Chapter 21: Что у трезвого на уме, то у пьяного на языке

October 26, 1991, Chicago, Illinois

“We have to do something!” Kara said quietly. “And right now!”

“I agree. The problem is, there is only one person who can help, and calling him is extremely risky.”

“More risky than THAT?” Kara said, nodding in Jessica’s direction.

Jessica was sitting in one of the basket chairs, with Ashley in one arm, and one of our large wine goblets, full nearly to the brim, in the other. On the floor next to her was a mostly empty bottle. Kara had found her there after dinner, and had come to find me.

“No,” I sighed. “I guess not.”

Kara and I went to my study and I dialed Al Barton’s house. Belinda answered and after we exchanged pleasantries, she put Al on the phone.

“Damn it!” he swore when I told him. “What brought this on?”

“Relationship stress, I guess is the best way to put it. I had hoped that her trip home would have helped relax her, but it appears she started drinking again when she was in Texas.”

“Sending her to Texas might not have been the best idea. Well, she’s not due back to work for another week. We have some time. I’ll be at your house in ten minutes.”

“There’s room to park in the driveway if you want to drive over because of the rain. Jennifer and Josie are visiting friends tonight.”

“Thanks. Then I’ll see you in less than ten minutes.”

True to his word, Al arrived at the back door about seven minutes later. I greeted him, and let him in from the light rain that was falling. I took his coat and hat so that I could hang them up.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“In the ‘Indian’ room. She has Ashley with her. I was thinking that you and Kara should go in, and Kara could take the baby.”

“Probably best. She’ll know you called me.”

“I know,” I sighed.

“What brought this on?”

“Possibly something at home, but most likely revelations from my past. It’s complicated; a lot of stuff I got counseling for as a teenager, and some of the stuff I’m getting counseling for now. Add in the stress from the new baby, and everything else, and I think you can see why she might have decided to start drinking again.”

“Is it possible she was drinking before? Secretly?”

“Anything is possible, but I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it started at home again. Her relationship with her parents has been strained.”

“Yes it has. So why did she go?”

“We strongly encouraged her to get away from here. No, actually, we insisted. She seemed reluctant, but we pressed the issue and she acquiesced. Troy and Angela haven’t been to visit in some time. And this would also let them see their grandkids.”

“OK,” he nodded grimly. “Let me go talk to her.”

Al and Kara went into the ‘Indian’ room and I was happy to see Kara come out with Ashley. We went to the sunroom and the three of us cuddled together on one of the lounge chairs.

“Mama?” Albert asked, coming in a few seconds later.

“Talking to her friend, Doctor Barton,” I said, picking him up. “Where are your brothers?”

“With Aunt Elyse! Taking a bath!”

“And your sisters?”

“With Abbie! Having a snack!”

“Did you have a snack?” I asked.

“Yes! Grapes!”

It was a bit of an odd situation. Here I was with Jessica’s two kids and Kara. The three of us didn’t make that distinction under normal circumstances, but right at that moment, I wondered what was going to happen to our extended family. Hell, I wondered what was going to happen to the entire family, and our circle of friends. And to my business. At the moment, it felt like I was at the center of a storm, but instead of being calm, like the eye of a hurricane, it was the inner vortex of a tornado.

The biggest issue I was confronting was the situation with Jessica. Everything else, including all the stuff going on at NIKA, had to take a backseat to resolving the problems in our trio. I was deathly afraid that would not be possible, and I honestly had no idea what the future would hold if Jess were to actually leave us. Not as she had three years ago, when she had acted on pure emotion; that I felt we could deal with. No, what I feared was her leaving based on cold, calculated reason.

She’d had enough reason to leave even before she began reading the journals. I’d given them to her in the fervent hope that with everything out on the table, and nothing hidden, we could work through it. It was a dangerous play, one that I’d called a ‘Hail Mary’, but I saw no other solutions. There were things I simply could not do, including changing my relationship with Kara, or somehow reducing my involvement in the lives of my other children and their mothers. Those were simply non-starters.

