14. Alex
14
Alex
At his shocked look, she explained in a droll voice, "He was her supplier, so as far as I'm concerned, he's the reason she's dead. My mom OD'd right after I turned eighteen and moved out. I came by their apartment to check on her and found her sitting in front of the television." Juno's eyes got a far away look, and she almost smiled. "She looked so peaceful. Like she was sleeping." She took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh, then almost flippantly added, "Maybe if I hadn't been so anxious to fly the coop…"
"Juno." Alex couldn't come up with anything else to say. He thought of the burden of guilt he'd carried all these years about Jason, how even though he knew it was a decision his brother had made, that maybe, just maybe, if Alex had been a better friend to him, been more attentive, more aware, that maybe…
Like Juno, he could never finish that sentence either. Because there was always a 'maybe not' in there somewhere.
"I know," she said, shaking her head. "I know I couldn't have saved her. I think she was escaping just as much as I was. My father wasn't a nice man. He was downright scary, in fact. And the older I got, the meaner he got, probably because he knew he wouldn't be able to control me forever." She took a sip of her coffee. "I didn't want to leave Autumn Lake, Alex." She paused, pressed her lips together like she was trying to decide whether or not to admit something. "I was so scared that night. The next few weeks, months. Dad let it slip on the drive out of town that if whoever was after him caught up to us, we'd be worse than dead."
"I—I didn't know," he whispered, realizing after he said them that they were the exact same words she'd spoken about Jason.
She kept her eyes locked with his, but her hands were trembling. She was trying so hard to be brave. To be vulnerable and brave at the same time. They were two pitiful peas in a pod, weren't they? "I asked in my letters if you thought your parents might let me stay with you. In—in Jason's room while he was gone. So I could finish high school here."
The revelation of all that she'd just said hit him like a physical blow. He brought the heel of his palm to his chest, pressing it against the tightness that wrapped like a tension band around his ribcage. He was finding it hard to breathe. "You wanted to stay? With me?"
She simply nodded.
"I would have moved heaven and earth to make that happen, Juno." He gripped his coffee cup with both hands. "You have to know that."
For a moment, he wasn't sure she'd heard him, but then she nodded again, like she was still debating about whether she should believe him.
"I'm so sorry, Juno. For everything. For all of this. All this time. These misunderstandings between us. I wish I could go back and undo it all, start over." Now it was Alex who reached across the table, not quite touching her. "I would have answered your letters. I would have come for you. I would have chased you to the ends of the earth if I'd known you wanted to stay with me. I would have done anything to help you."
The scope of what they'd lost sat like a heavy raincloud between them. Juno stared at his hand where it sat only inches from hers, palm up. Then she met his eyes again.
"What happened last night, Alex?" Her voice was so quiet, he had to lean forward to make out her words. "Why did you show up here like that?" She graciously didn't say 'plastered' or 'stone-cold drunk,' almost like she was purposefully allowing him to maintain a modicum of dignity.
Alex's stomach clenched, and he let out a slow exhale. This was the part he didn't know how to explain. How did he tell her about the last fifteen years of his life? About Jason. About Lena. About Melissa. About the mess he'd made of everything.
"I didn't come here in that state, Juno. Drunk, I mean." If she wasn't going to say it, he would. It was part of his penance, after all. "I came here to talk, to clear the air between us, and to clear my conscience, I suppose." He sighed and withdrew his hand; she obviously wasn't ready for any physical contact between them.
"So where did the whiskey come from?"
Alex sighed again.
He needed to stop doing that. He sounded like a whiny baby. "I found it stashed under my truck seat from back when I was drinking. I intended to throw it away—" But that wasn't the truth, was it? Hadn't he been more than a little relieved at the thought of that bottle still being there? "Actually, I made the decision to believe the 'just one sip' lie." He said, holding up his index finger. "There's no such thing for an alcoholic."
Juno nodded solemnly. "But why? What happened? Is it just because you found out about the letters?"
Did that mean she believed him when he said he'd never gotten them?
