breaks, and even though she’s in the back seat, I know she’s dissolved into a puddle of tears.
My eyes shoot to the rearview, where I see Forrest take her in his arms, letting her cry into his shirt. His eyes are bloodshot, and still in a stupor of shock. He wasn’t with Bowen and me last week when we’d saved his twin brother from a meth house and then paid off his debts. For a long time, I think Forrest has wanted to turn a blind eye to Fletcher’s addiction because he loves him, and because it’s easier not to stir up trouble.
Honestly, we’ve all done it. But after the dangerous position he got himself in … Bowen and I knew we couldn’t allow this to keep going. No more seeing if he could pull it together, no more homegrown interventions. Our brother needs help, and now, he’ll get it.
The sign on the building looms over the hood of my car. Calyard’s Clinic. The name masks what actually goes on inside the nice exterior. Drug treatment, detoxing, therapy for addicts, recovery and sober-living education. Fletcher had kicked and screamed when we’d told him two days ago that we were bringing him in. It was only when Mom stepped in, her voice flat and low as a stone pummeled by a river, that he listened. She told him his father was watching that he was disgracing the man who gave him his name. She told him she would not stand by and watch him kill himself. I feel like I’ve swallowed glass just thinking of that moment.
Besides the day my dad died … today was the lowest day I could ever remember for our family.
We’d all gone to check Fletcher in, with Bowen and I now sitting in the front seat of my car, and Forrest and Mom in the back. We felt incomplete; this wasn’t our family unit. We weren’t united. And we wouldn’t be for another three months. Fletcher was going for a strict ninety days, and even though he could check himself out, I knew he wouldn’t.
I’d seen his face, I’d been the last one to leave his room. He looked like the little boy I remember helping up after he scraped his knee for the first time. Scared, frightened, in pain … but also a little invincible. Like the world could throw anything at him and he’d still rise again to fight another day.
I hope to God he gets healthy and sober.
“He’s going to do it, Ma. I just know it.” Forrest tries to comfort Mom as I put the car in reverse and then drive, steering us toward home.
It takes us forty minutes to get back to Mom’s house, which is pretty much empty at this point. Everything has been packed into boxes or sold, and we’re doing a final moving day next weekend to help get her settled in her townhouse. She chose a newer construction home in the section of town that has gone through a development boom in the last two years.
I told her she could move in with one of us and not rent until she found something she loved, but she refused. Said she didn’t want to infringe on us. Really, I think she’s just anxious to start the next chapter of her life. With the house sold and her husband gone, I think Mom is looking to take a couple of deep breaths and start anew as best as she can.
Forrest sits down at the kitchen island. “This is so weird. This whole day, just … strange.”
Bowen harrumphs in agreement, walking to the set of windows that looks out onto the backyard.
“I wish Dad were here.” The quiet words come out of my mouth before I can even stop them.
My brothers look at me, stunned. Bowen speaks first. “I do, too. I bet he’s happy she’s sold it.”
Forrest looks down at his hands. “He would have done that stupid wink and then told her he was proud.”
From the doorway, a sob rings out. We all turn swiftly, to see Mom standing there, tears streaming down her face.
“Thank you. Thank all of you. We raised you boys right, we raised you to be the best kind of men. Your father … he would have been proud of all of us.”
I go to her because I’m the oldest. I’m the one who carries the team now, who picks us up when we’re down.
Mom’s back heaves up and down as I pat it,