Chapter 13 – Age 29 #3
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath and refocused. “If you don’t need money, what were you doing at Jimmy’s? Something happen with your job at the shop?”
“No,” he said slowly. “Job’s fine. How do you know I was at Jimmy’s?”
“Cops have it bugged. Stay away from there if you don’t want to catch a charge. Tell Tan too.”
“None of us deal with Jimmy anymore. I was doing a friend a favor, helping with a heater core replacement he couldn’t figure out. It was a one-time thing.”
“A repair on a car Jimmy was moving for your friend?”
“Yeah, like I said, it was a favor. We haven’t needed a fence in a long time.” Travis fiddled with his can. “How much do you know?”
“I heard your call to Tor.”
“Then you know everything I know.” Travis tapped his fingertip against the top of his can. “I tried to warn you first, but the call went straight to voicemail.”
“My phone was dead that day.”
He patted Jule’s leg. “Glad you’re okay.”
Jule clenched his jaw. “Tor made sure of it.”
“’Course he did. That’s why I called him. Tor’s a superhero, man.” Travis picked up a gaming controller Maggie had left behind and handed it to him. “Want to play GTA until the pizza gets here?”
“Sure.”
The delicious scent of coffee woke Jule.
After staying up late drinking and gaming with Travis, he had spent the night at the Dunworthy house, squeezed onto the sofa, no pillow, a too-small blanket, and he had slept better than he ever did in his own bed.
Or at least better than he did when Tor wasn’t in bed with him.
He inhaled deeply as he blinked his eyes open.
“Morning.” Trey was walking over, a mug in each hand. His gait was slightly off.
“Morning.” Jule sat up.
He handed him a mug and sat on the coffee table directly in front of him.
“Thanks.” Jule took a sip and looked down.
“What happened to your foot?”
“I was playing tag with Mikey and my flip flop folded. Scraped the fuck out of my toes. Lost a nail. Hurts like a motherfucker.”
“What kind of a dumbass runs in flip flops?” Jule said, shaking his head.
“I don’t know. What kind of a dumbass walks barefoot on concrete in July and burns the bottoms of both his feet?”
“I was nine when I made that mistake, asshole. You did that shit to your foot recently.” He looked at Trey’s bandaged foot again and his stomach rolled. “You off the wagon again?”
“No.”
He squinted at him.
“Seriously, man.” He patted Jule’s leg. “I’m almost at six years. I was just being a fun uncle.”
He nodded and drank his coffee. “How’s work?”
“Good.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t think I’d be saying that when I spend half my day unclogging toilets and drains, but yeah, it’s good. Steady. I actually enjoy it.”
He thought back to the day everything changed.
Tor in the backyard, hooking up a sewer line to the trailer, explaining how plumbing worked, telling Trey he could do it too if he stopped drinking.
Now Trey was a plumber, he was sober, and Tor was gone.
Suddenly, Jule’s throat burned and his eyes stung.
“I know.” Trey gave him a sympathetic smile. “I miss him too.”
Just like that, he was angry. Furious.
“Do you?” he shouted. “Because I know Trav has his number, so you probably do too, right? You can fucking call him, hear his voice, know he’s okay.”
Trey didn’t escalate along with him. When they were younger, he probably would have, or more likely, he would have stalked off. But he did neither. Instead, he looked at him with understanding. “Give it time, Jule. This too shall pass.”
“When?” Jule demanded. “When precisely is it going to fucking pass because it’s been twelve years of this bullshit and nothing’s changed.”
“I know it feels that way. But all we can do is take it one day at a time.”
“The fuck does that mean, one day at a time? What’s the other option? You think I can skip Tuesday like you skip real shoes?”
Trey didn’t take the bait. “It means that if you feel like something’s too overwhelming, you need to stop thinking of it like it’s endless and break it down into small parts instead. A month, a week, hell, even an hour.”
He clenched his jaw, squeezed his hands into fists, dug his nails into his palms, and glared.
Undeterred, Trey continued explaining. “It’s a tool I learned in AA.
When I first tried to quit, I kept slipping because I’d have a bad day or a good day or a whatever fucking day and I’d want a drink and then I’d think about never having a beer again and that was too much so I told myself, fuck it, I’ll have just one, but it was never only one.
” He sipped his coffee. “Eventually, I learned to stop thinking of it like something I have to do forever. I promised myself I wouldn’t drink for the next hour and that was manageable.
When that hour ended, I’d promise myself another hour.
Eventually one hour turned into two and two turned into a day and…
” He smiled. “Now I’m at almost six years and when I get there, I’m going to promise myself that I’ll make it to seven.
” He squeezed Jule’s shoulder. “I know you miss him, Jule. Take it one day at a time. This too shall pass.”