Chapter 10

 

 

     Cars were lined up on both sides of the street in front of Adriano's house.  Because of this, I had to circle the block twice and ended up parking two streets away.  I shut the truck's ignition off, but remained in the cab a few minutes.   Paying a condolence call on Adriano and his sons was not only something I felt I had to do, but it was also something I wanted to do.  Problem was, I didn't know how I'd be received.  I hadn't talked to Carlos at all since A.J. had been found.  Between me being busy helpin' my brother, and Carlos being busy helpin' his cousin, neither one of us had time to contact the other.  Now I was regretting that I hadn't taken a moment to give him a call.  At least I'd know if I was welcome in Adriano's home or not.  Not that I hadn't shown up places before where I wasn't welcome.  That was nothing new to me.  It's just that under these circumstances...well, I didn't want to make things worse for everyone than they already were.

 

     Adriano's front yard and porch held the overflow of visitors.  Children who were too young to understand the graveness of the situation ran and played on the lawn.  Men who didn't want to deal with the heavy emotions that were inside the house, stood around smoking cigarettes and talking quietly while keeping an eye on the little kids.

 

     I recognized many of the men as being among those who had aided in the search.  I didn't sense any animosity as I weaved my way through them.  Each of them said hello to me as I passed by.  Several asked me how A.J. was.

 

     Before I had a chance to knock on the door, Carlos opened it.  He must have seen me comin' up the walk.  He laid a thick hand on my shoulder and squeezed.  We'd been friends too long for him not to know how I felt about this entire situation. 

 

     The little bungalow was full of people like I had expected it would be.  Subdued voices conversing in Spanish came from all parts of the house.  The kitchen was brimming over with women and food.

 

     Someone moved away from the couch so Adriano could see who had just come in the door.  That person having just come in the door being me. 

 

     Adriano was sitting between his sons.  He held a picture of Erika in one hand, and rosary beads in the other.  His face was drawn and pale, his eyes red from weeping. 

 

     We looked at each other for a long time.  I could so easily read his pain.  He could so easily read my guilt.  Finally, he handed the picture and beads to Nate, stood up and walked over to me.  He raised his arms, and for just a second I thought he was gonna deck me.  And if he had, I wouldn't have done a thing to defend myself.  I would have accepted whatever kind of beating he wanted to rain on me, and would have figured I deserved every bruise and broken bone I got. 

 

     Rather than feeling Adriano’s fist connect with my jaw, however, I felt him wrap his arms around me.   He hugged me and cried into my shoulder.  I reached around him and hugged him back.  I fought to contain the tears that were threatening to spill out from underneath my closed eyelids.

 

     When I felt his body sag a bit I led him back to the couch.  I perched myself on the coffee table, sitting across from him and his sons.  The boys didn't bear any ill will against me either for what had happened to their sister.  They both reached out and shook my hand, graciously accepting my words of sympathy over Erika's death.

 

     Despite his own grief and tremendous loss, the first thing Adriano asked me was, "How is A.J., Rick?"

     "He's doin' okay.  They...beat him pretty badly.  He should be in the hospital, but he refused to let our doctor admit him.  He's exhausted and in a lot of pain, but he's hangin' in there."

 

       We talked a while about what the police had found out, and exchanged information in regards to what Abby had told me, and what Gary Childers had told the Garcias. 

 

     "Detective Childers was here," Adriano said.  "You just missed him.  He said he had been over to see A.J and that A.J. was able to give him a lot of information.   He said he thought they would be making some arrests very soon."

 

     I nodded.  "I hope so."

 

     "I want them, Rick," came the vehement words.   "I want the monsters who did this to my daughter."

 

     I looked into the man's stormy eyes, and took note of his clenched fists. 

 

"I know you do, Adriano.  I know you do.   So do I."

 

     The emotion of that moment rolled out as quickly as it had rolled in.

 

     When Adriano spoke again it was to make a quiet request.  

 

"Rick, I would like you to be a pallbearer at Erika's funeral on Tuesday."

 

     That caught me off guard.  It was the last thing I had expected the man to ask of me.

 

     "Adriano...I'm honored, but I don't think--"

 

     "No, Rick, it is what my sons and I want.  We want Erika to be carried to her grave by the men in her life who she considered to be her friends.   You and A.J. were two of those men, Rick.  If A.J.'s injuries would allow him to be at the funeral, I would be asking the same thing of him."

 

     "Adriano, I--" My eyes must have been clearly broadcasting the blame I thought I was doing a good job of keeping hidden.