He slowly shook his head. Thankfully, the room stayed where it was. "Learning about the letters gave me the courage to come, but the reason I came here was—is—because I want to fix this broken stuff between us." He gestured between them. "I can't stand it, Juno. I don't want you to hate me—"
"I don't hate you, Alex," she interrupted, sliding her cup to the side so she could rest her forearms on the table in front of her. "I don't know if I like you, exactly, but I don't hate you. I never have."
Alex grimaced. "Well, maybe you don't know me so well anymore. Maybe if you did know the real me, you'd think differently."
Juno narrowed her eyes at him. "And who is that? The real you?"
He opened and closed his mouth three times before he found any words, and even then, they weren't what he'd planned on saying. But once they started, it felt almost impossible to reel them back in. "For a long time after Jason died, I was just... surviving. Going through the motions. The drinking made it easier to pretend everything was fine."
"And the women?" The question wasn't accusatory, just curious.
Alex felt his face warm. "The women." He couldn't deny he had trouble there, too. "Yeah." He let out a snort of disgust; not at the ladies he'd entertained, but at himself for being that kind of guy. "I heard through the grapevine that you all are calling them my 'Summer Sizzlers,'" he said with a sheepish look.
A hint of a smile touched her lips. "You're welcome."
"You came up with that?" He dramatically pressed his hand to his chest. "Ouch."
She shrugged. "If the high heel fits…" She dipped her head toward his booted foot extending out from under the table. "Or the boot. By the way, where are your crutches?"
Alex waved a hand as if to swipe the question out of the air. "I got rid of them several days ago. And yes, I got the all-clear from the doctor." He reached down and rapped his knuckles against the hard plastic frame of the brace. "Just the boot now."
"Well, like I said, 'If the boot fits….'" But then she grew serious. "I don't get it."
Alex waited for her to continue. He didn't want to assume he knew where she was going and stick his booted foot into things. The rest of the conversation was going to be detrimental enough.
"How old are we now? Thirty? What's wrong with growing up? Settling down? I mean, why not make someone a happy woman? You'd have contenders lined up around the block, I'm sure. And I don't mean one of the Summer Sizzlers." She made a soft snorting sound. "I think you just date them because you know good and well that they won't be sticking around long enough for you to have to make a commitment."
For a moment, Alex felt utterly and completely seen. He started to deny it, to toss out a generic deflecting statement, but then stopped. Honesty. He needed to be real. That's what he wanted from Juno, wasn't it? And hadn't she been brutally honest with him? Finally, he nodded, and simply said, "It's easier. No expectations. No disappointments."
"Easier for who?" Juno challenged. "I've seen the way some of these women look at you, Alex. It's not easier for them that you aren't interested in anything more than a summer fling."
He scrubbed his hands through his hair again. This was the most uncomfortable conversation he'd had in a long time, and they were just scratching the surface of the really tough stuff. "You're right. Again. I've been selfish that way. They deserve better."
"But you don't think you deserve better."
The insight, so simple and so devastating, left him momentarily speechless. "How do you do that?" he asked finally. "How is it that you can see through me so easily?"
"Maybe because I've spent years doing the same thing in my own way," she finally admitted. "If we're talking about commitment issues and all." She dabbed at a crumb on the table and brushed it off onto her napkin. "I'm kind of a pro. Keeping everyone at arm's length. Not letting anyone get close enough to hurt me again. In particular, men. I don't have a great track record with the men in my life."
There was no cruelty in her voice, no judgement, either. The honesty of the moment felt fragile, precious. and suddenly, Alex was desperate not to lose it. They'd come so far in the past twelve hours. Surely it would be better to hold off on bringing Lena to the table, at least for now. Juno was talking about men like him. Like her father. Men she couldn't count on. He didn't want to be that anymore.
"I'm sorry about last night," he said, circling back around to the beginning of the conversation, silently berating himself for chickening out. "Breaking my sobriety was a breach of trust. To myself, to God, to you because you knew about it, and to my sobriety group."
"Will it cause trouble with your group?" she asked quietly. "I mean, I know they're supposed to be supportive and all, but judging happens, even when intentions are good."
