by Force, Marie
“What did you say?” Dennis asked in a voice that almost didn’t register over the roar of the ocean.
Brandon’s eyes burned. He looked away from his father. “I didn’t want to work for the company,” he mumbled. “I didn’t even want to be an engineer.” His stomach twisted with fear as one of his best-kept secrets came tumbling out.
Dennis stepped back as if Brandon had taken a swing at him. “You don’t mean that.”
“I’m not saying it to hurt you, Da, but it’s true. O’Malley & Sons was never my dream, but I’ve devoted my entire life to that company. I deserve better than being pushed aside like I’m just another employee.”
Dennis turned back to the stairs.
“Da,” Brandon called. “Wait.”
But Dennis kept walking.
Brandon jogged to catch up with him, grabbing the sleeve of his father’s coat.
Dennis tugged his arm out of his son’s grasp.
Back in the truck, Brandon removed the gloves and laid them on the seat between them. “I’m sorry, Da. I’d never want to hurt you or disappoint you. That’s why I never told you this before. I tried to do what you wanted me to do, but that didn’t work out so well for me.”
“I just don’t understand,” Dennis said, shaking his head. His parents had been Irish immigrants, and even though Dennis was born in Boston, when he was tired or upset he tended to lapse into the brogue of his parents’ homeland. More than anything, that told Brandon just how distressed his father was. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Brandon shrugged. “When Aidan went to medical school, I figured there was no way I could leave, too. I knew you were counting on the rest of us.”
“What did you want? What would you have done if there’d been no family business?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does matter!” Dennis roared. “Tell me.”
Brandon swallowed hard. “I wanted to be a Navy SEAL.”
Dennis rested his big hands on the steering wheel and glanced over at his son with a look of astonishment on his face. “What kind of man does that make me?” he whispered. “What kind of father was I that you couldn’t come to me and tell me that? Do you honestly think there was anything you could’ve wanted that I would’ve denied you? Anything?” His voice caught as he rested his head on his hands.
“Da,” Brandon whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Dennis’s head whipped back up. “You’re sorry? You? What do you have to be sorry about? I just don’t see how…”
“What?”
“How did you keep this from me all these years? There was always a cloud of unhappiness and discontent about you, but I had no idea it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I should’ve said something. But you were so disappointed when Aidan decided to go to medical school—”
“What the hell are you talking about? Disappointed? I was over the moon! My father left school in the eighth grade, and my son was going to be a doctor? How could you think I was disappointed? It was one of the greatest thrills of my life.”
“But you were so sad…” Brandon felt like he was standing on quick sand as everything he’d believed to be true turned out to be false. “You wanted us to come to work with you.”
“I wanted you to be happy. And I didn’t want any of you to have to struggle the way I did. The business was my legacy to you, son, but not if you didn’t want it. That you didn’t want it never occurred to me.”
Brandon wanted to weep for lost dreams, for words unspoken, and for the awful pain he saw on his father’s face. “I didn’t want it when I was younger,” Brandon admitted when he could finally bring himself to speak again. “But I’ve devoted my life to that business, and it’s all I know, Da. You can’t take it away from me. Especially not now.”
“You’re going to have to deal with Colin if you stay. I’m not changing my mind about that. And until you’re back on your feet, we want you to take on a special project.”
“What kind of special project?” Brandon asked with a wary glance at his father.
“I want you to manage the apartment building I bought on Old Queen Anne Road. The place needs some work, and I’ve got a pain-in-the-ass tenant over there bitching about the plumbing, the mice, and just about everything else. I want you to deal with it.”
“You’re not serious.”
“It’s the perfect thing for you right now. You’ll have the time to go to your meetings and do what you need to do to stay sober without a lot of job stress to contend with.”
“Was this Colin’s idea?”
“It was my idea,” Dennis said. “And there’s, uh, one other thing.”
“I can’t wait to hear this.”
“I want you to live there while you’re doing the work. I want the tenants to feel like they have access to you.”
Brandon snorted. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
“It’s your call, Brand. But it’s this or nothing. The men don’t trust you after what happened with Lewis and Simms. You’re going to have to ease your way back in, and this is a good first step.”
Brandon thought about that for a moment. “Well, since I’m far too old to join the navy now, it looks like I’ll be using my engineering degree from Notre Dame to be an apartment super.”
“Very good, then,” Dennis said as he started the truck.
“Let me ask you this, Da—what did Dec say when you told him Colin was going to be in charge?”
“I believe his exact words were ‘better him than me.’”
