Chapter 7: Day 2: 9:05 AM continued

I never take my cell phone to bed. Our electronic companions are the worst type of rabbit hole to fall into before going to sleep. A Facebook post that is so stupid, inane, or hateful you feel the need to respond. An email from a colleague that shits in your cornflakes. None of them help you fall asleep, and sleeping is not something at which I excel. I am the guy who gets up at two in the morning and instead of rolling over and falling back to sleep I try to solve the world’s and my own problems. I did not need any additional ways to keep me from getting my beauty rest. Which is why I am so annoyed on this early morning in late November of 2018. I have been awakened by a cell phone ringing incessantly in my study. When the phone switches the call to voicemail, whomever is calling hangs up and calls again. I debate whether to get out of bed to answer the phone to share with the caller profanities that would make a rapper blush or just put on my noise reduction ear buds and go back to sleep.

It could be some random person drunk dialing over and over again hoping to reach a person who is not here. It could be my mother. She has never called me this late. Even when my father had fallen in the middle of the night and rushed to the hospital she waited until morning to call. But she is alone now. Maybe she needs me. Reluctantly, I get out of bed and walk to my study where my phone is charging. I look at the screen. It is not my mother. The calls are coming from a number in the 424-area code I do not recognize. Whoever it is has left me five voice mails in the last hour. Out of curiosity and against my better judgement I listened to the first one.

It is Con. In a manic voice he said “Budrow! It is me, your buddy Con. I know I have been out of touch for a while, and I am really really sorry about that. But it was not my fault. I wanted to call you, but I could not. It is too complicated to explain. But I will tell you all about it when you call me back. It has been fucking wild. What time is it there? Shit. I do not have a watch, I don’t know. I cannot do that kind of math in my head so if it is really late, I am sorry. But call me back. We have lots to discuss. Love you bro.”

I am stunned. I have not talked to Con in over six weeks. For the last two years, since the beginning of Con’s and Del’s steel-octagon death match California style divorce I had called him every day. I had done so because that is what friends do. Besides, He had no family left except a brother who was not a big part of his life and a sister with whom he did not speak. His sons, through Con’s own willfulness, questionable decision making, and Del’s poisoning had little, if any, relationship with him any longer. His girlfriend Lilith more often than not contributed to his everyday sense of anxiety. Who else was the boy going to talk to?

Then one day I called, and he had not called me back. That was not completely abnormal. It happened from time to time, and I did not think twice about it. When I did not hear from him the next day I called again. The call went straight to voice mail. When he did not return my call the next day, I sent him an email and did not get a response to that either. I was hurt and furious. I was convinced at the time that the reason for his “radio silence” was his girlfriend Lilith.

Lil, as Con called her, and I did not get along. It was not open warfare. More like an uneasy détente. We tolerated each other’s presence in Con’s life and when during the few times we had met, we played nice with each other saying all the right things but with none of the correct feelings. Our animosity had its origins with Liam’s wedding. Con had requested he take Lil as his plus one. Liam, under Delilah’s influence, had said no as it would cause unwanted drama at the wedding. Lil took this very personally. She told Con that he should be a “man” and put his foot down. She attends or he does not.

Con and I of course discussed this at length during one of our calls. He asked what I thought and like an idiot I told him. This was his youngest’s son’s wedding to a woman Liam had been dating since they were both sixteen. He knew and loved his daughter-in-law to be as if she was his own child. He knew her parents, the Pembertons, and liked them. If he brought Lil, and Del promised drama, then drama would happen. This was a singular family moment. Missing it for any reason would be something he would regret for the rest of his life. It would create a rift not only between him, Liam and Hadley but would screw up his relationship with Duke. I said, “You know what the worst outcome of you not attending the wedding?”

“What?”

“Del would win. Every terrible thing she said about you would be confirmed. She would walk around all weekend long and say “No. Con did not make it. His new whore girlfriend is more important to him than his son.”

