Chapter 7

Reviving Charlie wasn't going to happen for a while. The problem was, they didn't really have a while. Don contemplated his brother for a moment, then grabbed his cell phone and left the room. He walked toward the living room while he flipped the cell open and speed-dialed his father.

"Hello?" Great. Obviously, from the chipper sound of it, he was up already.

"Dad."

"Donnie! Good morning, son!"

Don sat down on he couch. He needed to sit down. "Dad…why are you up already?"

Alan chuckled. "I could ask you the same thing. I wanted to make Charlie a special wedding-morning breakfast. Why don't you come over and join us? You're obviously awake already." His voice grew concerned. "Or are you working?"

Don took a breath. "Dad…Charlie's with me."

"What?" Alan sounded confused. "I know you two left the dinner together, and I didn't hear him come home…did you talk him into an impromptu bachelor party after all?"

"No, we just had to, um, talk about something. He let me have a few drinks, but he had water and then drove me home."

Alan laughed again. "That's your brother. Water and talk at his own bachelor non-party."

"Yeah, well…I'm not sure the guy passed out in my bed is my brother."

Don heard the sound of a chair scrapping across the floor, and soon Alan's voice. "Okay. I'm sitting down now. What did you just say?"

"I think you heard me, Dad."

Confusion again. "I thought you said he had water?"

"He did. He left my place by midnight — called a cab to go to Amita's. The next thing I know, it's 5 a.m. and he's back at my front door, drunk."

"He had a bachelor party with the bride?"

"I don't think it was a party."

After a moment of silence, Alan spoke cautiously. "What do you mean?"

"He's out like a light, Dad, and I couldn't get much out of him before he passed out…unless you count last night's buffet…"

"And?"

"And I think the last thing he said…he said, well, he said Amita's gone. He said there's no wedding."

"Mishigas!"

Great. Super. His father was resorting to Yiddish curses.

Alan slipped back into English. "Do you think he was serious?"

"It's Charlie, Dad. He's drunk. That alone sounds pretty serious to me."

More silence. Then, "I'm coming over there."

"Believe it or not, Dad, I think you'd better."

That, more than anything else he had heard, frightened Alan. "I'm coming now."

"Maybe you should drive by Amita's on the way. See if her car is there."

"Good idea. You call Larry. Maybe he knows something."

Don tried not to sigh. "Okay, Dad. See you soon."

Disonnecting from his father, Don immediately hit Larry's speed dial.

He must have checked the ID before he answered. "Don?" his voice squeaked a little. This one he had woken up. "My goodness. How are you?"

Don game him the Reader's Digest condensed version, ending with, "Did you see or hear from him last night?"

"Oh, my. No, no, I…just a moment, Don…" Soon Larry's voice came back. "May I phone you back? I have a voice mail, left at 3:00 a.m."

Don's heart dropped. "Who from?"

"I really can't tell, Don, until I listen to it. I'm afraid I settled for a rather base model of cellular telephone."

"Okay, okay. I'll wait to hear from you."

Don disconnected again, got up, and walked back to his bedroom. He stood in the doorway and looked at Charlie. The sight of him sleeping, pale, with a thin sheen of sweat on his face, which even in his sleep was drawn with pain…it was too familiar. Unbidden, memories crowded his mind. The hours he had spent with Charlie when he was being treated for leukemia. The days he couldn't be with him, when he was in isolation, and Don had to watch his suffering through a window. The feelings of unadulterated helplessness, and lonliness. The breaking of a heart already weakened by earlier losses…

But familiar, too, was the determination he felt rising in him. The absolute, all-consuming need to protect his brother. He headed back to the kitchen, started a pot of coffee. Then he flipped open the cell again, and made a few more calls.

A/N: "Mishigas" "Craziness!"