CHAPTER 10

Concern for A.J. kept Keesha at the hospital. She respected his need to be alone, but she knew she could not leave until she had checked on him to make sure he was all right.

She tried to work on a case history, but A.J.'s admission that he'd wanted a drink dominated her thoughts. He had caught her completely unprepared to deal with that revelation. Keesha had worried often that the adversities with Carly and his father would cause A.J. to drink or at least to want to drink, but he had seemed to be handling everything so well that she had let down her guard and had let herself believe his alcoholism was no longer an issue between them. What a fool she had been, she thought. Seeing him in the throes of his craving and the mood it had caused had snapped her back to the harsh reality that if she hoped for any kind of a lasting relationship with A.J., alcohol would *always* play a part.

Keesha gave up trying to work and locked her office. She rode the elevator to A.J.'s floor and quietly entered his room. Her anxiety was alleviated when she saw how peacefully he was sleeping. She lightly stroked his hair and his cheek and saw that the tension had eased from his smooth features. She realized that tears had been shed and hoped they'd brought the release he'd needed. She stayed with him for a while longer before saying goodnight.

"I love you," she whispered to him. "I hope tomorrow will be a better day."

Keesha headed for the door and was surprised to see Alan standing there. He'd arrived shortly after she had and had witnessed her love for his son. He'd debated whether to leave or to risk facing her. Her gentleness with A.J. had kept him there. He'd wanted her to know how grateful he was that she was in his son's life.

Keesha didn't know what to say to Alan. Part of her wanted to strike out at him for what he'd done to A.J., but another part wanted to believe that there was an explanation for what had happened. Alan broke the uneasiness between them.

"I know A.J. doesn't want me here, and I know you know why," he quickly added. "But I need to see him."

"He's sleeping," she bluntly informed him. "Don't disturb him."

Alan knew he deserved that. "I won't. I saw how much you care for him, Keesha. I wish he had more people like you in his life."

"I *do* care about your son, Alan, and I would do anything for him. That includes keeping you from him if I thought you would harm him. But maybe seeing him will help you to do the right thing."

Keesha knew she had crossed a line, but she believed it was time for someone to begin challenging Alan regarding his actions toward his son.

With sadness in his eyes, Alan looked at A.J. as he spoke. "I never meant to harm him, Keesha."

She wanted to believe him, but having witnessed his treatment of A.J., she needed more than hearing regret in his voice.

"Don't wake him, Alan," she said and exited the room.

"Do you know what a champion you have in Keesha?" Alan whispered, as he crossed to A.J.'s bed.

He observed his son while trying to brush aside Keesha's words. Relief washed over him when he saw how well A.J. looked. His color was good, and he was not in any distress. The IV was present, and Alan knew from Monica that he wasn't eating. But he was resting comfortably, and that eased Alan's mind. He knew he needed to face A.J. when he was awake and healthier, but for now, it was enough to know that he was getting better.

As Alan watched his son sleep, he thought back to another time when A.J. had been lying in a hospital bed and how he had kept a vigil for him as he fought for his life. Soon after A.J. had been born, a heart irregularity had been discovered that required immediate surgery. He was so young, and Monica and Alan were so frightened, even though Alan had been harboring ill feelings because he believed A.J. wasn't his son. But he and Monica came together for A.J., and he pulled through with flying colors. And when Alan discovered that A.J. was his flesh and blood, there was no one happier than he.

"I do love you, son," Alan whispered. "I don't know why I have such a hard time showing you or saying that to you. I wish I could change things for you and for Jason, and maybe we could be a family again. I am thankful you're getting better. I could not have gone on if I had killed you. Thank God you're going to be all right."

He wanted to connect with A.J. on a physical level, but heeding Keesha's advice not to disturb him, he touched the foot of his bed as he left the room.

Monica glanced up from the nurses' station and could not believe Alan was leaving A.J.'s room. She quickly completed her chart notes and caught up with him in the corridor.

"What were you doing in A.J.'s room?" Monica asked, her voice low but determined.

