lived in L.A. and had to sell his house. His mortgage had been high, without much equity, so he’d only made a small profit, and I’d offered to let him land here. I lived alone in a three-bedroom penthouse condo, with more space than I needed, and it was beneficial all around to make things work with the band. Especially for Ford and Stu, who didn’t have the success or the money the rest of us did.