Chapter 1
August 27, 2005
Kevin knew he was drunk. He didn't care. He knew that Tim and Jerry were talking about him. He didn't care about that either. As long as they left him alone, they could talk all they liked.
The doorbell rang. Jerry went to the door. "Hi, Bri. Harry. Come on in."
"Where is he?" Brian asked quietly.
"In the den-crawling into the scotch bottle," Jerry replied.
Brian sighed as they moved down the hallway to join Tim outside the den. "Have you tried to talk to him?" There were nods from Tim and Jerry. "This is five nights in a row," Brian said softly. "He's going to poison himself."
"We cleaned out the liquor cabinet this morning while he was sleeping," Tim said quietly. "He woke up and went looking for it. When he came up empty, he just went out and bought more. Didn't even yell at us for getting rid of it."
"Well, he can't keep this up indefinitely. He's got obligations," Brian said firmly. "I know he's hurting, but there are people depending on him. He has work to do."
"Never mind the work, Brian," Jerry said. "He has family depending on him."
Harry's eyebrows went up. "You mean he hasn't talked to them…?"
Tim shook his head sadly. "He won't go near them. Tracy took them back to our house two nights ago, and he never even asked where they were going. It's worse than two years ago."
Four heads turned and four pairs of eyes focused on the figure slumped on the sofa in the den.
"What the hell are we going to do?" Brian whispered. "He has to snap out of this. The guys need him-we've got concert dates coming up. But his kids need him even more than we do. He's running out of time on both counts. In another week he has to be back on the road. We can't put this off any longer."
"Short of straight jacketing him and locking him in his room, I don't know what we can do, Bri," Jerry muttered. "Maybe Uncle Harold could get through to him."
"We can try," Harry said. "I'll give Dad a call right now."
Kevin heard them walk away. He relaxed slightly, knowing that he didn't have to deal with Brian right now. But as his body relaxed, the tears welled up again. He alcohol-fogged brain sent a confused message to his body, telling the muscles to maintain control. He looked down at the coffee table with tear-distorted vision, and reached out to run his fingers over the cover of the scrapbook. All that was left. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt, and gently opened the book.
She had worked so hard on this. She had wanted him to have a record. So that he wouldn't miss out on anything. He shook his head and took another pull on the drink in his hand. What she hadn't understood was that he wanted to miss out on it. He didn't want to know what they were doing or how they were doing. It hurt too much to think about them and still more to look over milestones in their lives.
He turned the pages. Damn. She had been so meticulous, so lovingly accurate. The last five years of his life. So much hope at the beginning. So much despair at the end. How could she have endured putting this together? Suddenly he wanted to ask her-How the hell did you find the courage to sit here and calmly arrange these pages that spelled out the death of everything that I loved? "How did you do that, Mom?" he whispered. But he couldn't ask her. She wasn't here. She wouldn't ever be here again.
Hot tears sprang up and spilled over. And the anger began to build. His hands began to shake and the suffocating feeling was welling up in his chest again. When it finally burst forth from him, it was howl of pain and protest-"WHY?!?!?" He flung the glass and it shattered when it hit the far wall. He slid off the sofa to his knees, knocking the coffee table over and sending the scrapbook skidding across the room.
Brian got to him first. He wrapped his arms around him and Kevin buried his face into his cousin's shoulder. The other three men stood ready to help, but knowing that there wasn't much they could do.
"Kevin, it's okay Cuz. Let it out." Brian was talking softly. "You gotta let go of it."
"Let us help you, Kev," Tim pleaded. "We're hurting too, but we can help, if you'll let us."
"Talk to us, Boo," Jerry said softly. "You can get through this if you talk about it. You have to try. You owe it to Jemma and Ari."
Brian felt Kevin stiffen in his arms. He shook his head. They'd just lost him again. Jerry meant well, but he just didn't understand that this was not the way to approach Kevin. Not that Brian could blame him. Jerry was a devoted father and it had just never sunk in that Kevin didn't-couldn't-see things the same way that he did.
Kevin looked up at the men standing around him. They were family-his brothers and his cousins. But not one of them understood what was happening in his head. They all wanted him to feel something that he had no intention of feeling-ever again. He pulled away from Brian and stood up unsteadily. "I'm tired," he slurred. "Goin' to bed." He walked toward the doorway, and then turned back. "And do me a favor-leave the booze alone. I'll just have to go out and get more if you dump it again. And I can't really afford to keep doin' that. Don't know if I have a steady income at the moment," he sneered. "And as far as the rest of it goes-just leave me the hell alone."
He walked out and staggered up the stairs to his room. No one moved until they heard his bedroom door close behind him.
"Jer," Brian said quietly. "You can't push him like that."
"Well, maybe if he'd start acting like a father, instead of a self-indulgent drunk, he'd be able to get his act together," Jerry snapped. "We're all in the same boat here. She was my mother too-and Tim's. And you and Harry have lost an aunt. Have we folded up and disowned the world-or our kids?"
"We haven't lost our wives too, Jer," Tim said gently. "It's not quite the same thing."
Two days later, Brian got a phone call.
"Rok? It's me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm heading back to Orlando this afternoon."
"When did you decide that?" Brian asked.
"This morning," Kevin said wearily. "I've got to get out of here, and with the tour starting next week, I need some sun. I look like shit."
"It's been hot and beautiful all week. Couldn't you get some sun right here?" Brian asked.
Silence.
Brian sighed as he realized that the key was 'I've got to get out of here,' not 'I need some sun.' "Okay Train," he said gently. "I can't get away just yet, but I'll see you down there at the end of the week." He paused and added quietly, "Take care, Cuz. Call me if you need anything."
"Thanks, Rok. I'll be fine." There was a pause. "I'll see you later."
Brian hung up slowly. He turned to Harry and shook his head. "He's on the run again."
"What about Jemma and Ari? He's not just leaving them with Tim and Tracy, is he?"
"I would guess that he is. He didn't mention them. I guess I'd better call Tim and find out."
Chapter 2
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