Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
W hen Cora didn’t really answer Brandon’s question about Julian, he heard all that he needed. And it made Brandon write. He wrote during the day and then at night. The reluctance to write he’d had for months disappeared as his mind became finally clear. Cora was into Julian and not into him. His spiraling thoughts had disappeared, and his focus went solely on writing.
The following day, Brandon called the center where Julian was staying to check in on him. He guessed he wouldn’t be able to talk to Julian, but he wanted to make sure he had stayed and was doing okay. The first twenty-four hours in a voluntary rehabilitation center could be the hardest. Detoxing from all the booze Julian had kept in his system would not be easy.
At the center, Julian received the best medical treatments to help ease the detoxifying process. He received group and individual therapy, a meal plan to help his body recover, and routine exercise. Julian was exactly where he should be.
He didn’t know Julian very well, but a quick Google search showed the guy was loaded, from a predominant family, and had a fast-rising career in finance. From the outside, Julian looked as though he had it all: good looks, charm, when he wasn’t completely intoxicated, and connections. How could Brandon compete with that?
He couldn’t.
Growing up, Brandon hadn’t ever left the city. His parents were blue-collar and worked nights and weekends for most of his childhood. Luckily, while living in the old neighborhood with his family and close friends, he didn’t feel lonely or poor. He had a community that supported and took care of each other. It wasn’t until high school that he noticed what he lacked, but by then, he was proud of where he came from and wouldn’t change a thing. Even his addiction played a part in creating the man he is today.
When he first started drinking, it was just for fun at parties in high school. It loosened the usually shy and quiet Brandon into a fun, easy-going guy. In college, he drank with his friends on the weekends, but periodically started having drinks by himself. By the end of his four years in school, he drank almost every day. But no one knew he had a problem, not even him. After he graduated, he found a job as a copy editor for a weekly free community newsletter. It gave him the byline he had so badly wanted, but also spare time to write his debut novel that would blow the literary world’s mind.
By then, he drank on a regular basis. It wouldn’t have been uncommon for him to finish a six-pack by himself. Drinking became a priority over everything else, including writing. He always thought he could write while he drank, but most of the time, what he wrote would be garbage. During that time, he somehow finished his first novel and sent it out to all the literary agents who had open submissions. With every rejection letter he received, he fell deeper into the bottle. Then, his father found out he had cancer.
Most people didn’t even know how bad things were until his father died. He had been pretty good at hiding it, but it became clear to his family he had a serious problem.
When his father was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer, he didn’t know how he would cope without him. He had been his rock, his mentor, his best friend up until that point. He didn’t want to face life without him. So, he drank. A lot.
If it hadn’t been for Father Michael, Brandon might still be drinking or, most likely, dead.
Those days still haunted him. Sometimes, the guilt would wash over him, and he’d think about having just one drink. That’s how powerful alcohol can be. Six years sober, yet that voice still whispered in his ear.
Luckily, he never gave in and never relapsed, but so many people he knew from meetings did.
Julian had a long and hard journey ahead of him, and Brandon wondered if he’d make it.
He called Father Michael next to give him an update.
“You did the right thing for him,” Father Michael said after he filled him in on Julian.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, wishing he could confess everything right then. “He’s not easy to help.”
“Hmmm, why’s that?” Father Michael asked.
Could Brandon explain without sounding like a jealous teenager? “I don’t think sobering up is going to help him much, is all.”
“You don’t?” Father Michael made a humming sound. “How come?”
“He doesn’t seem to care about anyone but himself.” Brandon couldn’t see what Cora saw in the guy.
“How did you two meet again?”
He had told Father Michael Julian was a friend of a friend. “My friend Cora. I sort of came to see her while he was asking for help.”
“Ahh, so you were sent at the right time,” Father Michael said.
“It was just a coincidence.” Brandon didn’t want this to become more than what it was.
“Coincidence, fate, divine intervention, either way, you were there for a reason,” Father Michael said. “I’m proud of you, Brandon, for helping.”
“You were the one who ended up helping him,” Brandon pointed out.
“That’s my job,” Father Michael said. “So, who’s this friend?”
