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"You're the one who makes the schedule."
"Yes, I am."
"You could change it."
"I could. But I'm not going to."
"That's not fair."
"What's not fair is changing the schedule on Andrew who has a wife and baby at home who are expecting to see him Wednesday night. You don't get preferential treatment just because you're our kid."
"Then what the hell is the point of working at Chaz's?"
"Watch it,"I snapped, turning on my heel, chin lifted, jaw firm, in full-on Don't fuck with mom mode. "You don't want this job, you put in your two weeks like you would any other job. But no matter what way - stay or leave - your ass will be in that fucking bar with a bus tub on Wednesday night. Understood?"
"This is bu..."
"That sentence better be This is exactly what I deserve for not having forethought and work ethic, and I will attempt in the future to make sure the plans I make work around my work schedule, not the other way around."
Venom had slipped into my words, something he wisely picked up on.
"Un-puffing that chest would be a good idea right about now," Charlie said as he walked in, not having a clue what we were having words about, but not liking seeing his sons going full-posture to their mother. Mark shrank back a bit as his father kissed my temple on the way to wash blood off his hands. Someone else's. It was rarely his own these days. "Is there a problem?"
"Your son's work ethic could use some... reinforcing," I agreed, watching dread flood our son's face, and not being such a good person that I didn't enjoy the hell out of it.
"Is that so?" Charlie asked, turning slowly as he wiped his hand on paper towels.
See, Charlie had to bust his ass all his life to get to where he was now. The idea of his sons thinking they were entitled, that they wouldn't have to work hard to get ahead in life, brushed him the wrong way. "It sounds like you need to do a double this weekend."
"Ryan works on weekends."
"And he never complains about it," Charlie agreed.
He wasn't wrong. Ryan was on the fast track to being a workaholic once he graduated. Like Charlie, he wanted to prove himself. He wanted to work hard for what he got. He hadn't so much as asked for gas money since he turned sixteen and started bussing tables at Chaz's.
Eli had done his duty as well before giving his mandatory two weeks so he could get a job more suited to his personality, working at a local art gallery. The money was nothing compared to what he made at Chaz's thanks to servers sharing tips with the bussing staff, but it wasn't about that for him. It was about his passion.
He wouldn't be like Ryan, ambitious. But I had no worries that he would find his way eventually either.
Hunter maybe got distracted on the job, scribbling pictures on the placemats or napkins, but he did his part with a little reminding here and there.
Mark wasn't a problem child per se. He was just young, popular, more interested in partying than his brothers were. He wasn't known for slacking on the job. This was an isolated incident. But Charlie wanted to make sure that was all it was.
And Shane, well, he hadn't started yet. Soon though. I didn't worry about him either. More so than any of his brothers, he was out to gain his father's approval, wanted him to think well of him, whatever the cost. He would bust his ass, be the best busser we had ever had.
"Pops..." Mark tried, going for charming. Unfortunately, his father was immune. His fate was sealed.
And Ryan would likely be pissed that he was getting the weekend off.
But luckily, we were under the belief that if at least half of our kids were unhappy with us, we were likely doing our jobs right.
"Mark, can..." I started to ask, the phone suddenly screaming from the wall, demanding response.
With a sigh, knowing all the men in my life would likely answer the phone with a very rude Yeah? - Charlie included - I walked toward it.
Not knowing.
What would be said.
What repercussions would come.
What ghosts I would have to face up.
"Hello?" I said, half-distracted by Charlie telling Ryan his fate, actually feeling my lips curve up at the utter outrage on his face at the idea of getting some days off.
"Hello Helen."
I shouldn't have even known that voice.
Not after all the years.
Not after how time had changed it subtly.
But I knew it.
I knew it and my hand flew out, slapping Charlie in the chest, watching as he turned, concern tipping his lips down.
My lips formed the name that made his eyes go hard, as hard as my heart felt right that moment.
