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“Oh, really?” I replied with a full head of sarcasm. “I don’t know—you took a cut of my pay, and you were getting paid off to keep tabs on me. What exactly was the reason then?”
Yolanda walked over to the bench and dropped down heavily. She rested her forehead in her hands as she bent over her knees.
“I did,” she admitted. “But that’s not the reason I took you in. You were already living with me when your father came up and offered the money to me.”
My instinctive reaction was to tell her to fuck off and walk away. I wanted to more than just about anything, but a lot of shit Erin said about making my life easier by actually listening to people kept floating around in my head. So, instead of calling bullshit again, I folded my arms across my chest and just watched and waited.
Yolanda eyed me warily for a moment and then went on.
“Everything he was asking me to do—watch out for you, keep you off the drugs, give you a reason to be sober—I was going to do it all anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because…because…fuck, what does it matter?”
“It probably doesn’t,” I shrugged, “but if you want to tell me, this might be the only time I’m willing to hear it.”
She leaned back against the concrete wall and looked up to the ceiling as she let out a long breath through pursed lips. She closed her eyes for a moment, and her throat bobbed before she spoke again.
“My brother…my little brother…” She paused again. “He was a wrestler in high school, just like you were. He was good, too. Better than you. He had all this potential to do whatever he wanted, but instead he met this girl.”
My chest tightened a little, but I tried not to let it show.
“She was a hell-child, that one. Into all kinds of shit. He started with smoking pot, then tried a few other things—opiu
m, LSD—I don’t know what all else. I just know that at one point, he decided to try blow. What none of us knew was that he had a heart condition—one that might never have caused him any problems at all, but one that ended up not mixing well with cocaine.”
Her hands were shaking a little, but she gripped her thighs and went on.
“His heart started beating too fast from the coke, and it just gave out. He died the first time he tried it.”
She looked back at me.
“You remind me of him,” she said. “You always did. I felt like if I helped you, maybe it would make up a little for not being able to help him.”
She sniffed, glanced at me, and then glanced away to wipe at her eye. There was something totally…off about the gesture, and I remembered why.
I had still been somewhat strung out—not actually high, but coming down after a relapse. She had been pissed—really, really pissed at me. She’d coldcocked me when I arrived at her door.
I had been on the couch, just staring at the television and only half watching a commercial for some product that was going to change the lives of housewives everywhere. Yolanda was on the phone, and I only paid attention because it wasn’t me she was yelling at.
“Fuck you, Mother!” Yolanda was yelling. “There is no way I’m helping you out again. You obviously should have had more than one child so you had someone else to call and bitch out. I’m just not interested anymore!”
Yolanda had slammed the phone down with a bang loud enough to make me jump and fall off the couch.
“You are totally full of shit, aren’t you?” I asked.
“What?” she responded, but she wasn’t really surprised. The little jump in her voice was way too late.
“You,” I said distinctly. “You are full of shit.”
“Liam, I only wanted—”
“Hey, Yolanda!” Al walked over and gave her a hug. “I haven’t seen you in years! How are you?”
“I’m…I’m good, Al. How are you?”
“Can’t complain,” he said with a big smile. “Especially not with Teague hanging out at the gym. If I did, he’d probably take me out!”
