Page 24 of Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself)
Twelve
“I can’t believe you’re still living with your brother,” Vic said on a laugh.
Benny leaned over to pick a glass off the floor, downing the last of the tea Ruby had brought him an hour ago. He grimaced at the watered-down taste of melted ice. “Me, either,” he responded finally, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. “Andy’s still on his trip, though, and he wanted me to hang out here so Ruby wouldn’t be alone.”
“I heard that,” a feminine voice called from upstairs, and Vic laughed. “It’s a small apartment, baby brother. I can hear—everything.” She giggled, and he cringed. “But, you’re in luck.” Quick footsteps descended the staircase and Benny looked to see her approaching the couch, her beautifully rounded baby bump preceding her. Giddy with happiness about the pregnancy, she had been the perfect housemate. Their friendship had grown strong, and he felt close to her, closer than he’d ever felt to a woman, and Benny realized he did think of her like his sister. Bossy and sweet by turns, she hassled and managed him, making life better because she was there.
Ruby was never up in his face about his recovery, helping smooth things instead of making them harder. Once she learned his routine, he would find her patiently waiting for him at the door, keys in hand, so she could take him to scheduled meetings. Without him having to ask for favors, or having to put a difficult and embarrassing request into words, she saw the need and handled it. Like she handled his brother.
Against the doc’s express orders to get Benny into an organized treatment plan, Andy had listened to Benny’s promises about staying straight. He swore to Andy all he had to do was remember the last few times he laid eyes on their mom, and he’d turn away from anything mind-altering. Their deal was he'd attend at least three meetings a week, find a sponsor, and not slip. All threats aside, if he fucked up, he knew Andy would have him back in rehab so fast his head would spin. Just the thought of that Arizona desert wasteland was more motivation not to ever do it again.
So he hit the meetings and tried to make the available programs work for him. Some weeks saw his ass in a folding chair more than three times. Just trying to stay straight, keep his tally going in the right direction. Two hundred and fifty-three, and counting. But, every day saw him still struggling to hold in the wanting, that need so huge in his head, pounding and echoing through his thoughts, begging to be fed. The desire eating through his belly in a way he knew he needed help to beat it back. His sponsor was a cool dude, a local photographer who needed to stay sober so he could keep working. Sometimes all Benny had to do was text him, and when the response came in, simply seeing it would steady him, making it so he could breathe through the next sixty seconds.
One minute at a time. Still sober, he thought, looking up at her. “Why is my luck turning?” Pushing his lip out in a pretend pout, he whined, “I like my luck. Don’t turn it. Stop touching my luck! Imma tell Andy.”
“Silly,” she said, flopping on the couch beside him, hand on the side of her belly. “Slate called.” Grinning, the happiness poured out of her in a giddy flood, and he found himself smiling back at the petite beauty. “Guess who’s going to New Mexico?”
“My brother finally wise up that if he left you alone here much longer, you’re gonna pop before he sees you again?” He made the sound like a champagne cork, and her laughter bubbled out again, echoed by Vic’s. “I take it you’re headed out to see him?”
“Yeah.” That one whispered word held a lifetime of longing, and he thought there might be something there. Closing his eyes, he tried to follow it, frustrated when nothing surfaced.Nothing. He’d written nothing in months.Unless you count Lucia’s song, he thought, then dragged his fingers across the strings randomly, breaking the silence with the jangling noise. He and Vic had worked on the song he’d started calling “The Promise of Love,” but it wasn’t quite right yet.We’ll get it.
Mitty had headed home to Michigan for a break, leaving Vic and Benny behind, but promised he’d be back in a heartbeat when they were ready to start performing.
Benny just wasn’t ready, yet.
The idea of getting onstage gave him chills, making his insides shake as much as his fingers did a dozen times a day. He’d talked to Bear about it, learning how music came into his life, listening as his friend talked about losing his wife and daughter to a terrible accident. Loss that changed the fabric of his life in a way he was still struggling to recover from.