He nodded and said, “That sounds about right.”

I added “Besides Lil should want you to have a good relationship with your sons. She should do everything she can to make sure your relationship with them is strong. That is what love is all about. You want what is best for the other person’s well-being and happiness. And if she doesn’t…”

“What?”

“And if that is not what she wants for you, then what she feels for you is not love. Or at least it is not a healthy type of love.” 

“That is a pretty bold statement. Why do you say that? “

“Buddy, because I have lived it. Remember that woman Susan? The one my mother always refers to as the bitch?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, her whole M.O. was trying to separate me from my family. Trying to convince me that my family was not working for my best interests, while she always was. She wanted me to focus all of my attention on her not them. She was constantly creating situations where I had to pick her or my family. Either or. No middle ground. When I finally broke free of her it took me and my therapist some serious couch time to unwind all the ropes in which Susan had bound me. One of her insights was that this woman who supposedly loved me was suffering from borderline personality disorder where a person works to make sure she is always the only object of affection in their lives.”

“You are saying Lil has borderline personality disorder?”

I replied, “No. “and then to inject a little lightness in the conversation I added “I am not a psychiatrist, and I do not play one on television. What I am saying, Lil’s pitting you against your son reminds me of Susan’s behavior. Regardless, it is not a kind, loving or nice thing to do.”

Con was convinced. Then he did something stupid. Instead of confronting Lil directly with what we had discussed, how he felt about her ultimatum and what he wanted to do, he threw me under the bus. During their conversation he couched everything in terms of “This is what Danny thinks. Danny thinks I should go to the wedding. Danny thinks you are being unkind. Danny thinks you have a mental disorder.” Lil did not respond well to the conversation. In addition to describing me in less than complimentary terms she dug in her heels regarding the wedding. Con could go to the wedding but if he did, it was the end of them. My friend was caught between a rock and a hard place. He was infatuated with Lil. She is where he saw his future. His boys would have to understand now that they were grown and now his priorities were different. He needed to build a new life and he wanted Lil to be in it. They would have to understand.  

On the day before the wedding, just before Nadine and I were scheduled to leave for Liam and Hadley’s rehearsal dinner, and after endless conversations, countless alternative plans we finally figured out a way to make everyone happy. Con would take the redeye flight from LAX to Atlanta. Once there he would shower and change in our room, and we would all go to the happy couple’s early afternoon wedding together. He would make a brief toast at the reception and then run to the airport and catch a late afternoon flight back to LAX so he could have a late evening dinner with Lil. It would be as if he had never left. No harm, no foul for Lil. He fills his obligations and desire as a father. Everyone wins.

The rehearsal dinner was at Hadley’s parent’s home in Buckhead. The Pemberton’s had transformed their home into a wonderful venue for the party. There were bars and buffets located all over the house giving each demographic the chance to find its own room. As importantly there was a celebratory atmosphere. Everyone envisioned a happy future for this couple that had been together for so long. 

We were greeted at the door by Hadley’s parents. Her mother Grace was especially nice to us. She told me that over the years she had heard so many “Uncle Danny” she was glad to finally put a face with the name. Then, begging Nadine’s forgiveness, she pulled me aside.  When we were alone, she quizzed me about Con. Grace had written him a dozen or so personal emails begging him to come and promising him that despite the bitter divorce he would be treated with love and respect. He had never responded, and she was fearful that he was angry with her and would not attend the wedding. I told her not to worry. Con and I had talked just before we had left the hotel and he was making reservations for his flight to Atlanta. The look of relief on her face was frameable.

