The brothers sat on adjacent bar stools in a bar near Frank's apartment. Bobby pulled out his phone as Frank ordered their drinks. He could hear the relief in Alex's voice when she answered. "Bobby. Where are you?"

"In Brooklyn. I, uhm, I stopped to see your dad and my mom."

Alex felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. "You shouldn't have gone there alone."

"It's something I needed to do, and I had to do it on my own. I had...apologies to make, and promises...and I had to...to say..." He stopped before the last word, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He continued, his voice soft and a little strangled. "I had to say...good-bye."

Her heart fluttered at the tone of his voice. "Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"I'm okay," he assured her, hoping that saying would make it so. "I, uh, I ran into Frank. We have some talking to do."

She was silent, not knowing what to think about Frank's sudden reappearance. Every time he turned up in Bobby's life, there was trouble. She wrestled with herself, not liking the fact that he was with Frank. She knew instinctively that Bobby was vulnerable at the moment, and that Frank was the last person he needed to be with, but there was nothing she could do."Are you going to be home tonight?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

He paused, not sure about her tone. He couldn't tell if she was upset or not, but he didn't want to lie to her. "I don't know."

She fought hard to keep from sounding upset. "Let me know, okay? And...be careful."

"Alex..." he whispered, closing his eyes. She was upset. He heard it in the way she held her tone; he knew the sound of her trying to hide it from him. "Do you...Do you want me to come home now?"

She did, but he needed to see his brother, and she understood that. She didn't like Frank, but he was all that Bobby had left. She was troubled by the vulnerability she sensed in him, knowing that Frank would exploit that. But what could she do, except trust her husband? "No. Talk to your brother. Just be careful, please."

"I will."

He slid the phone back into his pocket as the bartender placed a scotch in front of him. Frank smiled. "Happy birthday, Bobby."

Caught off-guard, Bobby frowned. "You remembered?"

"Yeah, I remembered. I also remember that you prefer scotch to gin." Frank raised his glass. "To the good times."

Bobby made the toast with him but his brow was still furrowed. He didn't like upsetting his wife. Maybe he'd just give Frank one drink, then he would go home. Frank grasped his shoulder and squeezed. "You and me, we had some good times, didn't we, Bobby?"

"Yeah, Frank. We had some really good times. I liked hanging out with you when we were kids. You were my big brother, and I looked up to you."

"You-You did?"

"Yeah, I did. A lot. But...things happened, and...we changed."

"When, and how, did we grow apart?"

Bobby looked into his half-full glass. "I don't know exactly. I guess, once I realized that drugs meant more to you than I did, that you were...lost to me. Looking back, I guess it's not a surprise, but it still hurt. A lot."

"What do you mean, it wasn't a surprise?"

Continuing to look down at his drink, Bobby answered, "Looking back at my life...well, it always happens. The people who mean the most to me always...leave. Somewhere along the way, I become incidental, an afterthought."

"You weren't...an afterthought, Bobby. It's just...It...Drugs...they got the better of me."

"Only because you let them."

"Okay, maybe I did, but you weren't a little kid any more. You could take care of yourself—and do a better job of it than I did. You didn't need me any more."

"Why did you think that?"

"Look at me. Look at the mess I made of my life. Look at what happened to Mom. You were the responsible one. You knew how to take care of things. I only knew how to take care of myself, and that took all of my time and energy. I didn't have anything left over for anyone else. Not Ma, not you, not anyone."

"But...you were the one she wanted, Frank. Every time she looked at me, she saw the absence of you. I took care of her, and she resented me for it. She spent the last twenty years of her life telling me that you would have taken better care of her, that I wasn't good enough because I wasn't you. That's...well, it's the story of my life. I'm just never quite good enough."

Frank studied him and he felt a strong surge of regret. He remembered, in the far distant past, the happy little guy his brother had been. Then, their mother had gotten sick, and everything had changed. He'd tried to shelter Bobby when he was little, but sometimes, there was nothing he could do. That happy little guy had grown up damaged, and he wondered how much of that damage was his fault. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I really am."

Bobby felt a surge of anger. "Sorry? Just what are you sorry for?"

Frank cringed a little at his brother's tone. "For hurting you. For not being there when you needed me. For letting you down, over and over again. For all of it."

Bobby finished his drink and, with it, swallowed his anger. He waved a hand and shook his head. "It's all in the past now. It's over and there's no way to change it. Forget it."

