Pops walked in, his head dropped and his gaze darting everywhere but at me. I recognized the drunk’s walk of shame.
“Pops?” He was pale, his eyes still bloodshot and his hands twisted around something.
“Sorry it took so long for us to come see you,” he said. “I had to get something first. ’Cause…” His voice trailed away, but when I just held his gaze, he stumbled into speech again. “I just had to.”
“We both did,” Larry said firmly. And when I looked at him, he shrugged. “I got some, too. I think it’ll… I think I’m going to give it a shot. A good shot, because I need to. For me.”
“And me,” Pops said.
They were talking in circles, and I was missing Ellie too much to tolerate it. “What are you blathering about?” I asked.
Pops swallowed and then abruptly opened his hand. Nestled in his palm was a pill bottle. I leaned forward, and he lifted it up to show me what it said.
Naltrexone. The pill that had worked wonders for me and had helped so many others kick alcoholism.
“You’re going to start taking it?”
Pops and Larry both nodded.
“You know it’s not going to fix things alone, right? You know—”
“We know,” Larry said, and Pops picked up the thread.
“We’ve got a plan. I came up with it the last time I tried this. But I didn’t mean it then. I do now.”
I studied them both. Larry had never tried to get sober before, but Pops certainly had. Or rather, he’d given lip service to trying. It might be the fever, but this time I actually believed them. Something was different this time. They both seemed like they were serious.
“Because of what Ellie said? That she didn’t like you?”
Pops looked away. Larry shrugged. In the end, it was my brother who put a hand on Pops’s shoulder and explained.
“You aren’t the only one with a woman in your life,” he said. “My girl just told me to cut ties with the booze. All of it. Or else.”
I knew that talk. Mom had had it with Pops a dozen times before she finally left.
“She mean it? She dumping you if you don’t—” Pops asked.
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t like me when I’m drinking around her. So I’m stopping.”
“That’s great—” I said, but Pops interrupted.
“And I won’t give up either of you. So if I have to choose—”
“You do,” Larry said. And when they looked at me, I nodded. I couldn’t keep doing this—trying to keep my father alive while he drank himself to death. I was done. I had to be, because I didn’t think Ellie would put up with it much longer.
“Then I’m stopping, too,” Pops said as he gripped the naltrexone. “Larry and me are going to meetings together. And we’re talking to someone.” He smiled at me. “I mean it this time, Jake. I really do.”
I believed him. I believed them both. And the odds of their success went up with every second I supported them. “I’ll help—” I added, but both men shook their heads.
“You’ve done plenty. And I told your woman that I won’t see you again unless I’m sober. And so that’s what it’s got to be.”
Good God, how had quiet, nervous Ellie wrought such a change in my family? I couldn’t believe it, and yet I was looking at the proof. “You’ll still need help,” I said. “It won’t hurt me to go to the meetings with you.”
And so it was agreed. And then a miracle happened.
Ellie walked in.
Her steps were brisk, her hand motions sure, but her eyes darted about the room searching everyone’s faces in quick succession. Then her gaze hopped to the monitor and back to me.
