Page 117 of DadBod

“Wow.”

“I know. He was amazing, except he got hurt during a football game his senior year of high school. It was the kind of injury that was hard to come back from, a torn ACL. Not only that, but the surgeon screwed up and damaged more than he fixed. He nicked a nerve or something, which only added to Sam’s issues. He was in constant pain afterward. The surgeon prescribed him pain meds. Lots and lots of them.”

Rome is surprisingly quiet. I’m glad. This is hard to talk about on a good day.

“It got so bad; he was doing just about anything he could to get more pain medications. When his doctor wouldn’t prescribe any more, he started drinking. A lot. Not beer, like my dad prefers. No.” I shake my head. “He went for whiskey, the hard stuff.” I take a large drink of my wine, to settle my nerves some. “I don’t think it was just the pain and the meds that bothered Sam, though. It was because all his hopes and dreams were dashed in one second. Well, two if you count the clumsy doctor’s scalpel. Anyway, one night, Sam was out drinking with his buddies. They had a spot they liked to go out in the country near a small lake outside of town.

“My brother was drunk when he got behind the wheel. I guess he knew it, because he decided to take the back roads. About halfway home, something happened. Some think he fell asleep at the wheel while others suggested he was trying to avoid a deer. Either way, what happened was, his truck veered off the road. Sam overcompensated and ran right into a car that was stopped at a T-intersection. The driver was a sixteen-year-old girl from our town, from our school. She was beautiful, bright, funny, and popular. She was also a soccer star who had plans of playing in college.”

“Jesus.”

“Ironic, huh? People in town were angry at Sam. At all of us. Even though they knew what he’d gone through, they couldn’t forgive him for doing what he did. They arrested him on the spot, threw him in jail, and he never got out. He’s never been out, not since that night, because we couldn’t afford his bond. Dad had spent a fortune on Sam’s surgery because our insurance was crappy. That was over ten years ago.”

“How long was his sentence?”

“Thirty-five years.”

“Holy shit.” Rome’s eyes are huge.

“Yep.”

“Why did you say the town was angry at all of you?”

“Because we did everything we could to help Sam. We knew he needed substance-abuse counseling, but no one wanted to hear about that. It’s funny… when Sam was the jock, the superstar, they couldn’t get enough of him…” I wave it off. “No. What he did was wrong. Sam knows that. He took responsibility immediately. He even plead guilty because he knew what he did was wrong. His public defender didn’t try very hard to talk him out of it. I wish he hadn’t plead guilty, though, because maybe part of his sentence would have been substance-abuse help.” I’m getting off track. “We all felt terrible about the girl. She was a friend of Freddie’s too. It was all just awful.”

“Is that why you left? Because the town turned against you?”

“That and I needed to make money to help my dad. No one was going to hire any of us, but luckily, Dad worked for an old friend of his who stuck by him. It pays really shitty. That’s why I need to work: I want to help him. Freddie and Kevin try as well, but they’re both married with kids. It’s not as easy for them.”

“Why doesn’t your dad leave?”

I shrug. “I wish he would, but I think he’s waiting on Sam. Why? I don’t know. There’s no way Sam will want to move back.” Sam and I write to each other a lot. I know this for a fact. He wants to start over if and when he gets out.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? I would’ve understood.”

“Because I didn’t need your understanding, Rome. I still don’t. Sam isn’t a bad person. He’s always been a kind, gentle guy. He’s my favorite brother because he was my protector. I don’t tell the story because I don’t want anyone to judge him. He’s his own worst critic. I want him to be free. That way, he can do something worthwhile with his life. He deserves a second chance. And I know, that’s not fair to Kirsten, the girl that was killed. She didn’t get to live a life at all, but my brother has paid the price for the accident. He’s paid.”

“I’m sorry. I see your point. I hope to meet Sam someday. Maybe, if he gets out, he can come to Chicago. I know a guy who can find him a job.”

“You know a guy?”

“I do. I know several.”

“I just bet you do.” The idea makes me smile. To have Sam close, well, it’d be amazing.

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