Brandon tossed his head back and laughed. “I have no doubt.” While he was not at all happy with the job he’d been given, it was a huge relief to have one less secret to carry around.
Chapter 10, Day 31
Dennis O’Malley stared at the glowing embers of the fire in his study, but he was so lost in thought that he didn’t pay much attention to the desperate bursts of flame or the sparks flying from the last remaining scrap of wood. He was still trying to process what Brandon had confessed that afternoon. “He sacrificed his own dreams for me,” Dennis whispered as if saying it out loud might make it easier to believe.
He looked up when Colleen came into the room, tying the belt of her robe tightly around her. His bride was still so lovely, even at nearly sixty years old and after carrying his five children. Her bright red hair had faded to an attractive auburn, and her green eyes, usually so full of mirth, brimmed with concern.
“What are you doing up so late, love? It’s after midnight.”
Dennis held out a hand to bring her onto his lap. She had such a big, commanding personality that sometimes he forgot just how petite she was. Wrapping his arms around her, Dennis felt a surge of tenderness for the tiny dynamo who’d been the center of his life for more than forty years. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Are you thinking about Brandon?”
“Yeah. I just can’t see how this happened. Was I so unreasonable that my own son would be afraid to talk to me about something so important?”
“No, Denny.” Colleen ran a soothing hand over his cheek. “You’re a wonderful father. All the kids love you, and the boys worship you. You know they do.”
“But are they working with me because they want to or because they felt they had to? All I wanted was for them to have the security we didn’t have when we first started out. They’ll never know that awful hand-to-mouth existence we had at first, remember?”
“Of course I do, love. We had a lot of lean years, but you’ve made the business into a great success.”
“It wasn’t really a success until the boys were old enough to work with me,” Dennis admitted. “Do you think Colin and Declan feel the same way Brandon does?”
“Not Colin, that’s for sure. He’s doing exactly what he’s wanted to do his whole life. And Dec certainly seems happy. There was always something different about Brandon, though, wasn’t there?”
“Not always. He changed over th
at one summer when he was ten or eleven. Remember how we couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly mad at the world? We said it was a phase.”
“Except it never ended.”
“I already blame myself for his alcoholism.” Dennis sighed. “And now this.”
Colleen lifted her head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. “Why in the world do you blame yourself for his alcoholism?”
“I drank every day of his life when he lived in this house. I set a terrible example for him and the others.”
“If that were true, Dennis O’Malley, why aren’t the other four alcoholics? Answer me that, now, will you, love?”
“Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“That boy of ours is a complicated soul, but he’s not an alcoholic because of you. Maybe he made some sacrifices by coming home to work with you, but he has a very comfortable life because of that business. We all do. It certainly hasn’t been all bad for him.”
“Back before the drinking got worse, he was so good at what he did. He helped us branch into areas we’d never been into before—septic systems, water supply, environmental stuff. It’s so hard to believe he did all that but hated the job.”
Colleen put both hands on her husband’s face. “If he hated the job, truly hated it, he wouldn’t have lasted sixteen years, Denny. He would’ve found a way out a long time ago.”
“He found a way out, all right. He drank his way out.”
“Well, that might be the case, but now that you know how he feels, you can love him enough to let him go if that’s what he really wants.”
“True enough.” He leaned down to kiss her. “How did you get so wise, my love?”
“I was always wise. You, my friend, were just smart enough to marry me.”
“As I recall, you didn’t give me much choice,” Dennis reminded her as he helped her up. Colleen’s ultimatum in front of his drinking buddies outside a South Boston bar was the stuff of family legend. “It’s them or me, Dennis O’Malley,” she’d said. “Take your pick.” Choosing her was, by far, the best thing he ever did.
She laughed. “Oh, you had a choice. Fortunately for you, you made the right one.”
He stopped her at the doorway to the study. “I’ve never regretted it for one minute. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, love. We’ve had our sorrows, but we’ve been so very blessed. And our Brandon will be just fine.”
Dennis cocked an amused eyebrow at her. “How do you know?”
“Because I’m his mother,” she said with supreme confidence, taking his hand to lead him to bed.
While his parents were talking about him, Brandon lay awake on the other side of town. He had come home to find his small house recently cleaned and his refrigerator stocked. His mother left fresh flowers in a vase on the counter along with a note that said, “Welcome home, love. I left some stew in the fridge for your dinner and some muffins for breakfast. I also changed the sheets on your bed. Colin says we have to let you do your own cleaning and shopping now, but you know you can always call on me if you need anything. We missed you. Come by and see me tomorrow. I love you. Mum.”