I was getting a plate of appetizers at the seafood buffet for Nadine when my phone vibrated indicating I had received a text. I ignored it. The langoustines were calling me. It was only after Nadine, and I had managed to clean our plates that I pulled out my phone and looked at the screen. The text was from Duke. Addressed to Con, Liam, Lilith and me. It read “I cannot believe that you are not here! Your son is getting married tomorrow. You had the opportunity to make peace and you fucked that up. You have chosen to spend time with your Mexican drug dealing whore. She is Sinaloa. Google it.  And, while you are online check out her Tinder profile. She is fucking around on you. But instead of being with your son you are with her A cheap drug dealing bitch. Fuck you. Fuck you. And fuck you again.”

I went looking for Duke. I needed to know what would make him write such a purposely offensive note. How could he possibly think what he said would make the situation better?

I found him on the patio holding court with a few friends of his from High School. They were laughing and enjoying themselves. The way people should be speaking at a rehearsal dinner. As I got closer, I noticed that in Duke’s right hand was a bottle of Corona. When my nephew saw me, he boomed “Uncle Danny!” and gave me a bear hug. Introducing me to his friends he said, “This is the Uncle Danny.” It seemed that they had heard of me and I spent a moment or two shaking hands before whispering to Duke “Hey, can we talk for a moment.”

When we were beyond earshot of the others I said, pointing to the Corona in his hand “What the fuck is this?”

“It is just a beer Uncle Danny.” And then with the arrogance of someone who knows he is doing something wrong added “I am at the point in recovery where it is all right for me to have a beer occasionally. I have it under control. “

I smiled at him and let his words hang in the air for a second or two. I wanted him to know with my silence I was not falling for it. I said, “Bullshit. And want to know why I know it’s bullshit? Because a person who is in control would not have written this” pointing to the text still visible on my phone.  

He protested “He deserved it Uncle Danny. He should be here. It’s his fucking son’s wedding.”

“You are goddamn right he should be here! And I have been working for weeks to get him here. Which you knew because I told you. Didn’t I? But you could not leave it up to me. You had to send him this disgusting and disrespectful text. You could have just sent it to him. At least then you could have discussed it even if that was at full volume. Instead, you decided to include Lilith. Why? l am serious. Why in god’s name did you do that? Did you think calling her a drug dealer and whore would endear her to you?”

“But she is all of those things Uncle Danny. I did a deep dive on Google and hacked into her on Tinder. She is definitely cartel owned. What bake shop owner makes the type of money she does? And she is seeing at least two other men from Tinder.”

I held up my hand. I didn’t need to hear anymore. Not because my anger burned less hot but because I knew that I was sparring with Duke’s demons not him.  I sighed and said “I know who she is. Maybe even better than you. I am not sure about the drug thing. Could be. But not the point. People’s sex life is their own damn business. You certainly should not be telling your father who he should have sex with. But as I have told your dad, what concerns me more, far more, is that she is trying to keep him from having a relationship with his kids and me. Whether that is something benign like insecurity or something more pathological it does not matter because whatever it is it ain’t love and it ain’t kindness. I have done what I could to open his eyes to the problem. But there is a difference between what I did and what you did.”

Duke said, “What is that?”

“I only pushed it only so far that the bridge smolders for a bit. I never burned it down. You did. It leaves him on the other side with no way home. It is a victory for Lil. She can now go to your old man and say “See, what did I tell you. Your children are disrespectful little shits. You are better off without them. And your friend Danny, he is there, and he didn’t stop it. What kind of friend is that!” Now we have a far deeper hole to dig ourselves out of and for extra bonus fun your father won’t be at Liam’s wedding. And you know who is going to enjoy that?”

Duke gave me a blank stare. “Your mother. The woman who has been doing her best to destroy your old man now wins in the eyes of all who are here. She will be able to crow “See I told you he was a shit. Would not even come to his son’s wedding.” Do you think that is going to make their divorce less acrimonious or more?”

