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My gaze shifts in that direction, and relief washes over me. There’s Steve, unshaven and so gaunt that he’s barely recognizable. But thankfully, he’s safe.
“And hey,” the bartender interrupts my focus.
I quickly turn from my cousin, who’s so out of it he hasn’t noticed me yet, to look at the bartender.
“Frank said to keep your money,” he says. “If you’re willing to do this much for your family, we’re happy to help for free.”
I nod appreciatively. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he replies before moving on to the next customer.
As I walk toward Steve, I catch murmurs from the onlookers. “Oh my God, that’s Randy Thorn from the show,” someone exclaims.
“What show?” another inquires.
But my focus remains fixed on my cousin. His shoulders are slumped, and he stares listlessly at his nearly full glass of piss-yellow liquid.
Finally, I sit across from Steve. Up close, he’s a mess. His skin is ashen, like that of a corpse, and he struggles to lift his heavy gaze to meet mine.
My heart pounds fiercely as our eyes finally lock.
“Randy?” Steve finally asks, his voice unsure, as if he can’t believe it’s really me.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I respond, my voice tight with emotion.
Steve’s shoulders begin to shake as he starts to whimper. “I didn’t have my phone because I… I…” His words dissolve into sobs.
“Here it is,” I say, placing his cell phone in front of him.
His sobbing pauses briefly as he stares at the phone, his face wet from tears and sweat because he’s overheated from wearing too many layers in this stifling bar. He grabs the phone. “How did you get it back?”
“I made a deal with the guy you sold it to.”
Visibly shaken and struggling for words, Steve shakes his head. “What have I done?”
As I rub my chin, Jeremy’s words echo in my mind. I realize one thing is clear: I can’t simply fix this for Steve. The thought of what needs to happen next weighs heavily on me. We can’t go back to how things used to be. Starting today, we have to shift into a new reality.
I straighten up, my forearms pressing down on the table as I lean in closer to ensure that I have Steve’s undivided attention. His eyes meet mine, and I hold his gaze firmly. “Where you are right now, Steve, is in the same place I was when you came and found me. It’s the gutter. That’s where you’ve landed, in the gutter.” I make sure my tone is stern and unwavering.
I’ve learned from my own struggles that any shift in reaction can signal a breakthrough. Previously, whenever I confronted Steve about his predicament, he would dodge the issue, his eyes darting around, avoiding the truth. But this time, he continues to hold my gaze, his eyes steady and seemingly open to hearing whatever I have to say.
“Let’s get you some help,” I continue, believing I’m successfully getting through to him.
I watch as Steve jerks suddenly, as if waking from a daze. “Help? I can’t be helped,” he mutters.
“You can be helped, Steve. Anyone can be helped,” I counter, keeping my tone certain despite the rush of doubt I’m experiencing. Just as fast as I thought I had him on the line and ready to bite, I’m afraid I’m starting to lose him.
He shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m nothing, Randy. I’m nobody. I tried, but I’m nothing.”
My heart clenches at his words, anger and sorrow mingling at the self-loathing he expresses. “You can’t say that, Steve,” I insist, leaning closer. “You just can’t say that because you are something; you are not nothing. You’re sitting here in front of me, alive and breathing. You have ten fingers, ten toes, a brain, a heart, blood pumping through your veins. That alone proves you’re a living being. So don’t ever say you’re nothing because that’s not true. You’re saying that because that’s how you feel, and feelings aren’t always reality. You’ve tried gambling to escape those memories that you carry in your mind and in your body. You’ve tried booze. But none of that will ever stop the lies you keep telling yourself.” My words have tumbled out rapidly, a torrent of hope and desperation, and now I have to catch my breath, hoping he really hears me this time. “Get help, Steve,” I continue. “It’s the only way you’ll see your true worth. I did it. That’s what I had to do. Look at me now.”
I jump, startled, as a gentle hand suddenly grasps my shoulder, the touch familiar. “Well said,” a familiar voice murmurs.
Steve lifts his heavy-lidded gaze, tracking Jeremy as he settles in to the empty chair beside him.
“I was in New York City when you called,” Jeremy explains, mentioning his flight from Teterboro.
I acknowledge how thankful I am that he came with a nod.
