when it became apparent a doctor wasn’t involved. People barely reacted when six weeks later, a very conveniently timed miscarriage occurred.
Despite everything, the couple bought a fancy house and played at suburban domesticity. April kept the family updated by email blast on their fabulous life and ongoing attempts to start a family. Giselle, never far from the drama, thought marriage was good for her idiot son. She was willing to part with some of her money for shopping sprees and vacations. Whatever it took to keep the farce alive.
With their dad living in Hawaii and no happy family to fake, Arnie found it easy to avoid all contact with his brother.
“Why are you doing this? Now?” he asked in a sharp tone.
“Because I’m too old to keep taking Granddad’s handout. Because my wife is a whore. We’ve split up, by the way. Because Dad moved to Hawaii to get away from my mother. And from me.”
“Well, that’s not true,” Arnie muttered although he didn't know why he cared about Stan's feelings. “Distance from Giselle was necessary for Dad’s health. Leaving us behind was collateral damage.”
Stan looked and sounded miserable as he kept explaining.
“There are a lot of reasons I’m getting sober and taking back my life, Arnie. Some are crystal clear, and others are in murkier waters, but what does it matter? My sponsor says I should speak my truth, so here I am.” Stan cleared his throat and met Arnie’s gaze. “Look, I could apologize all day, every day, for months, and it’d never be enough. Not with you. That’s a hard fact to accept when I’m in the fight of my life and could use a brother. A real one. Not just a relationship in name only.”
The wall around his feelings for Stan loosened up. Not by a lot but enough for Arnie to extend an olive twig. A whole branch would have to wait.
“We used to be close when we were kids. Before history and everyone else’s bullshit got in the way.”
Stan gave him a half-smile. “Remember when Granddad took us to his private box at Yankee Stadium? We had a good time, didn’t we?”
Darnell Templeton Wanamaker Senior was a diehard Yankees fan. Despite an unyielding reputation, their granddad was, in Arnie’s estimation, one of the coolest guys to walk the earth. Yeah, he was a gigantic dick, but who could blame him? He was the spiritual, emotional, financial, and hereditary patriarch of a huge family burdened by money, family prestige, and mind-numbing conceit. But he was also a rebel when it mattered and knew when to cut the crap—traits Arnie admired and tried to emulate.
“I have a legends box,” he admitted with amused chagrin. “Totally Granddad’s fault, too. He hooked me up with a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy.”
“For real? Aw, man, now see? If we were real brothers, I’d know that.”
Yeah, well, and then there was that. He studied his brother for a moment. “Tell you what. Bring me a sixty-day chip, and we’ll have a bro meetup at the stadium. Any home game you want. Just you and me, Stan. Deal?” He held his hand out.
Stan regarded his extended hand. “Is this us starting over? As brothers?”
“Yes.” Arnie was surprised by how easy it was to let go of the past. At the end of his life, none of this shit was going to matter.
There was a short pause before Stan solemnly shook his hand. “I won’t let you down, Arnie.”
“Just take care of yourself, okay?”
With an amusing smirk, Stan drawled, “I’m in Weehawken. At a Marriott. Hiding from my mommy. If that’s not taking care of myself, I don’t know what is.”
Tossing his cell phone into Stan’s lap, he said, “Call Dad. Tell him you’re sober. You’re on my phone, so he’ll know we’re together.”
“You think?”
Checking his watch, Arnie did the mental math. “It’s two thirty here, so it’s nine thirty in the morning on the Big Island. You’ll catch him in the middle of his morning java buzz. Go for it.”
When Stan didn’t look convinced, Arnie reached for the phone and initiated the call before tossing it back.
“I’m gonna hit the vending machines. You want anything?” he asked while not waiting for a reply and making a fast beeline for the door.
As he stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed, he heard Stan’s nervous stammer. “Hi, Dad. It’s Stan.”
Outside the room, he headed for the ice and vending room. Walking the long hallway, he turned into