“What’s the almond milk for?”
“Cooking.” I sat down and poured myself a bowl. “Any other beverage-related questions?”
“Now that you mention it—” He laughed. “Would you mind picking up some regular Coke at the store next time? Or even the diet stuff. That fancy brand you have in the fridge tastes like booty.”
“It’s more natural,” I retorted. “Like a healthier kind of sweetener. I promise you get used to it.”
He shook his head. “Nah. I know my taste buds are probably shit-tastic since the drugs, but even I know the difference between something that tastes good and something that tastes like salad dressing and dirty dishwater had a baby.”
I snorted.
“Okay, champ. I’ll buy regular soda. No problem.”
Johnny dug back into his cereal, and I stole a sideways glance at him. He appeared healthier than I’d seen him in years. His cheeks glowed with color, and his face had filled out a bit. There were no flakes of skin around his hairline, lips, or underneath his nose. No mysterious bruises. Deck had brought over some of his clothes—easier for my brother to accept than letting me buy him a new wardrobe—and Johnny looked like a typical bro in a black sweatshirt and olive-green joggers.
I’d been staying home since Johnny checked himself out of rehab. He hadn’t decided on his next move, and it eased my mind to have my eyes on him. Funny how his almost dying had changed my perspective on keeping him close. I knew I’d eventually have to go back to the tough-love approach I’d taken before, but there was no rush on that. For now, I let myself enjoy spending time with the brother who’d been absent from my life for a long time, including when he’d been right next to me.
But even if Johnny wasn’t ready to step outside yet, I knew I had to. It scared me to leave him on his own, but I needed to keep my promise to Rosa.
“I’ll be back home by six,” I told him. “You have the phone I gave you. Don’t be afraid to use it if you need to. I plugged in mynumber, Deck’s, and even Marisol’s, just in case, since she works at the Center too.”
Johnny shook his head. “I can’t believe Deck’s little sister is, like, a grown-up woman.”
“She’s pretty awesome. I told Michael and María I’d have dinner with them soon. You should come. They’d love to see you.”
Johnny moved the spoon around in his bowl. “We’ll see.”
I circled the table to give him a hug. “No one’s judging. Especially not the Deckers.”
He shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
For now, I knew it was the only answer he would give me. Johnny’s recovery was so new, so tentative. Having dinner with friends probably seemed like the sort of thing other people did. Not him.
I decided to ask Deck about it when I saw him at the Center. Things had been different between us since the weekend. He’d come over—ostensibly to visit Johnny—a few times since then. We hadn’t shared another close moment like the one on my couch, but we’d progressed from awkward cordiality into something resembling familiarity.
Deck was in the bathroom off the gymwhen I arrived, working on his hands and knees. I stopped short in the doorway, distracted by the perfection of his jeans-clad ass. Catching myself before he clocked me staring, I averted my gaze and cleared my throat.
After exchanging good mornings and catching me up on some of the progress he’d made, I mentioned that Johnny was hesitant to have dinner with the Deckers.
“I get why Johnny might not be ready to hang out with my family,” Deck said, pulling up tile from around a hole in the floorwhere a new toilet would go. “I felt the same way when I got out of prison. It isn’t easy to pick up and resume a normal life after you’ve royally fucked up. It took me months to stop feeling like I had ‘ex-con’ tattooed across my forehead. He probably feels like ‘addict’ is on his.”
“Yeah, that tracks,” I said forlornly. “I wish it didn’t, but it does.”
Deck pointed at a folding table set up against the wall. “Can you hand me that scraper?”
I held up something that looked like a giant razor blade. “This?”
“Uh-huh. Thanks.”
I handed him the tool and leaned back against the door. “But even if it makes logical sense why he wouldn’t want to hang out and feel exposed, I can’t stop wishing I could help him get there faster. He needs to see that there are lots of people who have his back.”
Deck stopped what he was doing and sat back on his haunches, peering up at me. “He will, Cori. If he can stay clean this time, eventually he’ll start trusting it more. If he can string together a few good weeks in a row, it’ll help.”
“I just hate that he feels like he has to hide away, like he needs to be ashamed of anything.” Gripping the edge of the big trough sink, I stammered, “I regret all the times I turned him away. Even though he was using. I thought I was doing the right thing, but…” I hung my head.
Deck exhaled and rose to his feet, coming to stand behind me. “Don’t beat yourself up. You were doing the best you could. And like I said, Johnny will get there.”
I looked up and met Deck’s magnetic gaze in the mirror. “I think part of me wants to expedite the process because I spent so long sectioning Johnny off from the rest of my life,” I admitted. “It all seems so stupid in retrospect. Now that I’ve stepped awayfrom JBC, I see how meaningless it was to spend that much effort worrying about appearances. I want Johnny to know I’m not ashamed of him. Unfortunately, I haven’t given him much evidence of that.”