 

      Adriano laid a hand on my knee. 

 

"Rick.  Do not do this.  Do not burden yourself with guilt that is not yours to bear.  Do not allow A.J. to do this either.  I am the one who came to the two of you. I am the one who persuaded you to take this case.  I used your friendship with Carlos as leverage to get you to take my case.  A.J. told me that he had concerns.  I am well aware that both of you had concerns.  If anyone should be the guilty one it is me.  I should be the one to feel much guilt over what my drinking drove my daughter to do, for that in itself is where all of this started.  But guilt is a very unproductive thing, Rick.  For all of us.  We each have enough pain to deal with over what has happened.  We do not need to add to it."

 

     I swallowed past the lump in my throat.  "I just...I'm just very sorry that this happened.  Because of my friendship with Carlos you turned to me.  It was never my intention--"

 

     "Rick," the man interrupted softly.  "If you and A.J. had turned me down I would have found another detective agency.  And had I been forced to do that, I doubt another agency would have cared so much about my daughter.  I doubt that two other detectives would have become my daughter's friends the way both you and A.J. did.  If I have anything to be thankful for in all of this, it's that when Erika died, A.J. was with her.  For as bad as things must have been, I'm sure she took some comfort in that."

 

     I had to admit Adriano amazed me.  If our positions were reversed, I wasn't sure I could have said such kind things to the man whose detective agency had been hired to protect my child.  

 

     I left not long after that, agreeing to be a pallbearer at the funeral on Tuesday afternoon.

 

     It was after six when I got back to the house.  Bud and Edie were gone by then.  Mom told me with a smile that A.J.'d had the good sense to sleep through their visit.  He'd also slept through our aunts' visit, but had just woken up when a couple of his friends stopped by.  Not long after they left he ate a late lunch and had Mom call Janet.  She was still upstairs talking to him when I arrived home from Adriano's.

 

     I was sitting on the couch, half dozing, and half watching the news, when Janet came downstairs thirty minutes later.  She said A.J. was sleeping, and then declined Mom’s offer of eating supper with us. Janet said she could tell Mom and I were both tired.  She was right, we were.  After Janet left Mom and I ate.  By eight o’clock Mom was headed home, and I was headed for bed.  I checked on A.J. before I turned in.  He was sound asleep, and stayed that way for the remainder of the night.

 

______________________

 

 

     Monday was a quiet day.  A.J. slept a lot, and so did I.  He also started moving around the house on his own a bit, and though still in a lot of pain, insisted on eating supper at the table with us.  Well, I should say us and Janet, since Mom had talked to her during the day and invited her to eat with us that evening.  It was the first solid meal Mom was allowing A.J.  Janet and I teased him unmercifully about the steady diet of Cream Of Wheat, chicken broth, Jell-O, and diluted grape juice Mom had had him on for almost two full days.  Every time Mom would offer him more roast beef or another helping of mashed potatoes, the meal he had requested, we'd tell Mom that we didn't think he should have anymore.  That she should just make him eat Cream Of Wheat and let us have the rest. 

 

     Mom insisted that Janet remain seated at the table and visit with A.J. while she and I cleaned up after dinner.  I didn't pay any attention to what the two of them were talking about, as Mom and I were carrying on our own conversation.  Not long after the dishes were done, pain and fatigue forced A.J. to bid the two women good night.  Janet kissed him on the cheek as he and I stood so I could help him get ready for bed.  He kissed her in return, then kissed Mom.  About the time A.J. was settling back against his pillows, I heard Janet's car pull out of the driveway.    

 

     Mom left not long after that.  I stayed up and watched part of Johnny Carson, then went to bed myself around eleven forty-five.

 

     I was woken out of a sound sleep two hours later by a scream that ended in Erika's name.  By the time I got Rex off my legs and tossed the blankets aside I could hear A.J. retching.

 

     Once again I flicked on the hall light as I passed, but this time I also flicked on the bright ceiling light in A.J.’s bedroom as I entered. Immediately the strong, sour odor of vomit assaulted my senses.

 

     A disheveled A.J. was sitting up in bed.  Beads of sweat dotted his pale face.  He appeared to be completely disoriented.

 

     He didn't even look up at me when I called his name.  He just kept staring off into a far corner of the room, blinking rapidly and swallowing convulsively.

 

     I laid my hand on his back.  "A.J.?"