Brandon couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent an evening at home that didn’t include at least a six-pack—or two—of beer. For the first time in several weeks, he was sorely tempted to drink, but he read and reread the passage he had written in his journal while somehow managing to overcome the crushing urge to seek out the release he could only find in a good strong drink. As the sleepless night wore on, Brandon realized that living at the apartment building for a while might have its benefits. In a new environment, he might be less likely to fall into old habits.
He turned on his side so he could look out the bedroom window where a half moon lit the night sky. He and Valerie had bought the house together after dating for a year. Brandon bought out her half when they broke up, but her touches remained in the furnishings, paint, and curtains. She had packed only her clothes and a few photos, leaving everything else behind when she moved out. Though it had been a long time coming, in the end Valerie’s departure had been abrupt—and he hadn’t even had the good grace to notice she was gone.
Brandon sighed, knowing there was no sense rehashing the past when the present required all his energy and attention. He planned to attend an AA meeting at eight the next morning, and then he was meeting his father at the apartment building to go over the work that needed to be done. He’d give that project a month, two at the most, biding his time until he could make a smooth return to his supervisory role at O’Malley & Sons.
In the meantime, he’d work twelve hours a day, if that’s what it took, to plow through the repairs needed at the apartment building. He figured the busier he stayed, the less tempted he’d be to fall off the wagon. Working at the apartment building would also put some much-needed space between him and Colin. The last thing he wanted right now was to be taking orders from his younger brother. That would take some major getting used to.
Brandon must’ve finally dozed off, because the rain beating against his bedroom window awakened him at six thirty. For a moment, he lay perfectly still as he woke up in his own bed for the first time in more than a month. It was odd to greet a morning in this room, in this bed, without a dry mouth, a pounding headache, and a desperate need to puke.
Since he had time before his meeting, he got up to go for a run and stretched it to include a sixth mile for the first time since he began running again. Rain and sweat beaded together on his face, and he was breathing hard by the time he returned home to do fifty push-ups and one hundred sit-ups. His body was slowly returning to its former athletic form, and Brandon had noticed a boost in his energy level as well.
Peering into his closet was almost like finding a stranger’s clothing in his house—shirts he didn’t remember buying and jeans that would be too big for him now that he’d lost almost twenty of the thirty extra pounds he’d carried around for the last ten years. He grabbed one of the flannel shirts he wore to work and found a pair of faded jeans that still fit and then shaved, showered, and downed two of his mother’s homemade blueberry muffins on his way out the door.
He chose a meeting in Harwich, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew the first time out. It was enough to be a recovering alcoholic amid his family, coworkers, and friends without having to confront acquaintances from town at AA.
With the exception of a few school buses, Brandon had the road to himself as he drove his company truck north to the Harwich town line, passing the complex where Declan lived on his way. He reached the Harwich Community Center with five minutes to spare before the meeting. Hustling against the blustery cold and rain, Brandon ducked inside the door behind two women. He looked up and gasped when he saw his high school swim team coach among the group gathered for the meeting.
Mr. Coughlin seemed just as surprised to see Brandon and excused himself to come over and say hello. Since the last time Brandon had seen him five or six years ago, Mr. Coughlin’s once dark hair had become shot full of silver, but his blue eyes were just as warm as Brandon remembered, even though there were more lines at the corners now. “How are you, Brandon?” he asked, extending a hand.
Brandon shook his hand, still trying to believe he’d found this larger-than-life figure from his youth at an AA meeting.
“I’m just Joe here,” Mr. Coughlin added. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yes,” Brandon stammered. “It’s been a while.”
“Too long. Is this your first meeting?”
“First one out of rehab. How about you?”
“I’ve been coming to this one for twenty-five years,” Joe confessed.
“Even back when I was on your team?” Brandon asked, astounded.
Joe nodded. “Even then. How long have you been sober?”
“Thirty-one days.” The low number embarrassed Brandon. “I just got out of Laurel Lake yesterday.”
“Good for you. You’re through the first month, a
nd you’re where you belong right now. Come on in, have a seat.” Joe put an arm around Brandon’s shoulders. “This is a great meeting. You’ll like the people.”
When the meeting was over, Brandon, who had chosen not to speak, was still trying to get his mind around the fact that the man who coached him to a full athletic scholarship at Notre Dame had been an alcoholic during all the years they’d spent big chunks of each day together. Brandon called his father to push their meeting at the apartment building back an hour and invited Joe to join him for a cup of coffee.
Since the rain had let up, they walked the two blocks from the community center to a small coffee shop in the center of town. Once they were seated in a booth, Joe said, “You look good. As fit as ever.”