“She’s just a coworker at the restaurant,” Brandon said, trying to pass it off as though she were another employee.
“Just stopping by a coworker’s house?” Father Michael fished.
“She’s just a friend,” he said again.
“Okay,” Father Michael said. “You going to your mom’s tonight?”
“It’s Sunday, so of course,” Brandon said. He always went to Sunday dinners.
“Then I should’ve seen you with her at church this morning,” he said.
Brandon still hadn’t gone back since his father’s funeral. “Maybe one day.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Father Michael said. “Keep me updated.”
“I will,” Brandon said before letting him go.
He sat back on the couch, looking at his computer screen, but too tired to even think. Closing the screen, he got up and cleaned up for dinner. His mother would be expecting him soon.
Brandon drove the few miles through the city to his mother’s house, a triple-decker on the south end of Boston. When he got there, he walked into her apartment without even knocking. He found her right where she always was—in the kitchen. “Hey, Ma.”
She looked up from a steaming pot and put her hands on her chest. “It’s Brandon!”
She rushed over to her middle son, took his face in both hands and kissed him on the cheek. “When did you get here?” she asked.
“Right now,” Brandon said, kissing her back.
The house was permeated with different smells. Like every Sunday, Lucia was cooking for her family.
“What’s for dinner tonight?” Brandon asked, peeking into the pot and picking up the wooden spoon resting next to it. He dipped it in and smelled his mother’s infamous sauce right away, then he took a taste. He closed his eyes. Nobody did it better than his mom. “This is good.”
“I’ve got a little bit of everything tonight,” Lucia said, getting right back to what she was doing before they interrupted. She stood at the counter chopping up parsley. “I’ve got eggplant parm, gnocchi, and some chicken cutlets. Your brother wanted ravioli.”
Brandon wasn’t surprised she had enough to feed an army.
“Oh, and I invited Father Michael,” she said. “He couldn’t make it, but he told me about how you helped that young man.”
“Who’d you help?” his brother Pete said, walking into the kitchen in his police uniform.
“Some guy that I met,” Brandon said, wasn’t sure how much he should discuss it.
“Helped him with what?” Pete asked.
“Never mind; it’s really not a big deal,” Brandon said, hoping he’d drop the matter.
“Father Michael said he was a friend of yours.” Lucia tilted her head in confusion.
“A friend of a friend,” Brandon said. “Cora knows him.”
This made Lucia happy. “Oh, Cora is so lovely. You should’ve invited her for dinner.”
He had invited Cora to his family home for dinner more than a few times since her mother moved to Maine. Cora couldn’t always make it up to see her mom during the holidays, so he began to invite her just in case she was alone.
“Well, let’s get ready for dinner,” she said, wiping her hands on the towel. “Sophia said to start without her. She’s finishing up her shift at the hospital and said she’d make it as soon as she could.”
Bradon fell into his childhood routine, putting down the placemats, then the plates that were reserved only for Sunday dinners. Pete got the drinks, talking to Lucia about his day. When Lucia sat down, she folded her hands together and said a prayer.
“Let’s eat,” she said after the blessing.
“Where’s Joey?” Pete asked.
Lucia shrugged her shoulders. “Somewhere doing something for school.”
His overachieving baby brother always seemed to be somewhere for this committee meeting or playing that sport. His parents’ accidental baby had turned out to be the best one of the bunch.
All of the Rossi children had been successful except one. Brandon had been the disappointment in the family, although they’d never admit it. Even before he started drinking, he didn’t have the charisma the others had. He’d been the quiet one of the family, happy to take a backseat and none of the attention. He wasn’t great at sports like Pete. He didn’t have the high achieving GPA like Joey or the drive like Sophia.
Luckily, when Brandon needed help, he had their support and their forgiveness.
“So, tell us about Cora’s friend.” his mom asked as they began eating.
“He’s just some guy who was having a hard time.” He exaggerated the truth so he wouldn’t feel like a liar in front of his mother, who sacrificed everything for her children. “That’s why I brought him to see Father Michael.”
Pete looked up from his plate full of spaghetti, ravioli, eggplant parm, and even two slices of garlic bread. “Who needed help?”