My tall, handsome and troubled nephew stared at me. I had never spoken to him this way. It was not the fun Uncle Danny who took him out for steak dinners, bought him his first hot fudge sundae, or shared books with him. My tirade had started in anger. He had burned down a bridge that I had labored mightily to build. In that moment, I realized that in many ways talking to Duke was like talking to his father. Both shared a strong streak of self-righteousness. A firm belief they were always right even when they knew they were wrong. I also knew I was dealing with a non-recovering alcoholic and a bi-polar man whose meds, if he was taking them, were not working. The easy thing to do would have been to just walk away in disgust and anger. But this was my nephew. I had to do right by him. That is the obligation when you love someone. You had to be kind by being honest. Hopefully in a way he appreciated and understood. Even if that was not today, but at some point, in the future when the seeds of what I said today took root.

I said “Here is the point. You were an asshole. But you are also one of my favorite assholes. I love you. You fucked up but your heart was in the right place. There will be consequences. With Lilith there will always be consequences. We are just going to have to figure out a way to get your father back over the bridge you just nuked. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now give me a hug and let’s try to enjoy this party.”

We hugged like two bears. As we broke I realized he still had the bottle of Heineken in his hand. I had to say something. Looking him in the eyes I said, “One more parting shot from the uncle who loves you as a son.” Pointing to the beer I say “This dog don’t hunt. I know you. I know you think you can outthink this. You believe you can use your brain to solve every problem. In most cases, you are probably right. You are that smart. But I can tell you with 100% confidence you will not be able to outthink your alcoholism. It is biology not intellect. It is, I am sad to say, your fate.”

I can almost hear his eyes roll as I am saying this to him. He does not want to hear it. But it has to be said. I add, “Ever read a short story by Somerset Maugham “The Appointment in Samara?”

Duke shook his head. “Read it. You will like the writing and the story.  It is a parable about fate. You should take it to heart. Okay? Sermon over. Let’s go see if we can find your Aunt Nadine. She wants to give you a hug.”

There were consequences. Duke’s text not only convinced his father not to come to the wedding but at Lilith’s urging to cut off contact with his sons. Not that either of Con’s sons wanted anything to do with him at that point. Between Del’s narrative of an abusive, alcohol, drug addled out of control man worst husband in the western world and his not attending the wedding the destruction to his relationships with his sons was epic. Only time could repair it and even then, there was a strong possibility the wounds would never fully heal.

I was collateral damage.  Lil labeled me as a “bad influence” because when he and I spoke, I would often urge reconciliation between him and his children. Which my overly communicative friend shared with her.

Which is why when Con stopped returning my phone calls and did not respond to my emails, I thought the harridan had finally convinced him not to speak with me. It hurt like few things had in my life. I had been his friend if not brother for over forty years. We had epic adventures all over the world. When he was in trouble, or needed help I was always there.  I felt betrayed in the same way a person might when their spouse tells them they are going to the convenience store for a pack of cigarettes and never returns.  All erased due to Lilith.

The irony or the weird part of it was it was Lilith that I talked to just before things went quiet. I had been in Rio’s Admirals Club waiting for a flight home when my phone rang. It was Con. He was in his car driving to Lil’s. He was very amped up and sounded “off”. He was calling because he wanted to share with me that Eva Longoria had been filming a commercial outside his apartment in Manhattan Beach. He had stopped to watch the shoot and when Longoria came by to sign autographs one thing had led to another and they ended up having sex in her trailer. That was not the strangest thing about the phone call. While he was telling me this outlandish story, he would interrupt the tale with an “excuse me”, pull the car off to the side of the road and loudly vomit out the window. After this had happened three times I said, “What the hell is going on with you?”

He responded “I don’t know. I think I caught a bug or something. For the last few days, I have had really bad headaches, and I can’t seem to get anything down. Hold on.” As if to punctuate his point he pardoned himself and vomited again.

When he came back to the phone. I said “Buddy, instead of going to Lil’s don’t you think you should go to Emergency Care and see if they can figure out what is going on with you. At the very least they could give you something to stop you from puking. Because what is going on right now ain’t normal.”