I could, if need be, restrict myself to just Jessica and Kara. Elyse and Abbie would understand, even if they wouldn’t be happy about that turn of events. The thing was, except for the ‘Carla Incident’, which had actually occurred before Jessica and I even met, my dalliances hadn’t really caused any problems with Jessica. Yes, there was the ‘Thanksgiving Incident’ with Hope, Kimmy, and Jacquelyn, but that had been dealt with on our drive back from Maine. The thing with Becky, not the original ‘Incident’, but the final sex marathon, had been a dagger pointed at Kara, not at Jessica.

The second layer of the storm involved the ‘forbidden fruit’, as I’d come to think of it over the past few days. Of those, perhaps the easiest to deal with was Bethany. Easiest because I could control my emotions and actions with her fairly easily. The actual issue there lay with the girl at the other end of the spectrum: Jennifer. The more I thought about our conversation, and the more I focused on the key points - the kiss, and the question - the more convinced I became that Stephanie was right.

Stephanie. The ‘Forbidden Fruit’ that was OFF the spectrum. Her request, made through the open window of my car, had stunned me. She hadn’t waited for a reply, which hadn’t really mattered because I was in shock and couldn’t reply. I simply sat there and stared out the open window as she’d walked up the steps and let herself into the building, without so much as a backward glance. Even today, three days later, I still didn’t know what to say to her.

I knew it could never happen. Even in a ‘role play’ as Abel, I could never, ever be with my sister again, for a host of reasons. What had truly stunned me, once I got over that initial shock, had been that even after everything that had occurred over the past ten years, and what amounted to a confession to Doctor Mercer, she STILL wanted to be with me. And I also understood the depth of that request. It wasn’t just a single fuck. No, it was a request to be her man, in every way. And that could never, ever happen.

My sister was, without question, in need of serious counseling. I hoped that Doctor Mercer would accept her as a patient, even at this distance. If not, then I had but one recourse. I would go to Doctor Fremd and confess what had happened so that he could help my sister, consequences to me be damned. It might well ruin everything else in my life, but unless my sister got professional help for the problem, it would eventually come out. There was at least a chance that Doctor Fremd would agree not to report it, though it was unlikely. If it came out any other way, there would be no containment, and it would certainly cost me everything.

There was other ‘Forbidden Fruit’, but with one exception, I wasn’t worried about any of those girls. Kathy, first and foremost, but also Melanie, Kimmy, and Jeri, were all in committed relationships and I saw nothing that indicated any cracks in those foundations. Cindi, on the other hand, might well become an issue. But there I had a backup rule in place - she worked for NIKA. I’d violated that rule, but SHE didn’t know that, and I was sure I could make it stick no matter how much pressure she applied.

The outer layers of the storm - the BLS lawsuit, the issues with the FBI, the IRS audit, the long-term problem of my various ‘Outfit’ relationships, as well as my mood swings, all paled in comparison to the main elements of the maelstrom. There was also the issue at Jesse’s school, though I felt that one had blown over. The first two were being handled by top-notch legal teams. Expensive ones, but in the end, the money was far less important than resolving the issues. The IRS audit had, so far, turned up nothing, much to Jamie and Bruce Grady’s surprise.

The ‘Outfit’ issues were on the back burner for the moment. They’d stay there until either the FBI linked me to them in some way, or the pressure relaxed and Theo contacted me again. I had my personal safety net in the records I’d kept, and the data I’d collected. It was in the safest place I could imagine. After a brief stay with Ed Krajick, the package had ended up in the hands of my friend, the former Colonel of the Committee for State Security. She had no idea what the package contained, and had made it clear she did not care. She had simply promised to keep it safe, and keep its very existence secret.

With my mental health issues, I could only hope that Doctor Mercer would agree to see me. Not just because I needed the help, but my sister’s request on Wednesday night created an even more pressing need to put the whole thing to rest, once and for all. My mood swings seemed to be under control; diet, exercise, and sleep were working. Even with all of the crazy events swirling around me, I’d stayed on a relatively even keel. Kara had commented on that earlier in the day while we were waiting at O’Hare for the flight that brought Jessica back to us.

Or had it? That was really the question. She was PHYSICALLY here, but that extra-large glass of wine screamed that she had checked-out emotionally or mentally; probably both. I wondered if that glass of wine was her way of saying ‘fuck you’ to me, without having to say it out loud. At this point, I couldn’t imagine her throwing away her medical career as had almost happened three years ago. That said, as Bethany had observed, Jessica was an alcoholic. And that meant all bets were off.