 

     Despite the fact that I had turned on the light and had already called his name once, I think that was the first time he realized I was in the room with him.  He turned his head and looked at me.  For just a second longer he was kind of vacant around the eyes.  Then suddenly it must have all come together for him.  He must have freed himself from whatever place the nightmare had him trapped in.

 

     "A.J.?"

 

     He bowed his head and rubbed a shaky hand over his face, being careful to avoid his swollen eye.   He took as deep a breath as his ribs would allow. 

 

"Yeah.  Yeah. I'm okay."

 

     I carefully folded back the blanket and sheet, trying to keep the mess contained.  He didn't seem to have any of it on him, nor could I see any on the carpeting, or on the comforter that was turned back neatly at the foot of the bed. 

 

     "Come on," I urged.  "Let's get you to the bathroom."

 

     I helped him stand on rubber legs.  It took us a long minute to get to our destination, but we made it there without anything further coming up.

 

     He sat down on the closed toilet lid, immediately pillowing his head in his arms on the vanity.  I crouched down beside him.

 

     "Are you gonna be sick again?"

 

     His reply was quiet and muffled.  "No.  At least I don't think so."

 

     I waited there with him for a few minutes until I was fairly certain he was telling me the truth.   For lack of a better idea, I grabbed a big, thick bath towel out of the linen closet and threw it over his shoulders and back.  He was was dotted with goose bumps and shivering.   

 

     "If you think you're gonna be sick again, call me.  I'm gonna be in your room changin' the bed."

 

     For the first time since we'd entered the bathroom he raised his head.  His face was as white as porcelain.  

 

"Rick, no.  I don't want you to have to do that.  I'll do—“

 

"A.J., just sit here.  I'll take care of it."

 

     Now that he was feeling a little better, I could tell he was embarrassed over the mess he'd made in the other room. 

 

"No, Rick--"

 

     I laid a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to remain seated.  "A.J., look.  It doesn't bother me, so don't let it bother you.  This kinda stuff happens to all of us once n' a while.  Besides, I seem to remember a time or two when you cleaned up after me without complaining about it."

 

     I was royally hung-over both those times and the mess ended up on his living room carpeting, but he had the good grace not to remind me of that fact right at the moment.  Obviously I owed him one.

 

     I gave his back a final pat and told him to just sit there until I returned.  It didn't take me more than five minutes to get the bed stripped of the soiled blanket and sheet, and to put clean ones on in their place.  In another five minutes I had the washing machine going with the offending items inside.

 

     I returned to the bathroom to once again find A.J. sitting with his head resting on his arms on the vanity top.  I could tell he'd moved around long enough to rinse his mouth out with Scope and brush his teeth.

 

     I crouched in front of him and laid a hand on his knee. 

 

"How ya' feelin'?"

 

     "I'm okay."

 

     "Was that little...accident in there your way of makin' a statement about Mom's cooking?"  I teased lightly.

 

     He couldn't help but smile as he lifted his head and looked at me.  "Let's put it this way, that wasn't my intention."

 

     "You think the roast was too much for your system?"

 

     "Yeah.  Probably." 

 

     He and I were both doing a good job of skating around the obvious.  Neither one of us had mentioned the nightmare.  And neither one of us did.  At least not directly.

 

     I was just about to suggest that I help him back to bed when he sighed wearily.  He rested his elbows on the vanity and scrubbed his hands over his face the way a person will do when they're so tired their eyes burn. 

 

     "Rick?"

 

     "Yeah?"

 

     He stopped moving his hands and just kind of left them as they were, covering his eyes and most of his face. 

 

     "I'm...I’m sorry."

 

     "A.J., I already told ya' there's nothin' to be sorry about.  I didn't mind cleanin' everything up. You couldn't help it. It was an accident so don't worry about--"

 

     "No.  What I mean is...I'm sorry I let you and Carlos down."   

 

     "What do you mean by that?"  I asked warily, though I knew perfectly well what he meant. 

 

     "Erika. I let you and Carlos down because of what happened to--"

 

     I moved my hand from his knee to underneath the towel on his back.  "A.J.  No. That's not true.  You didn't let me or Carlos down.  You didn't let anyone down."

 

     It was me who let you down, kid, and I'm so damn sorry about that.

 

     He let the subject drop there, and so did I.  Though I'm sure we both knew we shouldn't have.  I think later, we both had a lot of regrets over the fact that we did.

 

     When he finally moved his hands away from his face I thought it looked like he had tears in his eyes.  Because I didn't want to acknowledge that, I convinced myself that he was tired, and the moisture I was seeing was from the bright lights and his weariness.

