Page 91 of Man Cuffed
I take another sip from my cold but bland beer and wonder when my family will just get over it. I’m here, aren’t I? At least I showed up for my date with Morris. Part of me wonders if my mother isn’t standing outside, peering through the windows just to make sure.
Paranoid, I turn around and check.
Nope. I only see my brother pushing through the doors in a big fat hurry, his phone pressed to his ear. “I’ll get the diapers, honey, I swear. Cross my heart. Gotta go!” He hangs up. “Jesus,” he pants, flinging himself down beside me. “Shit. I’m sorry I’m late. That was rude.”
Stunned, I check my watch. “It’s two minutes after six, dude. I wasn’t ready to send out the search party.”
“Still. Not very thoughtful of me.”
When were you ever thoughtful?I choke back that statement, but just barely.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure you were coming,” Morris babbles. “I thought maybe you’d blow it off.”
“I thought about it,” I admit. “But obviously I’m too afraid of what Julie might climb up onto next.”
He gives me a sideways glance, and then we both crack up.
The noise draws the bartender toward us. And when he sees Morris sitting there, he does a vicious double take. “Holy shitballs. Do you two know each other?”
Morris and I exchange a smirk. “Barely,” he says slowly. And we both laugh again.
The guy looks at us like we’re insane. Which, come on, we totally are. “You know I thought you looked a little off,” he tells me, setting a cocktail napkin down in front of my brother.
“That’s what everybody says,” I mumble.
He brings Morris an identical beer and chilled mug, and then he leaves us alone.
Morris points at my beer. “He just brought you that without asking, didn’t he?
“Basically. But I don’t know. It’s a little mild for my taste.”
“Ah.” My brother takes a sip. “That’s because it’s non-alcoholic.”
“What?” I pick up the bottle and squint at it. Sure enough, it saysNAin the corner. “Why are you drinking non-alcoholic beer?”
Morris gives his head a shake. “Now there’s a long story. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. But I had to give up alcohol a few years ago.”
“I had no idea.” My brother is an alcoholic?
He shrugs. “I asked the family not to mention it to you.”
“How come?” I know lots of people in recovery. And I’m not judgey.
“Well, it’s embarrassing.” He picks up his non-alcoholic beer and takes a sip. “I mean, you’re the one who was wronged, and I’m the guy who couldn’t handle it.”
“What?”
Another shrug. “I was wracked with guilt, I guess. Julie and I almost called it quits after the first coupla years. She said I had to stop with the booze or she was leaving me. It was right around the time you were graduating with high honors and I was flunking out of community college.” He shakes his head. “Water under the bridge, though.”
My head is spinning, and I can’t even blame the beer. It never occurred to me that Morris wasn’t happy with the life he’d stolen from me.Wracked with guilt. “Is there any other use for the wordwracked?” I ask suddenly. “Can you be wracked with joy? Wracked with hilarity?”
Morris laughs, and it’s a funny sound. He laughs like Ernie fromSesame Street. It’s so familiar that it makes my hair stand up.
I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten so much. “Mor.”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you and Julie justtellme.” The question just pops out. But now it’s here, and I have to follow through. “All those years ago. Why did you make me find out by accident? Like it was some sick joke you were playing on me.”