“Steve?” I heard Al Barton say from the door to the sunroom.

“Yes?”

“Let’s chat for a bit, please.”

I put Albert down and disengaged from my cuddling with Kara. I kissed her, and got up to follow Al to my study. As I did so, my other two daughters came into the sunroom with Abbie. Abbie raised an eyebrow in question, but I shook my head to tell her I couldn’t talk at the moment.

“Daddy!” Birgit exclaimed. “Kiss!”

I stopped, picked her up and kissed her, then did the same with Stephie, before continuing out of the sunroom. I joined Al in the study and shut the door.

“She claims that’s the first drink she’s had since Maine,” he said. “I don’t believe her.”

“It’s possible,” I said. “But I honestly think she started drinking when she was home.”

“I asked. She said that wasn’t the case. I want you to think VERY carefully. Have you smelled alcohol on her breath at any time?”

“No. I haven’t seen her take a drink since she came home from Maine. And I’ve never, ever smelled alcohol on her breath.”

“What about mouthwash?”

“Sure, of course. Every morning, or before we go out.”

“Never at unusual times? The middle of the day? Early evening at home? Middle of the night?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, either to cover up the alcohol smell, or, more likely, because many over-the-counter mouthwashes contain alcohol.”

“Seriously? People drink mouthwash?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of Russian soldiers drinking alcohol-based brake fluid.”

“I always thought those stories were apocryphal,” I said.

“They may well be, but drinking mouthwash to get alcohol isn’t.”

“I’ve never known Jessica to smell like mouthwash at odd times. Ever!”

“Then it’s possible she’s telling the truth about this being her first drink, or if not, then some kind of verbal gymnastics to deny she started drinking at home.”

“So what do we do?” I asked.

“We can’t do anything. She has to do it. Drinking when she’s not on call isn’t a violation of the agreement she made when she was reinstated, nor is it against hospital policy. I think it’s against good sense, and she ought to never drink at all, but you know I’m a radical on that one, and an outlier in the medical community.”

“Jessica is an alcoholic,” I sighed. “Nobody I know in the mental health community thinks an alcoholic can have even a single casual drink now and again. Jess used to do that, then quit completely after Maine. Now she’s started again. That can’t be good.”

“I agree. Do you think she’d start going to meetings?”

“Meetings?” I asked.

“There are days when I wonder how you manage to get out of bed in the mornings!” Al laughed. “For a smart, educated man, you are clueless about quite a few things. A meeting. Alcoholics Anonymous. Twelve-Step programs. I’m sure you’ve heard of those!”

“Sorry, I just didn’t get the ‘meetings’ reference. Anyway, I have no idea if she’d go or not. But isn’t the important thing to remove the trigger? The thing that makes her want to drink?”

“You of all people should know that you can’t remove all the triggers for stress. Look at what’s going on in your life!”

“A reasonable point,” I chuckled. “No, I guess you couldn’t remove them all. But some? Sure.”

“And how do you propose to remove the current trigger?” he asked.

“She told you?”

“No, but it’s clear that it has something to do with you and your past. You basically said so yourself. Or, it could be something from her past. And here’s the rub, even if she thinks she could remove the trigger, you two still have kids together. I know you well enough that you would never stand for any resolution that prevented you from seeing Albert and Ashley.”

“Is that where this is headed?” I asked.

“I think that’s up to Jessica. Either she can deal with whatever is going on or she can’t.”

“The thing is, I don’t think it’s anything big. I believe it’s a series of small things that add up to me being someone she reviles at the moment.”

No, the truly big thing had been revealed back when I’d brought her home from the clinic in Maine. And I’d been sure that when we got past THAT, we could get past anything. I wasn’t so sure of myself at this point.

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Al said.

“You shouldn’t. The man you met six years ago was very different from the High School kid. And the man sitting here before you is very different from the one you first met. I don’t like a lot of things about my past. That said, I suspect, based on some of our conversations, you aren’t happy with your own behavior in High School, college, and medical school. What did you tell me? You only became a man who could respect himself halfway through your Residency? Well, age-wise, that’s where I am.”