JOSH
“What took you so long?”Timothy didn’t even bother to lift his eyes from his phone.His thumbs kept tapping.Then he spun lazily in my desk chair like he owned the place.Like he ownedme.
The sight of him lounging there made feel cornered.I hated being his errand boy, his beck-and-call lackey.Yet, like some pathetic reflex, there was that old, familiar gut-deep scramble to please him.To prove I wasn’t the useless kid he always said I was.
Growing up, I would’ve done anything for a scrap of praise from him.I lived for the rare moment when he didn’t look at me like I was a disappointment.
My left calf still carried the crooked white scar from that day I accidentally dropped his knife.Sometimes, I still felt that hot sting, the jolt of realizing he’d thrown it and Ithinkmissed on purpose.He had apologized afterward and had been nicer for a while.Timothy always exploded first and thought later.He’d gotten better at wrestling the rage that lived inside him into something that behaved like a person with feelings.
After a throat clear I said, “We discussed the direction of our business and decided to scale back and perhaps phase out the farm animal aspect of the clinic.That was more Roland’s interest than mine.”
He slammed his phone down on the desktop so hard the pen holder jumped.“That’s bullshit.You can’t stop seeing the cows.”His voice cracked like a whip.“You’re…pretty good at it.”
The reluctant compliment threw me for a moment.I hated that some part of me was wired to light up whenever he tossed a crumb of approval my way.
“The farm calls don’t bring in much money,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.“Like you, half my clients delay payments.That puts the business in the red between the cost of my time and the supplies.”I drew a breath, realizing as I said it thatnotasted better than anything I’d said to him in years.“For now, I think you need to ask someone else to come out to the farm and be on-call for your animals.”
He stood, rising to his full height.Although he was an inch shorter than me, he’d always acted like he towered over the world.His jaw clenched.“You’re turning your back on the family?”
My mouth dried to cotton candy, dissolving on my tongue and leaving nothing but grit.I crossed my arms.“That’s not what I said.”
“We’re the only ones who will have your back when this business comes crashing down.Dad put up the money for you to buy your part of this clinic.”
“I make a payment to him every month.Within a year, I’ll have his investment paid off.”Heart pounding, I forced out, “Your account is three months overdue.You can reach out to Sky Ranch Vets to see if they have time for you today.”
“I’m not calling fucking Sky Ranch.They demand payment up front.”
He paid the other guys, but not us.“Did you stiff them on a few bills too?You can understand why it’s a problem for me to continue to work on the farm.”
“You’re abandoning us?”
“Helping you is killing my business.”My voice broke open, louder than I intended.“I already give you a discount, but I can’t do it for free anymore.”I pointed at the computer monitor, the numbers glaring like a spotlight, even though it wasn’t his chart up on the screen.“The farm currently owes us three thousand dollars and change.If someone owedyouthat much, would you keep showing up?Would you keep giving them service on credit?”
His jaw shifted.A flash of guilt or rage passed over his face.I couldn’t tell which.
I continued, “You cut half the employees on Dad’s farm last year just to increase profits.Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do exactly what I’m doing right now.”I steadied myself by leaning against the desk.“I need you to pay the outstanding balance.If you won’t, I can’t help you anymore.”
“You little shit.”His voice vibrated the air between us.“Howdareyou refuse me service?”He reared back, shoulders squared like he was prepping for a fight.
Nausea crawled up my throat, but I forced my feet to stay planted.I remembered the last time he threw a punch at me, in my junior year of high school.He lost.I was a hell of a lot stronger now.
“You can’t do that.”His eyes narrowed to slits.A threat.
“Timothy, come on.”I spread my hands in hopes it’d calm him.“Pay me so I can keep being your vet.Or…” I pointed to the door, heat burning behind my eyes.“Get out.”
His face went red, blotchy with disbelief.“You wouldn’t pull this kind of shit with Dad.And you sure as hell won’t with me.”
Guilt rushed in hard and fast.It was the kind that squeezed my ribs until breathing hurt.All I could see was the calf with pneumonia from last night, sides heaving, eyes glassy with fever, fighting for air in that drafty barn.None of this was her fault.None of the animals deserved to be caught in the middle of a family war.
My resolve wavered.I hated myself for it.
“Look,” I said quietly, rubbing the back of my neck, “I might be able to stop by today and check on the sick calf.”The words tasted like a betrayal of my own boundaries.“But I need you to pay by next week if you want me to keep the farm on as a client.I can’t keep choosing between doing the right thing for the animals and destroying my life for you.”
“That Chomping bitch put you up to this.She always did make you go against the family.”The insult hit like a slap.He was referring to theonetime back I high school when I’d missed Sunday dinner to stay with her in the evening.Erika had a horse show about two hours away that ran late.Once, in my entire life, I’d missed dinner to see my girlfriend compete, and he’d never let it go.Rage uncoiled inside me, hot and wild.
“Don’t call her a bitch.”I stepped in close until we were nearly chest to chest.“She’s ten times smarter than the both of us put together, and you know it.”
“Good thing she’s leaving.”
