of him, sprawled out and lifeless on the floor.
“H-How?” It was the only thing I could think of to say, as if I didn't already know.
“Overdose.”
I nodded, unblinking and hoping he would fill the air with something other than the buzz of my silent best friend and the sickening crack of my breaking heart.
“After you called me,” Moe continued, “I ran over to his place, just to check on him. I knew he'd been using again; he thinks he hides his shit well, but I always knew. But I didn't think shit was that bad, you know? And, I know, drugs are always bad, they're never good, but I have seen some guys reach the end of their rope and Vinnie never gave me those vibes, you know?
“Anyway, I ran over and banged on the door. I got no answer. I was gonna call him, tell him to let me in, but I just had this feelin', you know? This horrible, deep down feelin' in my gut. So, I kicked the door in and found him on the floor.”
The tears still hadn't come as I nodded, keeping my hands pressed to my chest. “But, but, but you weren't too late,” I said mostly to myself. “I called you in time. You got to him before ... before ...”
Moe laid a hand over his beanie-covered forehead. “I have run all the possibilities through my head so many times and it always boggles my damn mind. I hate thinkin' about it. I, I don't know what I'd do if he had, uh ...” He cupped a hand over his mouth and shook his head, peering through the glass door at my curious family. “I told him I've lost enough and I never wanna have to bury his dumb ass.”
I laughed beside myself. “I bet he appreciated that,” I muttered sarcastically.
“No,” Moe laughed, and Jamie smiled warmly. “He definitely did not.”
“So, um ... what happened?”
“Well, after I called 9-1-1 and the paramedics came, I called Zach and Jenna. We were at the hospital for a longass time before they finally let us see him. And that was ...” He shook his head, still disbelieving that new reality. “It was crazy. They had him strapped to the bed, tellin' us he was a danger to himself. And, I guess, at the time, he was.”
Vinnie. Suicidal. It was difficult to grasp, but looking back, hadn't there been signs all along of his depression and anger?
And I had missed them all.
“So, he was in the psychiatric ward,” I croaked.
Moe nodded solemnly. “For a week. Then, he was upstate with Zach for a while, before heading up to Boston.”
“Boston?”
Exhaling heavily, Moe turned and took a seat on a rocking chair that once belonged to my grandfather. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held them up. “Mind if I smoke?” I didn't, and so, he lit one before continuing.
“Vin didn't think he could handle going to rehab in New York. He thought it was the best idea to get away for a while and really separate himself from the shit goin' on here. So, he and Zach found this really nice place in Boston.” He took a long drag from the cigarette and left a silvery cloud in the frozen air. “He found this really great doctor up there, who had him write all these letters to everyone he hurt or, I dunno, had somethin' to say to.” That was when he pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it over to me. “And this one is for you.”
I took the white envelope from him to look at the big, bold ANDY scrawled across the front in black marker. Seeing his handwriting and the creases in the crisp paper where his hands might've been, made me realize that this was the only piece of my husband I physically had in my possession. There was nothing else. No threadbare t-shirt that smelled of his skin. No photographs or simple mementos from past holidays. Up until just seconds ago, he might as well had been nothing more than a ghost of my past. But whatever this might have been, it was now the most precious thing I owned.
It was proof that he'd once existed in my life.
I slid my finger beneath the sealed flap and began to rip it open when Moe protested with a frantic wave of his hands.
“Oh, hell no, girl. You are not opening that right now. It's takin' everything in me to keep