CHAPTER 29
A.J. found himself standing outside Alan's room. He couldn't explain why, but instead of seeking out Keesha or his mom, he needed to see his father. He knocked before entering the privacy of his father's room. Alan was awake, lying quietly in the bed, as A.J. approached.
"Hi, Dad," he said, standing next to the bed.
Alan looked in A.J.'s direction. He was having difficulty focusing.
"A.J.?" he whispered.
"It's me. How are you?"
"I feel horrible. Where am I?"
"You're in the hospital."
"Hospital? Why?" Alan asked, trying to clear the cobwebs. His recollection of the past twenty-four hours was sketchy at best. He didn't know if he had dreamed of A.J.'s helpfulness or if A.J. had been that kind.
"Do you remember any of what happened yesterday?"
"I don't remember much," Alan admitted. "Were you with me?"
"Yes. We were talking in your office when you began to feel ill. You asked me to find you a bed."
"So I didn't dream it. You were kind to me."
"I tried to be," A.J. said.
"Why was I feeling sick?" Alan asked. He wanted to remember what had taken place.
A.J. was reluctant to give his father the details, even though he knew he was searching for answers.
"Has anyone talked to you about your condition?"
"No. You're the first person I've been awake enough to talk to. I vaguely remember your grandfather and mother being here. I've also seen Amy, but she's been unusually quiet. AJ., please tell me what's going on. I need to know."
A.J. nodded and took a step closer to his father's bed.
"You were struggling with withdrawal symptoms," he began. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"My pain pills?" Alan questioned.
"Yes. You didn't have any. Your body reacted adversely to the lack of medication."
"Did I almost die?" he asked, needing to know why he felt so poorly.
"No, Dad," A.J. said seriously, wanting to reassure him. "But you do need treatment."
Alan nodded and reached for A.J.'s hand.
"Thank you, son. You've been so good to me."
"I want you to get better," A.J. told him honestly. He gave his father's hand a gentle squeeze.
Alan nodded before closing his eyes and falling asleep. A.J. was about to leave when Monica entered.
"A.J.!" she said, clearly surprised to see him. "I'm happy you're here. How's Alan doing?"
"He's still out of it, Mom. I talked with him, but I don't know how much he understood. He fell asleep a few minutes ago."
Monica observed A.J. as he spoke. She could tell something had happened. She hoped it didn't have anything to do with Alan.
"You don't look so good yourself. What's the latest with you?"
"We checked blood types, Mom," A.J. said somberly. "I'm not the father of Carly's baby."
"Are you 100% sure?"
He nodded. "My type and the baby's do not match."
Monica didn't know whether to congratulate him or offer sympathy. She was relieved for many reasons; she sensed, though, that A.J. was not.
"I see the sorrow in your eyes, sweetheart, but I think you're going to realize, in the long run, this was for the best. Think about it, A.J. You're free of any further entanglement with Carly. I'm happy for Tony, but I honestly don't envy his situation."
A.J. admitted he agreed with Monica on that score. "I told Tony the same thing. I guess I feel I deserved something for all the agony and suffering Carly put me through."
"And you got something, A.J. Your freedom. And a chance to start over with Keesha. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"It is. But this is a loss, Mom. I feel as though I lost someone very precious."
Monica squeezed his arm. "I know, A.J., but the feeling will pass. You need to look to the future. What did Keesha say about this?"
"I haven't told her. After learning the truth, I came here. I needed to see Dad. Don't ask me why."
"I know why," Monica said quietly, brushing back his hair.
A.J. looked at her quizzically.
"Because of the situation with your birth. Finding out whom you belong to is the most important thing in a child's life. Now that you know the baby belongs to Tony, you needed to reestablish your relationship with your father, no matter how rocky."
"I had such love for that little girl, Mom. It was one of the most incredible feelings I'd ever experienced. When I'd see her lying in that incubator, I'd want to hold on to her and never let go. I felt so protective. But she's not mine to love or protect. Yet, the feelings remain. I thought maybe I could come here and give some of my love to Dad. But as soon as I saw him, reality set in. He is in desperate need of help, Mom. I can't reach him. I've been trying, but I don't think it's working. And I'm afraid for him and me when he does get better. I think a lot of his anger is going to be directed at me. I don't know if Dad and I will ever get past the hurt."
"I'm beginning to understand what you're saying. I think the anger that's not directed at you is going to be directed at me. This all started when Dorman was alive. I'm sure that's been eating at him and will surface one way or the other. But we will work through this together. Once we get your father into treatment and he gets his anger and resentment out, we can begin to build new relationships. I'm not saying it's going to be easy or quick, but I believe it will happen."
"I hope you're right. He's been in such need these past two days, and that's when he reaches for me. But when he's healthy and strong, he looks past me. I want to be there for him, Mom, and you, and not just in these times but in the good times, too."
"I want the same thing. For all of us. We'll make your father see that. And he will."
A.J. nodded. "I've taken up enough of your time. I'll leave you alone with Dad."
"Are you going to see Keesha?"
"Later. I'm not ready to talk to her."
Monica watched as her son left the room. She hoped he would be able to reconcile his feelings about the baby, so he could see the bright future he had with Keesha.
She sat down and turning her attention to her sleeping husband, she held his hand, gently massaged his arm, and talked to him for over an hour. She kissed his hand before releasing it and was about to stand up to leave when he stirred and looked in her direction.
"Hi," she said, happy to see his brown eyes looking at her.
He nodded hello.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Not great," Alan answered, his voice weak. "What's going to happen to me, Monica?"
She heard the anxiety in his voice and tried her best to reassure him.
"Once you're feeling stronger, you'll be thoroughly examined and treatment will be prescribed."
"For my drug addiction?"
Monica couldn't believe Alan had finally admitted it. After waiting so long to hear him say the words, she thought she must be dreaming. She quickly composed herself so she could answer him.
"Yes, Alan, for your drug addiction."
"I know I need help," he continued. "Will you take care of me, Monica?"
"Yes, love, I'll be with you every step of the way."
Alan nodded and closed his eyes. Tears filled Monica's eyes as she watched the man she loved with every fiber of her being struggling to recover. Admitting he'd had a problem was the first step, she thought, albeit an important one, but the work and commitment that lay ahead were going to be the real challenges. Would he be able to do it? she asked herself. Would she? As she continued looking at him, her resolve grew stronger. She meant what she had said to him. She would be with him every painful step of the way. She knew there were going to be many.