Iam not jealous of my brother, I had to remind myself, as Ichuckled and said, “They’re stealthy as fuck, man. And small. Small fits insmall places.”
“Andit doesn’t help that this house is so damn big,” he grumbled. “If we were atthe old place in Brooklyn, this wouldn’t be a fuckin’ problem, you know whatI’m sayin’?”
Ismiled at the mention of our childhood home and how funny it is that the placeswe grow to despise, become the places we miss the most. “Yeah, well, you canfind anything in a shoebox,” I said, before taking a long drag from thecigarette and pinching it between my fingers.
Smokefilled my lungs and I imagined I could feel them twist and char from the poisonbefore I exhaled into the dark night. It painted the sooty, black sky with aswirl of grey, before fading into nothing, like it had never been there at all.
“Yougot a point there,” he grumbled, then asked, “So, what’s up?”
“Can’tI call my favorite big brother?”
“Imean, youcan,” he said, “but you don’t. You’re too cool to call. Youtext.”
Sniffinga laugh, I nodded to the sky. “It’s true.”
“So,tell me what's up while I look for this kid.”
Suddenly,I couldn't remember why I thought calling would be a good idea. Z and I hadgone through the war together but, from what I could tell, he wasn't fightingthose demons anymore. I knew there was some residual temptation—that’s whatkept him from drinking or partying, too—but I doubted it was still abattle.Not like it was for me, regardless of how infrequently I was drafted intocombat.
“Popsjust asked me why I used,” I admitted quietly, feeling uncomfortable but seeingno point in lying to him.
Therewas a pause on the other line, then Zach said to someone else, “Hey, tell IzzyI had to use the potty.” Then, I waited what felt like an eternity for him toclose a door and say, “He actually asked you that?”
“Yeah.”
“Holyshit,” he muttered. “Why did he say anything?”
“Idunno. We were watchin'Breaking Bad, and out of nowhere, he justbrought it up.”
“That'sreally fuckin' weird.”
Yearsago, Pops had walked into the old apartment, just as Zach and I were in themiddle of our former favorite pastime, snorting coke. He threatened to kick usout if we didn’t get ourselves into rehab, and afterward, there had been someunderstandable trust issues. He had eluded to things and had silentlyspeculated, but he had never talked about it or asked questions. I’d alwaysjust assumed it was simply that he wasn’t much for expressing himself verbally,which was just fine because I wasn’t either. So, why he had brought it up afterso long like that was really fucking weird, to say the least.
“Yeah,man, I dunno. I mean, he’s been on aBreaking Badkick, so maybe that’sall it is,” I offered weakly, studying the swirls of smoke coiling from the tipof my cigarette. “I just needed to tell you about it. It was so fuckin’ … Idunno ...”
“Weird,”Zach repeated, and I nodded a silent reply.
***
“Junior.”
Thevoice came to me in sleep and I stirred, shaking my head against the pillow. Icouldn’t tell if I was awake or dreaming, and before I could open my eyes, Imuttered a grunted, “Huh?”
“Vinnie.”
Itwas Pops. His voice was gentle and quiet, but I couldn’t ignore the hint ofalarm.
Openingmy eyes and turning my head toward his voice, I saw him there, standing in theglow from the hallway that streamed seamlessly into my room. One of his handswas pressed to his chest, while the other gripped the door frame. Startled byhis stance, I was instantly alert and sat up.
“What’sgoin’ on?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Something’swrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t feel right.”
“Whatdoesn’t feel right?” I threw back the sheet and climbed out of bed. “Yourchest? Your heart?”
“I—”He shook his head and furrowed his brow. “I, I don’t know.”
Theold man would never admit that he needed to go to the hospital. Years ago, whenhe had his heart attack, it was Jenna who’d had to talk him into going. But, Ireminded myself, this time he had woken me up. He was alarmed enough toinadvertently ask for help, and so, I grabbed a shirt and a pair of sweatpantsand told him we were going.
