Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
He’s not soft, but he’s as close to it as anyone in our family could ever be. I love him for it, but sometimes, it pisses me off.
“I don’t have a lot of choices,” I say as if he’s going to understand it, but I know he doesn’t. I want to tell him all about how expensive his medicine is and how hard I’ve worked to make sure he doesn’t have to, but that would only pile more guilt on him, and that guilt itself would be a trigger for more seizures. And that would go against everything I’ve worked for.
“I can drop out of school,” he offers, glancing up. “I can pitch in, watch the baby while you’re at work, or I can get my own job—”
“No,” I say, and it sounds harsher than I expected. Nana gives me a reproving look and I soften. “No, you’re close to graduating, and your grades are really good. I think you’ve got a shot at an academic scholarship somewhere close if we’re really lucky. Then once you have a full degree, you can get a real job in an office or somewhere comfortable that won’t trigger any seizures.”
He nods slowly. “Then where’s that leave you?”
“Married to the handsome gangster,” Nana says. “Quit looking at me like that. There are worse things.”
“You really think I should do it?”
Nana gestures in the air with the cigarette before taking a drag. “I think you could see this as an opportunity. Give him a chance at least. Maybe you two hit it off and things aren’t so bad, or maybe he’s a real bastard and we have to move to Taiwan. Either way, it’s a risk, but we aren’t getting anywhere without taking a few of those.”
I shake my head. “We’d move to Florida. No way you’d make it to Taiwan.”
“No such thing as Taiwan,” Jason murmurs with a tight smile. “That’s just China’s chip manufacturing sector.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Hilarious.”
“I know, I’m funny.” His sheepish grin fades. “But seriously, Molls, why are you considering this? Nana’s right, marrying the guy is a risk, and who knows what’s going to happen? We’re getting by right now. The baby will make things hard, but we can manage. We always seem to manage.”
I grip the edge of the counter. I want to scream, we only ever manage because I work ten times harder than everyone else, but again, triggers. I hold my tongue and let it pass. I know Jason means well. He doesn’t want me to marry a guy I’ve only met a few times all thanks to one accidental bare-dick thrust, but Nana’s right. We need to take a risk, and Saul seems like our best chance at making our lives easier.
“He won’t be a stranger soon,” I tell him once my heartrate lowers a notch. “You can vet him for me in a few minutes.”
Jason’s eyebrows raise. “He’s coming over?”
“Bringing breakfast. Bagels, coffee, cream cheese.” I waggle my eyebrows at him. “Not so bad, huh?”
Jason doesn’t look convinced. “Why are you two acting like this is remotely reasonable? I’m not as naive as you think, Molls. I know we don’t have a lot of money. I know how hard you work to keep us afloat. But what’s that compared to marrying a total stranger? A guy who might turn out to be abusive, or creepy, or awful, or worse? I don’t want you to wake up ten years from now and realize you made a terrible mistake. This isn’t like trying to find a new job or something. This is changing your whole life.”
“I know you’re right,” I say but stop there. I want to tell him about coming home after working a double shift with an aching back and feet that feel like sharpened pencils only to sleep for a few hours, wake up, and do it all over again. I want to tell him about stealing Saul’s watch just so we could afford rent for another couple of months, show him our bills, or make him cash Nana’s pitiful Social Security check only to buy groceries we can barely afford.
But I don’t. Because if any of that stress triggered a seizure, I’d never forgive myself.
I love my brother. He’s a good person and he cares about our family. He works hard at school, kills himself to get perfect grades, and works selling sneakers all summer and on weekends just to afford his books.
It’s just that sometimes I resent him, not for being who he is, but because of how hard I’ve worked so he doesn’t have to know how bad things really are.
The argument gets interrupted by the downstairs buzzer. I let Saul up and he appears with more bags of groceries. “Thought you’d like these,” he says, following me into the kitchen. He’s in dark jeans and a button-down shirt. Business casual, except he looks like his business is runway modeling. I’m always struck by how handsome the guy is, from his chiseled jaw to his muscular thighs. Seriously, Saul’s got some incredible, beefy legs. I want to chew down on them.