Alan was surprised to see her and even more surprised at her question.

"Monica, I needed to see him. You, of all people, should be able to understand that."

Monica did understand, and she also saw that Alan was hurting. But her protectiveness for her son caused her to press on when the best thing probably would have been to let it go.

"What I understand is that you didn't listen again, Alan. I told you not to go near him," Monica said, her voice getting louder.

Two orderlies, passing by, took note.

"Could we not do this here?" Alan asked her impatiently.

"Fine. Let's go to your office."

Alan wanted to protest that it was late and that there was nothing to discuss, but he knew Monica would not let up until she'd had her say. They made their way to Alan's office where he offered her something to drink. She declined and after he poured himself a seltzer, Monica continued her questioning.

"Was A.J. awake?" she wanted to know.

"No. He was sleeping comfortably. I would not have gone in if he'd been awake. But I couldn't stay away, Monica. He's my son, and I almost lost him through my own stupid action. I had to see him. I've not had any peace since this happened. The last place I'd ever want to put either of my sons is in a hospital bed. I had to know that he was recovering."

Monica listened to Alan with renewed hope. This was the most he had spoken to her since A.J. had been brought in and the closest he had come to confiding in her. She wanted to encourage him.

"Have you been able to piece together any more of what might have happened?" she asked, trying to appear casual.

Keesha's words to do the right thing played over and over in Alan's mind. Wouldn't it be easier, he thought, to admit the truth than to keep up this charade? He placed his hand in his coat pocket and tightly clasped his pill bottle. Was he ready to admit he had a problem and to give up his pills? No, he decided, even as he saw Monica reaching out to him. He knew what words she wanted to hear, but he could not say them. His pills needed to remain his secret. For awhile longer. Until he was stronger. Until A.J. was fully recovered and out of the hospital. Then maybe he would admit the truth. Maybe.

Monica's calling his name brought Alan out of his thoughts.

"No," he said, in answer to her question. "I'm still not sure what could have happened."

Monica was disappointed with his response but felt Alan was reaching a turning point. Something was eating at him. Was it his conscience? She could only guess. But she knew sooner or later he would admit what he had done. In the meantime, she felt compelled, for A.J.'s sake, to reinforce his wish that Alan not see him.

"I don't begrudge you seeing A.J. tonight, Alan, but I want you to remember that he has asked you to stay away."

Alan nodded. "I know. You have my word that, unless A.J. asks for me, I will not see him again while he's in this hospital."

"I want to help, Alan. I don't enjoy seeing my husband and my son at odds."

"A.J. and I will always be at odds, Monica, but I want him living his life not fighting for it."

"Fair enough," she said. "I'm ready to call it a night. How about you?"

"I'll be home, but there's something I need to do. I'll see you later," he said.

"Okay," Monica told him and gave him a small smile. "See you at home."

From behind his desk, Alan watched as Monica left. He picked up the family portrait from his credenza and stared at his sons. Jason, a promising medical student, lost any memory of being a Quartermaine because of his brother, A.J.'s, drunk driving accident. Yet, Jason accepted A.J. for what he was and didn't judge him. Monica and A.J.'s grandparents had tried to understand and even to forgive A.J., but Alan couldn't. A.J. stole Jason from him. Every time he looked at A.J., he saw him as the alcoholic who did whatever he wanted, begged for forgiveness, and received it from the rest of the family. Alan had grown weary of his son, his lies, and his problems. Whenever he got caught, he'd promise to stop drinking and go into rehab but never did. None of it made any sense.

"Where did we go wrong, Monica? Our sons could have had and could have been anything they'd wanted. Instead, one is in the mob, with no recollection of who his family is or what his roots are, and the other is a marginally functioning alcoholic. And that's on a good day. We have so much to be proud of," he said derisively, and slammed down the frame in a fit of frustration.

He reached into his coat pocket and removed his pill bottle. He popped two pain pills and stretched out on the couch to ease the pounding of his head. He fell asleep and ended up spending another night at the hospital.


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