He snapped back “I will call the Dr. when I get to Lilith’s.”

“Dude, that isn’t smart. Not only shouldn’t you be driving but if you have the flu or something contagious do you really want to share that with her and her children?” Look do what you want but you need to see the Dr. now and how you can drive when you are throwing up all the time.”

His response was gagging and vomiting again. Eventually, he said, “Let me call you back.”

He didn’t. Fifteen minutes passed. No call from Con. I texted him. No response. I called. He did not pick up. Concerned, and seeing no other option, I texted Lil. Had she heard from Con. She had not. I Facetimed her. I shared with her my conversation with Con with the exception of the Eva Longoria part. She told me that he had not been feeling well for days and “He has been so weird lately. Lots of headaches. He has a hair trigger temper. Anything could set him off. We ordered Thai food the other night and they didn’t include the Drunken Noodles we had ordered, and he was so angry he through a container of rice at the wall.”

I took a beat. I was confused by his behavior but also by her tone. It seemed to me that she was not taking my friend’s very disturbing behavior and symptoms as seriously as she should have. I said “That does not sound like our boy at all. Did you suggest he go to the Dr.” Perhaps I sounded patronizing because her response was both terse and petulant. “No. I am here. I know what is going on. If he needed to go to the Dr. we would have gone.”

“I get it. I do. But him driving along the road  being unable to stop vomiting, isn’t that a little concerning? Don’t you think?”

Lill rocked her head back and forth that I took to mean “Maybe yes, maybe no.” I continued. “I know how stubborn he can be. I know he won’t want to go. But perhaps if we work together, we can convince him he needs to see someone?”

Lil shook her head, clearly fed up with my interference, and replied “Dan, don’t you think you are overreacting. It’s probably just the flu combined with the divorce that has him all out of sorts.”

Responding, perhaps with more frustration in my voice than was wise I said. “Maybe I am overreacting. But if I am no harm, no foul. But if I am not then we start the path to figuring out what is going on with the boy.”

She said “Listen I have to go. But I will see what I can do. Ciao.” She hung up before I could say goodbye.

I called Con. No response. My flight was called, and I had to let it go but I expected to hear something when I landed. But there were no voice mails, emails, or text when I finally reached Newark 16 hours later.  Calls to Con and Lil went unanswered. Texts and emails went without reply. I got frustrated. If Con was sick, why didn’t Lil call me back? If Con was okay, why wasn’t he calling me back? Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned into a month. With each passing day, my hurt and anger increased geometrically. When I shared my anger, frustration and hurt with Nadine and my mother they both had the same advice. Step back. If he is not calling you back, then there is a reason. If that reason is Lil, then he has made a choice. If he were sick and could not call you, don’t you think someone would have called you?

I had barely lifted the phone to my ear, when I hear Con’s voice manically saying “I am so sorry. I really am. I know you have called me, and I would have called you back, but they wouldn’t let me call you. They took my phone away and I just got it back. Otherwise I would have called you. You know that. But I am really really sorry.”

“Wo wo wo dude. What do you mean they would not let you call me? Who took your phone? What is going on?”

“Lil took my phone away. She said she didn’t trust me with it. So she took it. And I finally convinced her to give it back to me. But I am really sorry I didn’t call you. You know that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You are my brother. It is just that I couldn’t call you.”

Not following the conversation at all. I say “Con! Slow down. You are confusing the fuck out of me. Why couldn’t you call?”

“Oh! I am sorry. They tell me that my brain is rewiring, and I think I say things that I haven’t. But not to worry. It’s getting better.”

Exasperated I say “Dude slowdown. Let’s do this another way. I will ask you a single question and you just answer that? Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Why is it that your brain is rewiring?”

“Oh. I didn’t say?  I am sorry. They took a part of my brain out.”

“What? Why?”

He replies just as naturally as he was giving me a weather report. “Because I had a brain tumor and they had to take it out.”