The Driving Force to Love (MXM) ✔

Chapter 32

Dean Axle Lance

I hadn't been to this particular halfway house before, but I had visited my brother in enough places like this that I could guess the procedure. I went to the check-in desk and told them who I was there to see. They checked my I.D., had me sign in and then they took me to an area with tables and chairs where I waited.

Mark looked better than I had seen him for a long time. But he always did look best right after he got out of prison. I stood up and hugged him. His arms were tight around me. It had been years since I had seen him though I did speak with him at least once a month by phone. His hair was the same color as mine, but cut close to his head. His eyes were the same color that our father's had been, a sky blue.

He sat across the table from me. Neither of us spoke for several moments. Finally I said, "You look healthy."

"Thanks," he said. When he was in prison, he would work out. You had to be strong to survive places like that. When he was on meth, he was sickly skinny. "You too," he said.

"I might have found a place for you to live when you get out of here. I'm going to go check it out after this," I said.

He nodded. "I appreciate you doing that, Dean."

"Are you okay here?" I asked. I tried not to judge the other people I saw around us who had visitors of their own. All of them had that same look of someone struggling. The same look as my brother.

"I'm okay," he said. He looked around at the others before he leaned forward and whispered, "There are more drugs being passed around here then I thought there was going to be. I'm trying to stay away and not associate with anyone, but it's difficult."

And that twisted my heart painfully. I was worried I was going to lose him again. The only time I felt I could really breathe easy was when he was in prison. When he was out, I constantly worried about what he would do. When he was clean, I constantly worried that the drugs would be too tempting and he would fall back on them. I worried that he would steal from some poor family. I worried that he would hurt someone or would get hurt himself. I worried that he would overdose. I worried that he would piss off the wrong person and get killed. I worried that he would be in a high speed chase with police and do property damage, or hurt someone or kill someone. I worried that he would resist arrest and get shot. There were too many worries when it came to him.

"Mark," I said, "please stay clean," I pleaded. "I know I don't know how difficult that is for you, but what I do know is that I want my little brother back. Please."

"I know," Mark said. "I'm trying. I'm not associating myself with anyone. It helps when you come visit though."

"I'll try to come as often as I can," I said. "It might be a little difficult because visiting hours are when my shop is open and you will be working soon too, but I will come when I can. Just remember when times are tough that I want my brother back. Have you had any progress with job hunting?"

"I went on a few interviews," he said. "My choices are limited. Not a lot of people want to hire ex-convicts and I have to obey the halfway house hours so I can only work during the day. It would be easier to find work if I was allowed to work the graveyard shift."

"Do you have your parole officer's name and number?"

"Yeah," he dug into his pocket and brought out a slip of paper. He handed it to me.

"Should I tell him about the drugs being passed around here?" I asked.

Mark immediately shook his head. "No. I don't want anyone to get in trouble. He probably already knows anyway, just doesn't have evidence and no one here is going to help him get that."