But Frank couldn't forget. He owned part of what Bobby had become through his failure to protect him when they were young and through his greater failure of becoming lost to his brother in the world of his addictions. If he pushed it, though, and tried to make Bobby admit something he didn't want to admit, their discussion would deteriorate, and Frank didn't want that.

Neither, apparently, did Bobby. He set down his empty glass, got to his feet and said, "I'd better go..."

Frank didn't want to end their visit on a negative note, and he closed his hand around his brother's arm. "Please, stay for another drink. Just one more."

Bobby looked at him but didn't sit down. Frank ordered him another drink and gave his arm a gentle tug. "Come on. Tell me about them."

Them...Bobby felt a surge of anxiety at the pronoun that conjured so many dark memories for him. "About who?" he asked cautiously.

"Them," Frank said with more enthusiasm. "Your family. That pretty little wife of yours...how long did she say you've been married? Two years?"

Slowly, Bobby lowered himself back onto the bar stool and took the drink the bartender set near his elbow. He nodded. "Three years, next month."

"And how old are the kids again?"

"Maggie is six, Harry turned six last week, Tommy is 2 and Molly is 8 months."

Frank looked confused. "Your wife said you had three kids. Was she pregnant when I met her?"

"No. We, uhm, we adopted Harry. It will be final next month."

"I would say he's a very lucky little guy."

"What makes you say that, Frank? You don't know me any more."

"Don't be so sure, Bobby. I might have been high, but I remember that little storm trooper of yours wiping me out with her little crutch because she thought her daddy was in trouble."

Bobby couldn't suppress a little smile of pride. "Maggie," he murmured softly, his voice tender as he said her name. "I have a special relationship with her. I always have. If nothing else in my life lasts, I hope that does."

"How did she break her leg?"

Bobby's smile faded. "Uhm, Maggie...Maggie was with me, when Mom died. I was in an accident that night, and that was how she broke her leg, in that car accident."

"Were you drinking?"

"What? No! Not with her along...and I don't...I don't drive when I'm wasted, Frank. I have more sense than that. And I don't...I don't...not when I'm responsible for my children."

"Okay, sorry..." Frank paused, then asked, "What will it take for me to meet your kids?"

Bobby hesitated, picturing Alex's face if Frank ever turned up on their doorstep again. What would it take? Finally, he answered, "My wife's approval."

"And how likely is it that I'll get that?"

Bobby shrugged. "That depends on you. So far, you haven't given her much reason to like you. As long as you're using, don't count on it. I won't let you around them if you're using."

"Suppose I'm stone cold sober when I meet them?"

Bobby was quiet for a long time, finishing off his drink and ordering a third. "They'll like you, Frank. I know they will. And when you break promises to them, and don't come around for months at a time, and let them down over and over again..." He shook his head. "I've been there. I had to deal with it when you did that to Mom. You are not going to do that to my children. I won't let you."

"If I promise..."

Bobby cut him off. "Promises don't mean anything to you. How often have you kept your word to me, Frank? I can count on one hand how often that happened." He shook his head. "I won't put my kids through that. You couldn't get clean for me or for Mom. I know you won't get clean, and stay clean, for nieces and nephews you've never met. It's my job to protect them, and I take that job very seriously. I will not let them be around a junkie, uncle or not. Alex's criteria will be even more strict. If your life remains unchanged, the closest you're going to get to my kids is looking at their pictures as you sit on a barroom stool."

Frank was unhappy about Bobby's decision, but part of him couldn't blame his brother for wanting to protect his family. After all, he was right. He had never proven himself dependable. Bobby, however, was rock solid, and Frank admired that about him. Bobby lived a life that could have been his, once. But his chance had passed and he'd let that life slip away forever. He motioned to the bartender again.

Alex was worried about her husband. When he went out drinking with Mike, she didn't mind. Sometimes they got themselves into trouble, but they always watched out for each other. The two men were close, and neither was inclined to let any harm befall the other. But Frank—she did not trust Frank, with good reason. Every time he turned up in his brother's life, trouble followed for Bobby. She tried not to think about what Frank was up to this time, but she couldn't help being concerned. Part of her wanted to call Mike and ask him to retrieve her wayward husband, but she decided against it. Mike had left with Sean to go to Denise's and she didn't want to interrupt what time he could spend with her. Worry kept her up late, easing toward an anger that she repeatedly chased away. Finally, she went to bed, convinced that Bobby would not be coming home that night. Sleep was a long time in coming, and when it finally claimed her, troubled dreams came with it.