Handle With Care

by Patrice Wilton

  “Well, he can advise you better than anyone.”

  “I know. I hate the idea of having him on medication at such an early age, but if it’ll help him at school—socially and academically—I’ve got to consider it.” She slipped back down into the bed and laid her head on his chest. “It breaks my heart to think of other kids bullying Josh, of him sitting alone at lunch and recess, without any friends.”

  “If a low-dosage drug can improve his symptoms, then he’ll blend in and make friends easier. I’m all for it.”

  She smiled. “Why do you always say exactly the right thing to make me feel better?”

  “I know you.” He touched her left breast. “In here.”

  After a few minutes of kissing, he began gentle stroking. He kissed her softly, and massaged her shoulders and back, her legs, and between them too. Her tensions melted away, and for once she lay back and allowed him to be in charge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Days later, Shane got a call in the middle of the night. Even though he hadn’t been sleeping, the sound of the phone at 4 a.m. startled him.

  Fearing the worst, he reached for the phone, his hand shaking and his heart hammering. “Shane here.”

  “It’s me, Jake. Sorry to be calling you at this hour, but we got some bad news.” He cleared his throat. “It’s Brent. His helo has gone down.”

  “Fuck no.” Shane sank into a chair and rubbed his eyes. “Give it to me straight. Is he dead?”

  “All we know is that his helicopter was brought down by small arms fire.” Jake swore. “Six men were on board, and Brent and the men are still out there.”

  “What do you mean?” He was wide awake now, and pacing the room.

  “Look, Dad just got the call minutes ago from a senior official in Washington. He said at the crash site the insurgents were firing weapons at the helicopter in an attempt to blow it up, but the QRF forces were on them. The Afghans are wiry little bastards, I’m telling you. Can climb those steep terrains like a pack of invisible mountain goats.”

  The Quick Reaction Force were the first to be called in a crisis and had been on the Taliban in a matter of minutes, but couldn’t get near. Since John Harrington was a retired general, it was not surprising that he’d been given this information.

  “Shit.” Shane sucked in a painful breath. “I told Brent not to go, but the stubborn jerk wouldn’t listen.” He continued to stalk the room, his adrenaline fueling his anger.

  “I know, Shane. We all did.”

  “Fucking bastards. Wish we could obliterate every damn one.” Shane gritted his teeth and snarled, “You know that the Taliban brag about it, don’t you? They like to take credit for every kill. Even when it’s friendly fire.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know all about it. But look, Shane, there’s no sense in getting all worked up right now.” Jake sounded like the voice of reason, which ticked Shane off. “We don’t know anything for sure,” he added.

  “Good God. He’s your brother,” Shane cried. “You know he’s either dead or injured. Isn’t that enough?”

  “You’re right.” Jake made a choking sound, then in a husky voice he spoke again. “This isn’t easy for any of us, but I’m trying to think positively, and you should do the same. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Look, Jake, I’m sorry if I sounded harsh. I know how much you love Brent, and how your family look out for each other.”

  “That’s all right. I know how you feel.” Jake had done two tours in Iraq; he knew the dangers for his brother better than anyone. “I want to get my hands on the bastards too.”

  “Dammit. I feel so helpless!” Shane made a fist with his hand and thumped the table. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “I can’t believe that our own forces can’t get to him. Some of these outposts are in really bad positions. They’re like sitting ducks out there.”

  “I hear you.” Jake added, “But we have to trust our government that they know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t put our boys in harm’s way.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I have to. The commanders make difficult choices, but they know what they’re doing, and back their men. To think otherwise, well, let’s say it would shake my very core.”

  “I know, Jake.” Shane remembered Brent’s last visit. “Hey, your father’s all right? Last I heard he’d had a stroke and was on life support.”

  “You know you can’t keep a good man down,” Jake said smoothly. “Not only did he pull through, but he’s getting better every day. Still has partial paralysis on his left side, but things are looking up. He’s in rehab, but he can speak and feed himself, and his cognitive skills weren’t affected.”

