12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Bronx had dealt with the uncertainty of sobriety a hundred times over but he managed to come out of that dark period in his life still feeling like he was a productive and creative musician.
But what was currently going on inside his ears and head was so much worse than recovering from the booze and drugs, and this, he wasn’t sure he’d survive.
Whatever this issue was, if it persisted then he guessed it had the potential to end his career.
Fear alone kept him continuing to ignore the obvious worsening of the situation.
If he were honest with himself he’d admit his hearing loss was getting a little worse with every passing hour since they wrestled on the floor.
He was worried sick that the problem could continue until he was unable to hear anything at all.
What happened then? He tried to think of one deaf musician who was still performing professionally with a band and came up with Roger Daltrey from the Who.
He was the only musician who came to mind.
Bronx wasn’t sure how Roger was able to perform at his elite level without being able to hear the subtleties of the music, but nonetheless, Roger was still performing.
He grabbed his acoustic guitar and stretched out on the bed with his back up against the headboard.
His fingers dragged over the strings and the beautiful, melodic sound he expected to hear wasn’t there.
What he heard instead was sort of like a dull vibration and even that sounded hollow, as if he were playing the instrument under water.
He played a few chords, strummed a few running bursts of notes and none of what he was playing fully registered in his brain.
This could not be happening, Bronx thought.
He tossed his guitar beside him on the bed as if it were burning his fingers.
Bile began to rise in his throat and his stomach tightened into knots.
He quickly rolled off the mattress to run to the bathroom but the room began to spin.
He was on his way down to the floor when he reached for the bedside table to gain stability but instead he only managed to topple the table along with himself.
The items on top of the table crashed to the floor and he felt pieces of something sharp digging into his palm as he tried to break his fall.
A moment later the bedroom door burst open and Cavalari filled the open doorway. “What the hell happened?” he asked as he rushed over to help Bronx up off the floor. Bronx didn’t hear every word but caught enough pieces of Cavalari’s question to make sense of it.
“I don’t know,” Bronx grumbled. “I think my feet got tripped up on something.”
Cavalari bent over and tried to slide his arms under Bronx’s arm pits to give him leverage to lift him off the floor. Bronx did his best to push away Cavalari’s hands on him and even balked at needing assistance but Cavalari ignored him and managed to ease Bronx back up onto the edge of the bed.
“Stay put,” Cavalari directed with a firm hand gesture aimed at the spot on the bed he was sitting.
“I’m going to go get the hand-held vacuum from the closet up front and I’ll get the mess cleaned up.
” Cavalari hurried out of the room and returned to find Bronx picking broken pieces of something from his hand.
“Jesus, how bad is it? Do I need to take you to the ER?”
“What’d you say?” Bronx questioned.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Stop mumbling!” Bronx yelled.
“I’m not mumbling!” Cavalari grabbed Bronx by the shoulders and gave him a soft shake to get his full attention. “If you can’t hear me then we’ve got a much bigger problem than your bleeding hand.”
“Just get me a Band-Aid and we’ll be done with this,” Bronx argued. “Besides, I’m willing to bet the closest hospital is hundreds of miles from where we are right now.”
“I’ll get the first aid kit from the kitchen,” Cavalari said and disappeared a second time.
When he returned he sat down beside Bronx on the bed.
They were so close their shoulders bumped and Bronx could feel the heat wafting off of Cavalari.
It seeped into his bones and made his body start to react.
“Hold out your hand and let me see the damage,” Cavalari requested.
“What?”
“Give me your hand,” Cavalari requested.
Bronx focused on what he thought he’d heard because Cavalari wasn’t looking at him and that made Bronx wonder if he’d done that on purpose—as a test.
“You’re not articulating,” Bronx answered.
“We’re sitting inches away from each other. You sure as hell should have heard me speak.”
“I pretty much did, so let it go,” Bronx stated.
Cavalari gently cleaned Bronx’s palm with an antiseptic liquid and double-checked the skin to make sure he’d removed all the broken fragments. “I’m going to cover this up with a bandage just to keep it clean while it starts to heal.”
