Something passes over Stone’s expression that I can’t identify. “You two were really close.”
A statement.
Not a guess.
“Stone,” I say softly, garnering his attention. “I met Brooks in AA. That’s where our friendship started.”
He takes a step back, as if I somehow slapped him with my words. Shaking his head, that thing in his eyes I couldn’t really identify a moment ago is clear now.
It’s torture.
“I knew nothing about him,” he mutters. Each syllable sounds agonizing.
“You knew plenty,” I assure him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “And he always wanted you to know more, he just didn’t know how. It’s why he wanted you to read the journals.”
“I can’t…” Stone’s gaze falls to the floor as he rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m not ready.”
“You will be one day,” I promise.
His eyes lift to mine, and his voice is hollow. “I can’t even fucking sleep in the master bedroom. Those goddamn journals in the closet scare the shit out of me.”
It’s an admission I don’t think he intended to make, but it’s huge. Such an intensely private fear to share with a near stranger.
“Listen.” My voice is gentle as I get the feeling he could bolt at any moment and shut down completely. But I think he needs a nudge forward. “Why don’t you come to the meeting with me? Tonight’s an open meeting so nonalcoholics can attend. On the way over, I’ll tell you a little about how Brooks and I met, and you can maybe get a sense of how the AA community works. It will give you perspective. And you can ask any questions you want, and I’ll be glad to answer.”
I fully expect him to decline. While he happily stood and chatted at my party last week, it was surface conversation and he gave nothing away about himself. He held all his neighbors at a polite arm’s length.
So, when he nods, throwing a thumb at his door and says, “Let me get my coat,” I almost do a double take in disbelief.
I manage an encouraging smile and nod. “Awesome.”
Stone dumps the recycle bin just inside his condo and grabs his coat. As he locks up, I tell him, “The meeting’s a few blocks down at the Episcopal church.”
“Is AA a religious group?” he asks as we head down the staircase.
“No, but they often rent church halls for the meetings. AA is definitely spiritual, though. Tonight’s an open meeting so anyone can come. It’ll be members talking about their experiences, but no one is required to participate. Many just come to listen.”
“You said nonalcoholics are welcome?”
“Family members of alcoholics will often come, not only to support a loved one but sometimes because their loved one won’t recognize the issue and they have nowhere to turn.”
We take a right out of the condo and head down the block. It’s a beautiful, cold night, busy with people out strolling amongst the stores and restaurants.
We’re silent for a while until Stone says, “I never knew Brooks had a problem with alcohol. I mean, we drank beers together and he liked to party, but I didn’t know it was a problem.”
“I guess the word problem is kind of relative. With Brooks, it became an escape. A way to numb himself against pain.”
“Being gay and not able to be out?” he guesses.
“That,” I murmur, “and your father. He put a lot of pressure on Brooks to be the perfect son, the perfect hockey player. I think your brother sometimes felt caught in a web by your dad and didn’t know how to get out. So he drank to ignore it all.”
“Christ, I hate that man sometimes,” Stone growls, and then immediately apologizes. “I mean… he’s my father, and I love him, but—”
I stop mid-stride and touch Stone’s arm. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings about your dad. We don’t choose our parents, nor are we required to love them just because of who they are. Love is earned, always.”
“I didn’t do enough to earn Brooks’s love.” The tone of his voice cuts deep.
“And he didn’t do enough to earn yours back. No one was at fault, but everyone had their part to play in this by their apathy. You can’t change the past, but you can accept it, learn from it, and move on.”
“I don’t know if I can accept my father,” Stone says, his tone bristling with anger as we start walking again.
I hadn’t intended to tell Stone about his father’s visit, but I think he might need to know that I can certainly understand his feelings. “Your dad came to my office four days ago.”
“Did he make an appointment to see you?” Stone asks in disbelief.
I snort laugh. “No. He showed up unannounced. That habit must run in the family.” I give Stone a pointed look, and he rolls his eyes.
“But he was a much bigger asshole than you were,” I say with a cheeky grin. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he admits apologetically. “I was a dick.”
“Let’s just say your dad provoked Odin to want to take a piece out of him.”
“He wanted to take a piece out of me,” Stone says.
I shake my head and laugh again. “No, Odin was just giving you a little warning. But he was ready to launch at your dad.”
Stone is quiet, but I make him ask his curiosities. I’m not going to tell him anything unless he wants to know. Finally, he asks, “What did he want?”
“He wanted to know why Brooks left you everything. Was sure you had something to do with it and wanted me to help him change things. It wasn’t pretty, but let’s just say I kicked him out of my office and told him if he came back, I would let Odin bite him.”
Stone tips his head back and lets out a bark of a laugh that morphs into belly rumbles of amusement. It occurs to me that I have never seen him be as free with his emotions as he is at this moment. The man who guards everything like a pit bull now releases out to the world a joyous burst, and it touches me.
It also feels nostalgic—Brooks could be quite dour at times, and I always loved making him laugh.
I point up ahead to the next block. “That’s the church. Just to let you know what will happen, we’ll go in and grab coffee. I’m going to introduce you because unfortunately, you’re going to be recognized, and everyone there knows Brooks and about my friendship with him. But you won’t have to engage. The meeting will open up with the Serenity Prayer, and then anyone who wants to talk about their problems or their recovery are free to do so. It’s very casual and informal.”
“Harlow,” Stone says, and my neck twists so I can look over at him. “In case I forget to say it later, thank you for sharing this with me.”
I smile. “I’m an open book.”
CHAPTER 14
Stone
I’m nervous as hell as we walk into the church hall. I knew when I accepted Harlow’s invitation to this meeting—especially after finding out that Brooks was a member of AA—that people would recognize me. I steel myself against the inevitable sympathetic looks and more likely than not, the verbal condolences that will be offered. I don’t want to hear them, but I also recognize that these people were probably a very integral part of my brother’s life, and they might need to express themselves. I sort of get the impression that expression of one’s feelings is important in this community.