Page 23 of Jesse

“When my dad died Johnny came down to my floor—”

“I’m sorry. Your floor?”

“Yeah. That building we live in? Downtown? Well, the top five floors are like… our house, I guess. My dad had the penthouse, Johnny has the floor below, then Joey, and I’m on the one below him. Then below me was the family floor.”

“Wait,” Emma says. “You didn’t all live together?”

“When I was a kid we did. On the family floor but never the penthouse. That was just my father’s offices. But after my uncle died we were all moved to separate floors. My dad said it was for security and then I just never went down to the family floor again.”

“What?”

“I know, it’s weird. But anyway, Johnny came down to my floor to break the news and I was…” I stop to picture that day. “I was so drunk, so high from the night before that…” I stop and sigh. “I laughed.”

“Why?” Emma asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Because I was high and drunk and I didn’t understand what he was telling me. And then he beat the fuck out of me.”

“Oh,” Emma says. “Like a real beating? Or a—”

“No, it was real. My face was so swollen the next day I barely recognized myself.”

“What a dick,” she says, taking my side.

And I have to admit, that feels nice. “I deserved it,” I say. “That was my rock bottom, I guess. Things had to change. Not only because our dad was gone and we had to figure shit out, but because if I didn’t, I was gonna lose everything. Not the money, either. There’s so much fucking money now, I don’t even know if it’s possible to lose it all. I was going to lose Zach.” I glanced at Emma and frown. “He came home that day and saw me, still all strung out. And he had this look on his face. Like I was the biggest disappointment ever.”

Emma nods. Says nothing.

“And Zach is pretty much the only person in the world I never wanted to disappoint. He looked up to me after his dad died and I took over raising him.” This is the first time I’ve said that out loud. Probably the first time I actually articulated that’s what I did. But I raised him. “He was the little brother I never had. But he was more than that. I felt like… responsible for him, somehow. And I didn’t like that look he gave me that day, so”—I shrug—“I took a step forward and started to learn how to live without the drugs and the drinking.”

Emma has turned her entire body towards me now. Practically leaning into my legs, she’s so intrigued by this conversation. “Wow.”

I nod. “Wow. But that’s only half the story. Because this was the second time I tried, but the first time I succeeded.”

She shoots me a questioning look.

“My uncle,” I remind her. “The day he died I was…” I think for a moment. “God, where was I? That sounds dumb but… I was pretty hungover that day too. Just having a good time and shit. All suntanned and golden fresh from months of yachting, and racing, and partying. I bribed my university to graduate me early. Told them I’d donate a building and they went for it, so”—I shrug—“that whole spring I was just celebrating, you know.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I know.”

And she says it in such a way that I get the feeling she really understands me.

“But Johnny showed up. Found me somehow. Told me Uncle Chuck was dead. Oh, hey,” I say, pointing at her. “I know where I was. The Keys! I was on Key fucking West.”

Then I stop to think about that for a second. But it’s all kinda blurry.

“Key West, huh?” she asks.

I snap out of my memories and say, “Yeah. But a few hours later I was back in the city. Doing my best to sober up fast enough to deal with Zach’s realization he was now an orphan.”

She stares at me for a few seconds, then whispers, “Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Kinda crazy.”

And under most circumstances, talking about this shit would send me spiraling into a bad mood. Maybe even a depression. Maybe even the old me.

But talking about it with her?

It’s different.