made small talk with hushed voices. She didn’t ask any more about Grady or about Graham’s love life. Instead, she talked about a vacation she wanted to take but was having a difficult time convincing George to go on. He was worried about Grady.
“Always worried about Grady,” Johanna stressed. “At some point, do we give up?”
Graham stiffened and looked out the kitchen window. In the fifteen years since the accident, he had never heard his mother ask such a question. He removed his hands from the water and dried them with a dish towel. He turned and found his mother sitting at the small table where she and George ate most of their meals. Graham took a mug from the dish rack and filled it with coffee and took it to his mother. He pulled the vacant chair out from under the table and sat down.
“Grady needs professional help, Mom.”
“I know,” she said quietly as tears escaped her eyes. Her hands wrapped around the mug. She lifted it to her lips and took a sip. “I’ve tried talking to your father, but he’s in denial. He doesn’t see the prolonged damage. There were times when you boys were growing up, I couldn’t tell you apart. So many of the same features—your eyes, cheekbones, and the way you’d wear your hair. When I saw Grady the last time, he looked nothing like you, and I had to take a step back. My baby boy is in trouble and has been for years, and I’ve been blinded by the notion he’d get better on his own or this was his way of coping.”
“What do you mean, last time? Isn’t Grady living here?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t seen him in weeks, Graham.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She tried to smile, but her cheeks barely lifted. “I didn’t want to burden you.”
“Mom, he’s my brother. I worry about him too.”
“I know, but he shouldn’t be your problem. He’s mine and your father’s.”
Graham was at a loss for words. Her thoughts differed vastly from his father’s. George wanted everyone to look the other way when it came to Grady. On the surface, George needed to believe he had the perfect life.
“I thought that with Brooklyn back, Grady would change. That her presence would bring him some closure,” Johanna stated. Graham knew this wasn’t the case. Grady was upset with Brooklyn and blamed her for Austin’s death.
“If you could convince him—”
“To do that?” Graham asked.
“To go to rehab.”
“I’ve tried. He won’t listen. I told him I’d drive him, be there when he got out.”
“Try harder, please. For me? So much has been lost; I just want my son back.”
“And I want my brother back.” Graham longed for the days when his brother was his best friend. Granted, over time, they’d grown apart, but they’d always had each other’s backs. He wanted more than anything to help his brother overcome his demons, to help him move on. Graham hated feeling as if Grady was a lost cause, but there were also times when he thought Grady could use a month or two in jail, under lock and key. He was sure it was his brother who had broken into the bar over the summer, but Graham couldn’t prove it. As much as he tried and told the police who he thought busted the door open and stole hundreds of dollars in liquor, nothing ever came to fruition.
Graham went back to the sink and finished the dishes, packed his leftovers, and kissed his mother goodbye. He sat in his car, looking at the house he had grown up in. So much had changed—and not for the better. He and Grady had so many dreams when they were teenagers. No one ever faulted Grady for wanting to be an angler. Most everyone embraced it. If anything, people turned their noses up at Graham for planning to leave Cape Harbor. Grady had been supportive of Graham’s career choice, and he of Grady’s. Now, all Graham wanted to do was find his brother. And when he did, he was going to ask him to finally pull his head out of his ass.
He started his car, and at the same time, his phone rang. He expected it to be Bowie asking him where he was. The display showed an unknown number. He declined the call, switched his car into reverse, and pulled out of his parents’ driveway. He’d made it to the corner when his phone chimed with a new voice mail.