 

     I got him settled back into bed and sat there with him long after he told me to go on back to bed myself.  I kept waiting for him to bring up the nightmare, but he didn't.  And neither did I.  He did ask me not to tell Mom he'd gotten sick.  I promised him I wouldn't.  And we both knew if I didn't tell her he'd gotten sick, then I wouldn't tell her about the dream since one kind of precipitated the other.     

 

     He finally fell into a deep sleep about an hour and a half after the nightmare had first awakened us both.  I sat there with him for quite a while after that.  I wondered why it was suddenly so hard for us to talk to one another about something that had deeply affected us both.  We'd never had that trouble before.  Or at least not since 'Nam.  I vowed then, that I'd talk to him in the morning. 

 

     I think at the time, I really meant it.          

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

 

     Neither Mom nor I mentioned Erika's funeral to A.J., and he didn't bring it up either.  We knew perfectly well he had to know the day and time it was taking place.  Those facts had been stated in nearly every newspaper article about her murder since Sunday.  

 

     Mom came over to the house shortly after nine o'clock on Tuesday morning.  I wanted to go to the office for a while.  I hadn't been there since Saturday.  I figured by now it would take me a good two hours to return all the phone messages that had piled up in the past six days.  A.J. told me to bring the mail home to him, that he'd sort through it and take care of it.  I thought that sounded like a good idea.  For one thing I hate sorting the mail and paying the bills, and for another I figured it would help him get his mind off the situation at hand.

 

     I left the house right after Mom got there.  A.J. was reclining against several pillows on the couch, reading.  I told him I was going to the office and would then be running some errands, so probably wouldn't be back until late in the afternoon. 

 

     If he knew I was going to Erika's funeral, he never let on.  Just told me he'd see me later.

 

     I stayed at the office until almost noon, then went by the boat to change into my black suit and tie.

 

     Erika's funeral was scheduled to begin at one-thirty.  There hadn't been a wake the previous evening, but there was a viewing at the church from eleven a.m. until the start of the service. 

 

     The large Catholic church in Adriano's neighborhood was brimming with people when I got there.  Of course, close to three quarters of those in attendance were relatives, with the rest of the crowd being made up of neighbors, school friends of all three of the Garcia kids, and the teachers from Erika's freshman classes at St. Joseph's.

 

     Adriano, Jim, and Nate, were standing up by the open casket accepting the tears, hugs, and words of sympathy from the people who passed by.  As I got closer to the coffin I could see that Adriano had Erika dressed in one of her school uniforms.  He told me later that's how he wanted to remember her.  That it reminded him that for just a little while, both he and his daughter had been granted a second chance.

 

     Adriano gave me a hug when I approached.  In Spanish he thanked me for protecting his child and for being her friend.  I couldn't have spoken past the lump in my throat to answer him had I wanted to.

 

     It took me a minute to decide whether or not I really wanted to gaze upon the young girl in that white casket.  I had to reach up and wipe at the tears that trickled down my cheeks as I did. 

 

     The undertaker had done a good job of covering the bruises on her face.  If you didn't look too closely you would have never known her death had been a violent one.  As the old cliche¢ goes, she looked like she was sleeping.  Her head rested on a satin pillow, her long dark hair fanning out around her shoulders.    

 

     I couldn't look at her without thinking of the afternoon she and I had sat together eating ice cream.  I thought of the hopes and dreams that would never be.  

 

     Right before I moved away, I said in a choked whisper, "I'm so sorry, sweetie.  I'm so damn sorry." 

 

      Flowers of every kind were stacked all around the coffin and on the alter.  I saw the dozen white roses I had ordered.   It had taken me a long time to decide what to write on the card.  I had finally settled on, ‘Erika's Friends. Rick and A.J.’

 

     I stood off to the side talking to Carlos for a while.  He was staying close to Adriano, offering what support he could.  I knew he had been a tremendous help to his cousin during the past week.

 

     Ten minutes before the service was to start I went and sat in the second row with Eva and Carlos's widowed mother.  Both women greeted me warmly, Mrs. Escobar talking to me in Spanish.

 

     As the time for the service grew closer people began looking for seats.  There was only a couple of folks left visiting with Adriano and his sons when Carlos walked over to where I was sitting. 

 

     I started to slide over, thinking he was coming to take his seat.  Instead, he leaned down and said softly, "Ricky...A.J. just walked in."

 

     "What?  I asked, certain he was mistaken. 