Bear said the music had saved him, was saving him still, and Benny hoped for the same outcome. Pushing himself every day to play longer, harder, take on different styles of music, force himself to sight-read and play by ear and utilize a dozen different tactics to make himself better. Mold his talent into a skill that would stay with him forever. Form himself into someone who could hold his own against Bear, or any other talent on the market here in the Fort.
A hand closed over his on the neck of the guitar. “Stop it,” Ruby told him, glaring at him, nose scrunched. “You’re doing fine. You’re going to be fine.” She shook her head, letting her hand fall away. “I’ll be back in a week, tops.” Leaning back, she propped one slim ankle on her knee, her belly filling the space created by her angled leg. “Vic can keep you in line.” She slapped Vic’s thigh with her palm, grinning between the two men bracketing her on the couch. “I gots faith in the boy.”
***
Two days later he was seated in the exact same spot when his phone rang. Picking it up off the table, Ruby’s info was on the screen. Concerned, he quickly answered, putting it to his ear. Before he could even get out a greeting, she was shrieking, half her words lost in her eagerness. “…osed, can you believe it? I didn’t hardly get off the plane, and he’s all, marry me, and I’m all, okay. And so there you go, it’s good, right, Benny? It’s good?”
“He asked you to marry him?”Holy shit. He knew Andy loved her—the emotion was plain on his face every time he looked at her—but to get married?
“More told me than asked.” Ruby giggled, and he heard voices in the background. “I gotta go, Benny. I wanted to tell you first.” She sighed, and he knew she was looking at whatever ring Andy had put on her finger. “I’ll be your sister-in-law.”
“Sister-in-truth,” he countered, then asked, “Is it pretty?” She’d called him, not one of her friends. Not someone from the club. Him and that kind of sharing told him how much she’d grown to care for him. “I’m your brah now, Ruby mine.”
She giggled again, and he heard Andy’s voice in the background, calling her name. “Yes, it’s beautiful. He did good, brah.” She giggled again. “Nope, can’t bring myself to call you that. I’ll pick something else.” Her tone was teasing. “Gotta be something you hate. I’ll give it some thought, come up with a good one. You wait and see.”
Rolling his eyes, he told her goodbye and then, because she started talking to Andy before the call disconnected, got to listen to her speaking animatedly, clearly communicating her love for his brother, the cadence of her speech rising and falling, flowing into something that made him smile.
Hmm. Fingers to the strings, he strummed slowly, the song taking shape in his mind. Music first, it rolled through his fingers, notes finding their place next to each other effortlessly. Then, once the music was firm in his head, the words came with the same simplicity. Complete and whole nearly from inception.
Ghost of love no more, you brought my desires into the sunlight. Passionate and strong, your love braces me, laces me, in places worn to pieces. Phantom pain erased by your hands, gold band joining us feels so right. Head lifted high, your love braces me, places me, in your hands, cradled.
He strummed through the melody again before he lost the thread, then he tapped record on his seldom-used phone app, working his way through the lyrics slowly.
That doesn’t suck, he thought, and then his gaze caught on the cabinet beside the stove. In Andy’s efforts to cleanse the house of booze, he’d missed one stash. A small pint of black label whiskey sat on the shelf behind that thin piece of painted wood. It stood next to a container of salt and a bottle of olive oil, and Benny knew it was probably a cooking additive, but still…the need whispered,whiskey. In his mind, he heard Ruby’s giggle, happy and light, telling him her good news first. He mattered to her. “My sister-in-truth.” Repeating the words he’d said to her helped give him strength when he was ready to pull his gaze away from the cabinet door standing between him and pleasant numbness. “Make her proud.”
***
Walking into the club’s base of operations the next day, he nearly crashed headlong into someone as they ran out the door, stumbling and dodging to one side to avoid the collision. “Whoa,” he clipped, settling his guitar case on his shoulder again, then took a second look and realized it was Lucia. Their paths hadn’t often crossed since that first day at Eddie’s, but when they did, she seemed easygoing and sweet, a quick smile on her lips, even if she didn’t say a lot. Today her eyes were red and tear-filled, hair tangled around her head like she’d been tearing her hands through it.
“Luce,” he called, reaching out to steady her with one hand. “What’s wrong, honey?”
