Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“And where were you learning this approach to life while all your buddies were learning how to live off their trust funds?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t just brush it off. I really want to know. You have this mentality about your parents. With the apartment and the stuff…obviously you know why you don’t take shit from them. At some point, you started saying, ‘No. I don’t want anything from you guys.’ ”
“I guess after everything with Becky. Everything, since we were little, was always focused on Mom’s career…on getting her to the next level. When I was younger, it was just into congress. And now, she’s the fucking governor. Even that’s not enough. She wants to find a way into the White House. Knowing her, she probably will. When Becky started getting treatment, she kept it quiet from the press. Didn’t talk about it. Everything had to be done in secret. And it was like she was fucking ashamed of what was happening to Becky. And then when we lost her, she started using it as her fucking platform. Wouldn’t talk about it one moment and then used it for votes. I just…I didn’t want any part of the money she earned for using my sister like that.”
Talking about it evokes fresh tears.
“Come here,” he says. I reposition myself so I’m lounging on my side against him and he kisses me.
There’s that relief again.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Yeah. I just can’t stand that she’s still doing it. And I don’t feel like a good person when she’s parading me around with her. I’m an accomplice.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I remember a time where she was different. And I remember how much she did for Becky. How much she cried when she passed. I know there’s a good woman in there somewhere. I just haven’t seen her in a long time.”
As I look into his eyes, I see that I’ve stirred up something. I know it’s not about my family, but his.
“I’m sorry. I’m always complaining about Mom, but at least my parents stuck around.”
“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I just don’t ever talk about it because I didn’t ever get a chance to know my parents. Mom wasn’t around when I was a kid. She’d run off with some other guy and decided that I obviously wasn’t a part of her future. That’s what Dad always told me, at least. I guess that’s the nice way of putting it. His version was more like, ‘Your mother never loved you, so she left both of us.’ ”
“Oh my God.”
“No, don’t feel sorry for me. He was an asshole. I don’t know how Nanna could be such an amazing person and have given birth to such a shithead. He was a construction worker, and I didn’t see him most of the time. When I did, he was either stoned out of his mind or wasted. Not the abusive kind that people always give shit. More the negligent, doesn’t-give-a-fuck kind. He started hitting harder stuff when I began high school. Needless to say, I had to get good at mooching rides off other kids so that I could play football or do any sort of extracurricular activity.”
“You played football?”
That’s hot as fuck.
He smiles. He clearly knows why that story interested me.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m so good at tackling your ass,” he says.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“That’s pretty much it. I don’t know why he felt like he had to get rid of me since he didn’t do shit. I guess maybe it just weighed on his mind too much when I was around the house like that. Whatever the reason, he dropped me off at Nanna’s, claiming some bullshit about having to go out of town for some sort of work conference. Yeah right.” He scoffs. “I knew he was gone the moment he drove off, and I think Nanna did, too. But I fucking lucked out getting Nanna and not having to deal with my asshole parents.”
As he says it though, I can see his discomfort. Like he’s silently screaming, “But why didn’t you love me?”
Maybe that’s why he was always pushing against the idea of getting close to people. Maybe that’s why he preferred to just hook up with guys.
My thoughts pull me in another, equally compelling direction. “So considering your dad was a drug addict, I wouldn’t have expected you to go into this line of work to begin with.”
He smirks wryly. “Right? Oh, well, I guess it’s just the family business. How this shitty world works, I guess.”
“But it doesn’t make you feel weird, knowing that you’re enabling someone else to be that much of a deadbeat?”
“I figure they’re going to end up like that anyway. In some ways, I wonder if I’m not doing this because it’s sort of revenge against my father. Like I’m helping these people wreck their lives sooner rather than later, but really, I think the reason I kept it at dealing with college kids is because it’s mostly recreational. It won’t always be, I know that. But at least I can justify it by saying that they’re not fucking up some kid’s life. Just their own. Plus, you know how I hate you bratty rich kids anyway. I don’t care if I fuck you up a bit.”