     "A.J. just walked--"

 

     I turned around, craning my neck to see over the rows of heads behind me.

 

     My old friend directed me.  "He sat down in the last pew on this side."  

 

      Carlos moved aside as I rose and brushed past him. 

 

"Thanks, amigo."

 

     The church had seventy-five pews on each side.  Every one but the last two were filled to capacity.   The pew A.J. had sat down in was empty. He had slid over a little ways from the aisle as if he didn't want to be noticed.  Like me, he was dressed in a black suit and tie.

 

     I slid in beside him.  He glanced at me briefly, then looked away.

 

     I only asked him one question. 

 

"Did you come here by yourself?"

 

     He gave a small nod of his head.  His whole demeanor was that of a little boy who'd done wrong and was more than willing to accept the scolding he knew he deserved.  If the situation was different, I would have gotten a great deal of amusement out of his humble contriteness.  It wasn't often I saw A.J. like that. 

 

     I didn't give him the tongue-lashing he was expecting for driving around San Diego in the condition he was in.  Not to mention the fact he was on medication that specifically stated on the label, ‘Do not operate a motor vehicle or machinery while taking this.’  I didn't even remind him that the only place he was supposed to be at the present time was home in bed.  All I did was reach over and give his knee a little pat. 

 

"The service is gonna start in just a couple of minutes."

 

     He nodded.  "I know." 

 

     I found out later from Mom that she and A.J. had eaten an early lunch, then he had headed upstairs telling her he was going to nap for a while.  She had gone out onto the deck to read, and had ended up falling asleep herself.  Somewhere during that time period A.J. had gotten dressed and left the house.  The first Mom knew that he was gone was when she woke up and walked into the kitchen for a glass of iced tea.  She found the note he had left on the refrigerator door telling her where he was.  By that time it was after two o'clock, so there wasn't much she could do except alternate between praying that he'd gotten to the church all right, and vowing to herself that she was going to clobber him a good one when he walked back in the door.

 

     Because of the people still talking to Adriano the funeral mass started ten minutes late.  This was the church the Garcia family had gone to since before Erika was born.  The priest talked of having baptized her, and having officiated at her first communion.  He also touched briefly on her mother's funeral only two years earlier.  He then talked of how much Erika had grieved over her mother's passing, and how happy Erika must now be in Heaven after having so recently been reunited with the woman she had missed so much.

 

     "It is not for us on Earth to understand God's plan," the man told the congregation.  "None of us knows what God has in store for us, or why he calls some of us home to Heaven sooner than he does others.  The thing we must all remember today, and take comfort in, is that Erika is with God.  And with God Erika is happy.  With God Erika will no longer suffer. 

 

     "We know Erika's last days on this Earth were not easy ones.  We don't understand how young people can do such evil to one another.  Perhaps it is not for us to understand.  Therefore today, I ask each and every one of you to remember the good.  Remember Erika as the little girl who loved to jump rope, play hopscotch, and ride her bike.  Remember her as the child who adored her older brothers.  Remember her as the daughter, and granddaughter, and sister, and niece, and cousin, and friend, and student, who brought a special ray of sunshine into your life.

 

     "And, today as well, remember in your prayers, Andrew Simon, the man who was injured trying to protect Erika.  Remember that with all the evil in the world, there's still some good.  Still some good and decent people who will extend their hands in an effort to reach out and help others, without considering what the consequences might be to themselves."

 

     I looked over at A.J.  His head was bowed as if he was trying to hide from me the tears that were steadily coursing down his face.  I reached up and put an arm around his shoulders.  We sat like that for the rest of the service.

 

     When the priest called for the pallbearers to come forward I quietly told A.J., "I gotta go up front for a few minutes.  Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?"

 

     He nodded his head.  If he was surprised that Adriano had asked me to be a pallbearer, he didn't show it.  As much as I hated to, I left him sitting there all alone with his head bowed. 

 

     The priest encouraged the congregation to come forward and pass by the casket to say a final goodbye to Erika.  The majority of those in attendance did as the man requested.  It wasn't lost on me, however, that A.J. chose to remain seated.   

 

     After everyone had sat back down the casket was closed and the priest offered a final prayer.  Up until this point all the tears that had been shed during the service were done so quietly.  I think the finality of the whole affair is what caused Adriano to break down and sob openly.  His sons were able to comfort him, which enabled Carlos, who was also a pallbearer, to remain standing across the casket from me.