“He doesn’t want people to know about getting help,” Brandon said, hoping that would keep them from asking questions, but he should’ve known better.
“Why?” Pete asked, leaning back in his chair. It creaked underneath him.
“He’s one of the Abbott children,” Lucia said.
“Ma,” Brandon said. He didn’t even tell her who. “How do you know?”
“Because Father Michael told me.” She shrugged and went back to the eggplant. Do you have enough? I have baked ziti in the fridge.”
“An Abbott? Like the Senator Abbott?” Pete leaned on his elbows, waiting for Brandon to respond.
Brandon took a bite of eggplant before answering. “Yeah, but I’d really like it to stay here. He hasn’t even talked to his family about everything, so if you tell anyone, Pete.”
“I won’t say a thing.” Pete held up his hands. “But the only person he could find was you?”
Pete whipped his napkin at Brandon to let him know he would always be the older brother who razzed him.
“I think it’s great,” his mother plopped a cutlet on his plate. “Helping people also helps you.”
“He was in a bad place, and Father Michael and I helped him out, that’s all. I don’t even know the guy.” Brandon looked down at his plate and twirled up some spaghetti.
“How do you know him?” Pete clearly wanted more details, but Brandon wasn’t willing to tell.
Luckily, the back door opened, and Sophia came into the house. She wore her nursing clothes, sunglasses, and her hair in a bun. She even had the clogs all the nurses wore. She was still in full-nurse mode. Brandon couldn’t be prouder of his little sister. Graduating at the top of her class, Sophia had always known she wanted to be a nurse.
She pulled off her sunglasses and sat down at the table. “I’m so hungry.”
Brandon passed the bowl of pasta to her. “How was work?”
From there on, Sophia took over the conversation, telling stories about the hospital where she worked. Pete soon forgot his questions about the secret Abbott, and Brandon happily sat back and listened.
When they finished dinner, Pete went back to his apartment and Sophia went to shower. Brandon started clearing the table, and Lucia came over to him.
“Brandon,” his mother said quietly. “Does this drag up any feelings? Helping this man?”
“No,” he said, but it had brought a lot of feelings he had forgotten back to the surface. “I’m fine. You’re right. It’s good to help.”
This made Lucia smile. “Good. I’m glad.” She wrapped tin foil around a casserole dish and put it in the fridge. “So, you’ll make sure he’s doing, okay? Since he’s on his own, right?”
Brandon groaned at this. “Ma, I helped as much as I could.”
“Didn’t you promise Father Michael?” she asked.
“Technically, I did,” Brandon said truthfully, but it wouldn’t matter.
Lucia ignored him. “If you told him you’d help him, then you need to follow through on your promise.”
Brandon lowered his voice. “He’s a spoiled brat. Do you know who he is?”
Lucia gave him the look that said she didn’t care what he had to say; just do what she asked. “Brandon Rossi, I didn’t raise you to do just enough.”
“He’s a rich kid who doesn’t want to hurt his image.” Brandon didn’t feel as though he needed to do more for this guy. “He’s got a ton of resources at his fingertips. Most people aren’t so lucky. We certainly couldn’t afford a luxury rehabilitation center. It looks like a resort.”
Lucia looked out the front window as she said, “Addiction doesn’t care if he has money. He needs someone who understands.”
“I called this morning,” Brandon said. “He’s going to be fine.”
“What about Cora? Didn’t you promise you’d help her friend?”
“What else do you want me to do?” Wasn’t taking a day out of his life to help a stranger enough?
“Father Michael said he didn’t even tell his mother.” Lucia frowned while placing her hand on her chest. “He must feel really alone right now.”
If it was anyone besides his mother at this point, he’d say no way. He didn’t need to go more out of his way for this guy. But as his mother waited for him to change his mind, the woman he had put through hell with his own addiction, he knew he had no other choice.
“Fine, I’ll go up there and see if he’s doing okay,” Brandon said. His mother immediately smiled at this. “But they don’t always allow visitors.”
She handed him a Tupperware container “Then you should probably bring a priest with you.”