  “That’s great, Jake. Really great.” Shane’s thoughts returned to Brent. “Where did the helo go down?”

  “Happened in the Alasay district of Kapisa Province, in East Afghanistan. It was a search and rescue mission, and obviously the Taliban were just waiting for them.”

  “Thanks, Jake, for calling me right away, and keep me posted.”

  “I will. Dad’s already on it. He’ll get the information before anybody.”

  “Give him my best, will you?”

  “Sure thing.”

  After they said their good-byes, Shane couldn’t sit still. His stomach churned, and he felt as though he’d burst out of his skin. He began to prowl the apartment, as antsy as he’d been the first week without a drink.

  Just the thought of booze made his throat dry and his hands shake. He wasn’t going to drink. No way. No how. He’d made a promise to himself, and Lauren deserved better from him.

  Lauren. He needed to talk to her. She always understood everything, and just hearing her voice would act like a tonic. He knew Josh would be in bed, but she’d be certain to answer her cell. Maybe she would even allow him to come over.

  He dialed her number and it was busy. Called again, and no answer. He called her home number and left a message. Where the heck was she? He needed her more than ever.

  Maybe he’d jump in his car and drive over. Her welcoming smile, the warmth of her embrace, oh God, please let that be enough. He didn’t want to slide down this sinkhole again. This blackness of despair would eat him up. Every minute that he sat there, his shaking grew worse, and his thoughts turned to the bottle.

  He got up and tossed his cell phone to the floor. No use. Tonight nothing could keep him away from drowning his fears. Not even Lauren.

  There had to be some booze hidden in the house somewhere. Surely, Brent hadn’t gotten rid of every ounce of alcohol before letting him move in? If he’d been so opposed, he’d never have brought over that six-pack. Come on, come on, it had to be here. Brent was a social drinker but he always had Scotch in the house. And he used to have a collection of fine wine. Where would he stash it?

  Shane looked under the beds, in the back of the cupboards, closets, storage area in the small guest room. Like a tunnel rat, he darted one way and another, head swimming, his mind focused on only one thing. Booze. He needed it now and plenty of it. Damn near trashed the place looking, and when he came up empty, he stormed out of the apartment in search of an all-night liquor shop. He found a convenience store, bought a bottle of Scotch, and didn’t wait until he got home to taste it.

  He cracked it open in the parking lot, and without thinking, he closed his eyes and took a swallow. It burned his throat on the way down, and tears sprang into his eyes.

  He wiped the tears away and poured some more down his throat. After several slugs, he wedged the bottle under his arm and walked the short distance home. He stumbled over to the elevator, pushed the button, and collapsed against the elevator wall for the ride to his floor, still sucking on the bottle.

  By the time he reached the apartment door, he was having trouble focusing. He had to stab at the lock several times before the key slid in, and he fell through the open doorway. The bottle slid through his hands, but he managed to catch it with his knees before it hit the fl
oor.

  He slipped down, leaning against the door, and took another long slug of Scotch. Tears slid down his face, and he almost gagged, but he didn’t stop. He kept drinking, needing to punish himself, to hurt until he could stop hurting, to drink until he felt nothing, remembered nothing, and cared about nothing.

  Lauren had been called in to work as there had been a twelve-car pile-up on the freeway, and ER needed an extra set of hands. When she returned home at 4 a.m. Julie told her that Shane had called and left a message.

  She thanked Julie, told her to take the day off, and crept into bed. She slept until seven-thirty when little hands woke her up.

  “Mom? Wake up. I’m going to be late for school.”

  She blinked, stared at the clock, trying to figure out if it was morning or night. She glanced at her son. School? Holy crap.

  “Mom. Mom. I’m already dressed. Hurry up.”

  “Just a second, honey. I’m not quite awake.”

  “Today, we’re going to the science museum, remember? It’s a bus trip. You signed permission. Remember?”