 

      A.J. wouldn't even look up as we carried the casket down the aisle.  I glanced at him as we approached, but he remained just as I had left him.

 

     I squinted when we walked into the bright afternoon sunshine.  It was a beautiful, warm day.  Not at all unlike the day just a week earlier when I had taken Erika for ice cream. 

 

     Erika was gently loaded into the back of the hearse by me, Carlos, three of her cousins, two favorite uncles, and a boy from her neighborhood who was a childhood friend.  Her father and brothers stood close by.

 

     I turned to scan the people exiting the church.  I thought A.J. would be one of the first out the door since he'd been sitting in the back row.  When he wasn't, and when the minutes grew and he didn't appear, I started to worry.  I was just gettin' ready to push past people to go in and look for him, when I saw his blond head.   Eva and Carlos's mother were on either side of him, both women with their arms linked firmly through his.

 

     I waited at the bottom of the steps for them, smiling my thanks as the ladies turned my brother over to me.  Eva told me later that the church was almost empty when she and her mother-in-law passed by A.J. still seated in the back pew with his head bowed.  She said he didn't even seem aware of what was going on around him.   She had to reach out and touch his arm to gain his attention.   It was when she asked him to walk out with them, that he seemed to notice the service was over.      

 

     I wasn't about to let A.J. drive by himself, a fact he must have known since he didn't protest when I led him to my pickup truck. 

 

     I helped him make the step into the cab.  "Carlos and I will bring the Camaro home later."

 

     Once I got him settled I walked around and climbed in on the driver's side.  I studied him for a moment.  The sunglasses he had just put on hid the fact that his eyes were red from the tears he had shed in the church.  They didn't, however, hide his pale features, or the fact that he hadn't taken a pain pill since breakfast that morning.

 

     I opened the door and started to climb out of the truck. 

 

"I think I'd better take you home.  Let me just go find Carlos.  I'm sure one of his sons can fill in as a pallbearer for me at the grave site."

 

     For the first time since he'd entered the church A.J. spoke.  "No,"  he negated hoarsely.  "I'm fine.  Let's go."

 

     The hearse was up ahead of us about six car lengths and just taking the turn from the parking lot onto the street. 

 

     "Are you sure?"  I asked.

 

     "Yes.  I want...I owe it to Erika to be there," he said so softly that I could hardly hear him.  "Let's go."

 

     I wanted to tell him that he didn't owe anyone anything, but I didn't.  I couldn't diminish his feelings for the young girl whose life had ended so brutally.  And, I understood where he was comin' from.  I owed it to Erika to be there, too.

 

     Erika was buried next to her mother just three miles from the church in an old Catholic cemetery filled with shade trees and headstones, some dating back over one hundred years. 

 

     A.J. got out of the truck without my assistance and kinda hung back from the crowd while I went forward to help carry Erika to her final resting place.  Twelve rows of metal folding chairs had been set up in front of the grave.  The seats were soon filled with family members and elderly guests.  I tried to get A.J. sit down, but he wouldn't.  He stood at the very fringe of the crowd, so I stood there with him.  We were so far back that you couldn't see what was happening, and could only pick up about every third word the priest was saying since there was no sound system to amplify the man's voice.

 

     None of that really mattered, as within ten minutes the whole thing was over.  I had been invited back to Adriano’s house for a meal with the rest of the family and friends, but decided not to mention it to A.J.  For a lot of reasons I didn't think he was up to attending it.  Not just physically, but emotionally as well. 

 

     I don't think A.J. had any intention of speaking to Adriano that day.  At least he never expressed a desire to do so to me, and I didn't bring it up. I felt his presence said enough, and that he didn't need to pressure himself to deal with anymore than he already was.  We weren't able to make it to my truck, however, without Adriano approaching him. 

 

     The man moved to hug my brother, but A.J. took a little step sideways, effectively alluding Adriano's grasp.  Adriano accepted this, I think understanding that A.J. just wasn't up to being told "Thank you," or "I know you did the best you could," or the fifty other things he probably wanted to say to my younger brother.   Instead Adriano simply extended his hand.  A.J. hesitated a moment before reaching out and making contact.  Adriano grasped the offered hand firmly and squeezed gently in deference of the bandaged palm.  They stood that way for what seemed like five minutes.  Adriano finally dropped A.J.'s hand, turned and walked quietly away.

 

     A.J.'s sunglass-covered-eyes watched Adriano's retreat. 

 

"It would be a lot easier if he hated me." 

 

     In a tone that was almost scolding in nature I countered, "Well, he doesn't."