When he’d finished working on Bronx he set his injured hand onto his thigh and turned sideways to face him.
He touched Bronx on the shoulder to get him to look at him.
“Now we’re going to have a little chat and you’re going to do your level best to hear me,” Cavalari explained.
“Nod if you understand what I just said.”
“Go to hell,” Bronx grit out and he immediately pushed himself off the bed to leave. Cavalari was quick to respond and stood up to step right into his space. His gaze was intense and Bronx knew enough about his guard not to push him when he got like this.
“Sit. Down,” Cavalari said tersely. “We’re going to have this discussion whether you want to or not.”
Bronx glared at Cavalari as he plunked his ass back down onto the bed, then released a long breath. “I’m thinking about calling my sponsor,” he said after what seemed like an endless pause.
“Why? What’s going on that makes you feel you need to talk with your sponsor?
” Cavalari asked while keeping his face aimed in Bronx’s direction.
He watched Bronx study his lips as he spoke and hoped he was able to read them to know what was being said.
If nothing else, this conversation would be a test to see how bad things were for Bronx.
Bronx blinked up at him but didn’t respond. Cavalari could see so many emotions swirling in his warm hazel eyes but what made his heart hurt was the fear he saw shimmering there and the creases of worry in his brow.
“Listen to me,” Cavalari said. “You can absolutely trust me. I take this job and the relationships I build very seriously. I will not let you down and I will never reveal your secrets. Tell me what’s going through your head.”
Several times Bronx opened his mouth to speak then changed his mind.
Finally, he closed his eyes and exhaled loudly.
“I’m so fucking scared,” he whispered, as if saying the words too loudly made it even more real.
“I don’t know what this means for my future.
This band is all I have. If I lose this gig then what will be left of me?
The more I think about the what ifs, the bigger this thing grows inside of me and that makes me want to drown myself in a bottle of Jack. ”
“You’re not kissing off a decade of sobriety on my watch,” Cavalari said firmly. “If you need to talk that through with your sponsor, then do it. But just so you know, I’m also happy to be a sounding board and the conversation stays here with us.”
“Do you have sponsor skills on your long list of things you’re capable of doing?” Bronx asked and attempted a smile but didn’t even come close to any kind of levity to reach his face.
“I’m not a certified sponsor but I am capable of helping,” Cavalari said. “Are you struggling with the urge to drink right now?”
“I want to guzzle a bottle of booze so bad I can hardly breathe but I know that won’t solve anything,” Bronx said. “It’ll only make me feel worse when I wake up still drunk and realize I still can’t hear for shit. The worst part is, I’d no longer be able to say I’m clean and sober.”
“Exactly,” Cavalari agreed. “The alcohol doesn’t fix your life issues—it just puts it all under the microscope once you sober up.”
Bronx sighed. “I’m not one hundred percent sure what you said, but I think you’re wise beyond your years.”
“I’m just a perceptive, old bastard,” Cavalari shrugged.
“Being on the police force and in the military taught me how to truly read people and their behaviors. It doesn’t usually take long for me to figure out who they are at their core and what’s going on inside their head or what their next move will be.
Having instincts like that has kept me alive during more than one call I went out on. ”
“I’m not an old bastard—you are,” Bronx scoffed.
“Not what I said,” Cavalari answered and changed his position again to better face Bronx.
“How bad is it right now—the hearing issue? Do you think it’s getting worse?
” Bronx fidgeted on the bed but said nothing.
Cavalari placed his index finger under Bronx’s chin and lifted his head up to meet his gaze. “Trust me with this. Please.”
“You’re asking a lot,” Bronx said softly. “None of this is easy for me.”
“I know and it’s why you do your best to keep everyone at arm’s length—even those you consider family, like Dagger.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Bronx agreed.
“Put your faith in me,” Cavalari said. “I won’t let you down and I might actually be able to help.”
Bronx shook his head. “Highly doubtful you’ll be able to help,” he said.
“Then I can be someone for you to lean on and share this burden,” Cavalari said.