  The fog in her brain cleared. “Yes, yes, that’s right.” She yawned, and sat up. “Can you have some cereal while I hurry and get dressed? I’ll get you to school on time, don’t worry.”

  “Okay, ’cuz I don’t want to miss it.”

  Lauren’s head hurt, as she swept her legs out of bed and stood up. She was so exhausted she felt like she could sleep on her feet. Of all days for the museum trip, it would have to be today.

  She stumbled into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, then turned on the shower. She stood under the warm water for a few minutes, then stepped out, not feeling any better than she had a minute before. She squirted some drops into her bloodshot eyes, brushed her teeth and hair, and put on a pair of shorts and a tee.

  Josh was standing at the door, school bag in hand.

  “Hurry up, Mom. I don’t want to be late.”

  Lauren grabbed her car keys, slipped her feet into flip-flops, and then turned to her son. “You haven’t brushed your hair or teeth. Do that, and I’ll get the car running.”

  He grumbled but did as he was told. A minute later they were in the car, driving the five blocks to his school. She dropped him off with a kiss and a wave, then returned home to fall asleep for another three hours.

  Feeling a little more human, she made a pot of coffee and checked her phone messages. There was a call from Shane on the house line and two missed calls on her cell. She called back and got no answer, then wandered around her place, cleaning up, making beds, figuring out what they’d have for dinner.

  It was only eleven and she had several free hours before picking up Josh from school. She called Shane again, not sure if he was at class or working today, but was unable to reach him. She couldn’t sit around with nothing to do, so Lauren decided to go to the hospital and check on a few of the patients she’d patched up last night. Several were on the critical list, and might not have made it through the night. She knew it wasn’t her job to care, but as a human being with a heart, she had no choice.

  After she made her round and learned that everyone was still stable, she called Shane’s cell again, but he never picked up. She pushed him to the back of her mind and hurried over to the school, wanting to be outside when the school bus returned.

  Josh was one of the last kids off the bus, and he grinned and waved when he saw her. He ran up, jumping up and down. “Hey, Mom. We had a super-duper time. Some of the mothers went with us. Too bad you didn’t come. Next time, I want you to come. Okay?”

  She kissed the top of his head. “Sure, Champ. If I can.”

  “Yeah. I know. You always have to work.”

  She felt a nudge of guilt at the disappointed look on her child’s face. “Next time, if I have enough notice, I’ll make sure I ask for the day off. Okay? Unless there’s an emergency, I’ll be there, I promise.”

  He didn’t say anything, then his face brightened. “Maybe I could ask Shane. He’d come, I know he would.”

  “He would want to, that’s for sure.” When they got home she tried calling Shane once again, but still no answer.

  Josh went to his bedroom to play with his Legos, while Lauren made spaghetti for dinner. He came out a half hour later and turned on TV. She heard the familiar lyrics of SpongeBob, her son’s favorite show, and watched him for a few minutes as he sat there engrossed with the characters he knew and loved.

  He looked up. “Spaghetti for dinner? Yum. I had a hot dog for lunch and some chips, yogurt, and a sippy drink.”

  “I’m glad you had a good day. Who did you sit with on the bus?”

  “A new guy at school. He’s nice.”

  “That’s good, honey. I’m glad you made a new friend.”

  He nodded and went back to his TV show. She called Shane once more and left him a detailed message but he never returned her call. Her feelings were hurt, and she was tired from having worked all night, and was not in the mood to chase him down.

  After dinner, she bathed Josh and turned in early, but thoughts of Shane interrupted her sleep. She had a niggling worry that something was wrong. Why would he not call?

  The following day she didn’t hear from him either, and by nighttime she was quite convinced that her fears were valid. Shane would not go this long without calling her. Something had happened and she had to know what.

  She called Julie to say something had come up and could she work a few extra hours?

  “Of course, Dr. Reynolds. You know I’m always happy to stay whenever you need me.”