Alex gave her a wry smile. "I'm not the first in that group to have to return their chips. They'll understand, but they'll also hold my booted toes to the fire." He grew serious. "I mean it, Juno. I'm sorry I let you down last night by being in the condition I was outside your door. It should have never happened."
"Well, thank you for saying as much," she said, nudging the platter of food closer to him. "Although we might not be having this conversation today if it hadn't. Now eat. One piece of toast isn't going to do a big lug like you much good. These are your favorite cinnamon streusel muffins. Or I can make you some eggs if you want protein."
The thought of eggs right then made his stomach clench, and he quickly scooped one of the muffins up and brought it to his nose to clear his thoughts of slimy eggs. He was certain Juno made them perfectly, not slimy at all, but just thinking about them…
Juno's phone pinged from her back pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. "I have to get back downstairs," she told him as she got to her feet. "We're down one person today, and Poppy and Jared are trying to manage the morning rush on their own."
"Of course," he said, starting to rise, too.
"Sit, Alex," she commanded, then slid an empty chair around so he could prop his foot up on it. "And you should probably still be elevating that leg any chance you get, right?"
But Alex stood anyway. "I should get out of your way. I'll take a couple of these with me, if you don't mind," he said, indicating the tray of baked goods. "What do I owe you for them?"
Juno chuckled and batted the air between them. "Not a dime. They're day-olds, so they sit in the kitchen for staff to eat, and there's no way we are going to get through everything back there today. Tonight, they go in the trash, so take them all."
"Thank you. And thank you for this." He tugged on the collar of the shirt. "And for being nice to me when you didn't have to be."
In her kitchen, she pulled a paper bag from a drawer, returned and emptied the contents of the tray into it, but then just stood there, like she had some unfinished business.
He straightened his shoulders under her direct gaze, hoping what she saw wasn't quite so distasteful to her anymore.
"What are your plans for today?" she asked, surprising him.
"I, uh..." He hadn't thought that far ahead. "I should probably call Ward, let him know I won't be coming over. They're putting the last finishing touches on the new kitchen—curtains and pictures on the wall and stuff—and I told him I'd stop by and help if I got the chance today. But not like this."
"You can't work hung over?" she asked wryly.
"Wouldn't be the first time," he admitted in the same tone. "But no, not..." He gestured vaguely, not sure how to put words to his relapse. "I need to talk to Ward privately about this, not just show up. He'll be able to tell right away; he's seen me this way far too many times."
Juno nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Well, would you like to have dinner tonight? We could talk more."
Once again caught completely off guard, he stammered, "Uh—dinner?"
"Nothing fancy. Just... talking. We've got fifteen years to catch up on, and I have questions. I'm sure you do, too."
Hope, dangerous and fragile, flickered in his chest. He swallowed the lump that had risen in the back of his throat. "I'd like that."
"Good." She gathered their mugs. "Seven o'clock? Trevor is closing tonight, so I'm done downstairs at six."
"Seven sounds perfect. Can I bring anything?"
"Don't you dare." At the door, she paused before exiting. "Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever's going on, whatever it is that's harder now—you don't have to face it alone. You know that, right?"
The sincerity in her eyes made his throat tight. "I'm starting to."
"Good. I'll see you this evening. Lock up on your way out." She reached over and jangled his keys that hung next to a set of hers on a key rack beside the coat closet door. "Your keys. Be kind to The Beast. He's been through a lot with you, hasn't he?"
Alex thought his keys looked right at home hanging next to hers.
After she left, he stood in the middle of her apartment, feeling more like himself than he had in years. The weight on his shoulders hadn't disappeared, but somehow it felt more manageable.
He hadn't told her everything, about Lena, about Melissa, about the road he'd traveled to get here and the future that loomed in front of him.
But for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe he could face it, could face himself. He would start again. Take one step. Get through one day sober, then another, and then another.
And today, he'd be having two honest conversations. He'd call Ward now and let him know what had happened. Then he'd call his AA mentor, and turn in his chips at tomorrow night's meeting.
Three honest conversations, he reminded himself, if Juno's invitation for dinner tonight was any indication. He'd find the courage to tell her everything tonight, no matter what it cost him.