Buthe wasn't biting.
“Youwere so close to your dad, man.” Without another word, I nodded, moving my eyesaway from his. “How've you been doin' with ... you know, resisting temptation?”
Thisis what happens when you make friends in rehab. They know shit about you. Theyunderstand shit you wish they didn't. They can sense your triggers withoutasking, and they can see straight through the bullshit you try to lay on toothick. I felt vulnerable. I felt truly seen for the first time in weeks, andsuddenly, home didn't feel so bad. But I couldn't run now, and this is whathappens when you make friends in rehab; you can tell them things you wouldn'tdare say to anyone else.
“Igotta be honest, it hasn't been easy.”
Henodded sympathetically. “I bet.”
“Sometimes,I just wanna get completely wasted, just to turn this shit off.”
Hewinced and asked, “You really think you should be here, then?”
Ilaughed and raked a hand through my hair. “I dunno, man. It's always helped towatch other people drink, so I thought ...” I shrugged, glancing at a guy,sipping at his beer. The condensation on the glass drew my attention first,then the bubbling brew inside, and my mouth watered.
“Youthought wrong, huh?”
Inodded, unable to look away. “Yeah.”
Ifelt his knuckles against my shoulder and I tore my eyes away from the man andhis beer to face my friend and the concern written on his face. He offered acompassionate smile but I wished it was a hug. I wished he'd open up his big,Viking arms and tuck me inside. To comfort me and make me feel better. Toprotect me from the storm relentlessly beating against my heart. But what kindof man would I be to ask for that? And what kind of man would give it?
“Gohome, man.”
“I'mokay,” I lied. “Just get me a Coke and some wings and I'll be good.”
AndI sort of was, after three glasses and two rounds of the best BBQ wings NewYork City had to offer. I chatted with Goose, telling him about how things weregoing at the restaurant. He laughed when I asked what he was up to, spreadinghis arms wide.
“You'relookin' at it, man. Same shit, different day.”
“Youneed a woman,” I said, dropping another bone into the bowl.
Hesighed, shrugging as he went back to work polishing the bar. “I don't have timefor a woman.”
“That'swhat I thought, too, until I met Andy.” I smiled at the taste of her name,remembering the way she felt this morning, naked and wrapped in my arms. “I dunnowhat I'd do without her right now. I'd probably go insane.”
“Well,you're already insane, so that’s not sayin’ much,” Goose jabbed, smirking.
“Yeah,maybe, but at least I got a girl who finds it endearing. You got nothin' butMrs. Right,” I teased back, holding up my right hand and waggling my fingers.
“Joke'son you, fucker,” he laughed, lifting his other hand, with the middle fingerraised. “I'm a lefty.”
Itfelt good to joke around, like I was free from temptation and turmoil. Butthen, Goose said, “Speaking of women, I actually saw yours in here recently,”and I was reminded that I wouldn't be seeing her later that night.
“Oh,yeah?”
Henodded. “She came in with this really hot chick. A friend, I guess, but sheseemed to leave pretty pissed off.”
“Hotchick?” I screwed up my face, trying to think. Andy didn't have many friends.There was Elle, a nurse she hung out with on occasion, and she mentioned aJamie every now and then. But while Elle wasn't unattractive, I wouldn't havedescribed her as really hot, and Jamie, she said, lived close to her house onLong Island. I couldn't think of a reason why she'd come all the way here.“What did she look like?”
“Dude,this was a few weeks ago, I don't remember.” I leveled him with a knowing glareand he easily relented. “Okay, fine. She was tall, blonde, curly hair. Shelooked like a fuckin' model.”
Inodded as my curiosity got the better of me. So, later on, when I’d finally hadenough Coke and wings and conversation, I dared to go home, calling Andy beforeI had to face the silence alone.
“Hey,”she answered on the first ring, just as I turned the knob.
“Hey,sweetheart.”
“Howare you doing tonight? You okay?”