  “I know, and that’s one of the things I love about you.”

  Julie laughed. “And why you pay me the big bucks too.”

  “You’re worth every cent. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Julie added, “I can always sleep on the couch if you’re very late.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll try to make it before midnight.”

  When Lauren left work, she drove straight to Shane’s apartment and pounded on his door. When he didn’t answer, she shouted through the door, “Shane, it’s me, Lauren. Are you all right?”

  No answer. She pounded harder. Finally, she heard a noise on the other side of the door. Major barked, and made scratching noises.

  “Go away,” a husky voice answered.

  “Shane? Open up. I’m worried about you.”

  “Said go away.” He slurred the words, which made Lauren even more anxious. Had he been drinking?

  “Can you open this door? Do you need help?” She fought back panic. “Please speak to me.” She tried the door handle, but it didn’t budge. “I need to see you.”

  Someone in another apartment peeked out. “Is everything okay?” a middle-aged Hispanic man asked.

  “I don’t know. Have you seen the young man that lives here?”

  “Not in a few days.” He eyed her with curiosity. “You a friend?”

  “Yes, and I’m worried about him.”

  “There’s an office downstairs. Always have a manager on duty.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get him if I need to.” She knocked again, more quietly this time. “Shane, if you don’t open up in the next minute, I’m getting the manager and coming in. I have to know you’re okay.”

  The curious neighbor stood there watching her. “I’m a doctor,” she told him. “He’s in good hands.”

  “You want me to go downstairs and get help?”

  “No. Not yet.” She heard a bumping noise, some cursing, and then Shane fumbling with the lock.

  “He’s coming now,” she told the neighbor. The door slid open, and she walked into the dark.

  She didn’t see him at first, but then her eyes adjusted to the dim light. He was disheveled, unshaven, and reeking of stale booze.

  When she realized that he hadn’t suffered a stroke, her worry turned to anger. “What happened?” she asked, trying to hold back her emotions. She didn’t know if she wanted to scream at him or cry.
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br />   “Had a little party.” He waved an empty Scotch bottle at her. “I’d offer you a drink, but as you can see, I’m all out.”

  “You think this is funny?” She trembled with rage. “You dare laugh at this?” Her gaze swept around the room, and she could see the carnage he’d done. He’d been sober for a year. What had driven him to this?

  “Shane.” Her voice cracked. “How could you do this?”

  He threw the bottle against the far wall. Major whimpered and ran off to a corner. Lauren backed away in fear as shattered glass littered the floor. This was not the Shane she knew. This wild-eyed creature was frightening her to death. She swallowed hard, tasting the acid bile that rose in her throat.

  “Why’d you come?” he asked. “Go home. Go back to Josh.” He smashed his fist into the wall, breaking through the plaster and wounding his one good hand.

  “What are you doing?” In a second she was by his side, inspecting his hand. Already it was swelling, the skin turning red. “Look what you’ve done. What’s happened? Please talk to me, Shane.”

  He stumbled into her, and she smelled the booze on his breath. She recoiled. “Why are you crying?” he asked.

  “I’m not. You’re just scaring me, that’s all.” She folded her arms around her chest, holding the hurt, the anger deep inside. If she let it out, she’d say things that could never be unsaid.

  And no matter how devastated she felt, he must somehow feel worse.

  “Come sit down and tell me what’s happened,” she said in a gentle voice. “I want to understand.”

  “Nothing to tell.” He hung his head, staring at the ground. “I’m a useless shit. Now you know.”

  “Oh, Shane. You are not. Don’t even think that about yourself. I love you, but I can’t believe you did this.” She bit her lip, and a tear dribbled out of her eye. She could never allow an alcoholic in her life. Not after losing her husband to a drunk driver—a man who had just been released from rehab and stopped in a bar to celebrate.

  “Your hand,” she said softly. “You could have broken it.” She felt her heart splitting in two when she asked, “Why? Why would you do that?” She put her hands in the air. “And this?”