 

     "I know," he acknowledged softly.  "But it would be easier."

 

     He didn't say anything else to me for the rest of the afternoon.  The ride home in my truck was a silent one.   A.J. sat with his head resting back against the seat.  I don't know whether he fell asleep or not.  I couldn't tell 'cause he still had his sunglasses on. 

 

     We walked into his house together.  Mom must have heard the truck doors slam because she was waiting for us in the kitchen when we entered. 

 

     It's funny how something as simple as body language can take you back about thirty years.  Mom was standing there with her hands on her hips, mouth set in a grim line, just like she had been standing in her own kitchen when A.J. was ten and had wandered off on his bike without telling her where he was going.  I had spent half the afternoon looking for him, and finally found him five miles from home.  About four miles farther than our mother allowed him to travel by himself.

 

     I didn't think this time a firm scolding and being grounded for two days was gonna have much effect on him, but I didn't put it past Mom to give it a shot.  I think she just might have, if it hadn't been for the fact that she immediately took in the paleness of his features, the careful way he was hugging his ribs with one arm, and the redness about his eyes that was easily detectable once he removed his sunglasses.

 

     He didn't say anything to Mom as he brushed past her and walked slowly up the steps to his room. 

 

     "A.J.?"  Mom called after him.  "Honey?"

 

     We heard the door shut from up above.

 

     Mom turned to me, the worry clearly evident in her eyes.  "Rick?"

     "Just leave him be for a little while, Mom.  He needs some time.  He just needs some...time."

 

     I made myself a sandwich since I hadn't eaten lunch yet.  Mom joined me at the table, bringing with her a beer for me, and a glass of lemonade for herself.  I filled her in on what had happened from the moment A.J. arrived at the church, until the graveside service was over.

 

     All she said was, "I guess it was a mistake for us not to talk about the funeral in front of him.  I should have realized he'd want to be there.  I would have driven him there if I would have known he was planning to do this.  Why didn't he just ask me?"

 

     "Because he probably figured you'd try to talk him out of it."

 

     Mom had to smile with chagrin.  "I would have."

 

     "He's just not up to any hassles right now, Mom, from either one of us.  I think his actions today make that pretty clear."

 

     Mom looked at me with puzzlement.

 

     I smiled with chagrin as well.  "He didn't ask me to take him either."

 

     "So what you're saying is, he wasn't up to a hassle from big brother, anymore than he was up to a hassle from his old mother?"  Mom teased lightly.

 

     I rose and kissed her cheek.  "That's right.  And you're not old." 

 

     I walked my dirty dishes over to the dishwasher and stacked them inside.  "I'll go up and check on A.J.  See if he needs anything."

 

     Mom nodded her agreement.

 

     I rapped lightly on the closed bedroom door.  When I didn't get an answer I called softly, "A.J.?  A.J., can I come in?"

 

     When I still didn't get an answer, I employed what I consider to be an older brother's prerogative.  I opened the door and entered the room without being invited.

 

     I found A.J. fast asleep, so I guess whether or not I entered without an invitation was a moot point.  He was so tired that all he had managed to remove was his suit coat, tie, and white dress shirt.   He was still in his black pants and shoes.

 

     I knew what it was like to be exhausted to a point that you got about half undressed, then laid on the bed thinking that in just a minute you'd have enough strength to stand up and finish the job.  The few times I've been there I generally greet the new day with my hat still on.

 

     A.J. didn't wake up as I slipped his shoes and socks off him.  Since he was lyin’ on top of the bedspread I didn't have anything to cover him with, so walked out to the hall closet and retrieved a blanket.  I spread it over him, shut the blinds, then walked outta the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

 

     Mom left shortly after that, saying she'd call later in the evening to see how he was doing. 

 

     A.J. slept until seven-thirty that night.  I knew he was awake when I heard him moving around in the master bathroom.  He came downstairs a few minutes after that dressed in his pajama bottoms and robe, which gave me a good indication that he didn't plan on stayin' up too long.  He got a glass of juice, which was all I think he was intending on eating until I bullied him into lettin' me make us some scrambled eggs.  He only ate a few bites of dinner, but I left him alone about it.  I knew he'd had a hard day and wasn't up to any grief from me.  He didn't say anything about the funeral, and neither did I.  Mom called just as we were finishing our meal.  A.J. talked to her while I cleaned up the kitchen.  I could tell by his side of the conversation that Mom didn't bring up the funeral either, nor his little disappearing act from earlier that afternoon. 

 

     A.J. stayed downstairs about another half hour.  While I sat and watched a sitcom, he reclined on the couch and read the paper.  Just after he'd gone back up to bed for the night the phone rang.

 

     I took the stairs two at a time and found him still awake.

 

     "Janet's on the phone." 

 

     "Oh.  Okay.  Thanks."  He reached over to the nightstand, clicked on the lamp, and picked up the receiver.

 

     I went back downstairs, hung up the kitchen phone, shut off the TV, and took Rex for a walk.  Went I got back half an hour later, A.J. was still on the phone with Janet.  The sound of his laughter drifted down to me in the kitchen where I sat eating a bowl of ice cream.   I was glad Janet had called.  She'd been able to do for A.J. what Mom and I hadn't.  She’s been able to make him laugh again, and it was damn good sound to hear.

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

 

     Things sailed along pretty smoothly the rest of that week.  Maybe without realizing it both A.J. and I had to get past Erika's funeral before we could begin to put to rest what had happened.

 

     A.J.'s appetite picked up little by little as the week wore on.  He also rested like he had been ordered, sleeping for several hours each afternoon and going to bed early each evening.  He seemed to gain more of his strength back with each passing day.  By Thursday, though he was still dealing with a lot of aches and pains, he didn't need Mom at the house with him when I went to the office for a few hours.  He was even asking me to bring work home for him to do, which both Mom and I thought was a good sign. 

 

     The main thing that still worried me was the nightmares that plagued his sleep.  A.J. didn't have any more episodes where he woke up screaming, but there were a few times when I'd gotten up in the middle of the night to check on him, and found him covered with sweat, mumbling in his sleep.  I never woke him up at those times, but just stood watch over him until he seemed to settle back down.  He didn't mention the dreams during the following days and frankly, neither did I.  I didn't know whether to bring them up or not, to tell ya' the truth.  Now I realize I should have.  I came to find out later the nightmares haunted him on and off for over a year.  

 

     Janet stayed close to us that week.  She talked to A.J. on Wednesday morning, telling him she'd bring dinner over that evening.  She arrived at six-thirty bearing a big pan of homemade lasagna, a loaf of French bread, and warm cherry cobbler.   A.J. had put a bottle of wine in the refrigerator to go with our meal even though, because of the medication, he couldn't have any. 

 

     The three of us had a great evening together.  A.J. had slept most of that afternoon, so was feeling pretty good at dinner time.  He was even completely dressed in blue jeans and a sweater for the first time that week, other than when he had attended Erika's funeral. 

 

     We spent much of night reminiscing about the years all three of us had lived in Florida.  Then we moved on to swapping stories about the early years when our office was across the street from the Peerless Detective Agency, where Janet worked as a secretary for her father while attending law school.   

 

     Just like everyone else who takes a trip down memory lane, our reminiscing eyes only saw those years through rose-colored glasses.  Never did anyone mention the fights A.J. and Janet had over his chosen career...or me.   Nor the fights Janet and I had over A.J.  I thought she wanted to change him, she thought I was interfering in their relationship.  I suppose, to some degree, we were both right.

 

     But that Wednesday night we only remembered the good times.  The fishing trips, the picnics, the Sunday afternoon ocean swims, and the way Janet used to steal cases from her father and pass them on to us. 

 

     We never managed to move from the table into the living room.  We just sat there long after the plates were empty and pushed aside, talking and laughing.  I didn't even realize how much time had passed until it was ten o'clock and A.J. was bowing out to go up to bed. 

 

     He kissed Janet's cheek and thanked her for bringing dinner.  He told both of us good night, then he and Rex shuffled off up the stairs.

 

     Janet stayed another two hours.  She helped me clean the kitchen and start the dishwasher.  We sat back down at the table and I refilled our wine glasses.  She and I continued to talk and laugh quietly about old times.  At midnight I walked her out to her car.  She asked me to tell A.J. she'd call him the next day.  I promised her I would before turning to go into the house.  I shut off the lights and navigated my way upstairs in the dark.  Much like I had been glad Janet had called the previous evening, I was glad she had come over that night.  I thought her visit had done A.J. an immeasurable amount of good.  I thought a close friend to talk over old times with was just what he needed right now.

 

     Janet called A.J. on Thursday night just like she had promised she would.  They talked for an hour and a half.

 

      The phone rang early on Friday morning, but this time it wasn't Janet, it was Abby.  The Gang Unit had rounded up several of the Conquistadores¢