Page 47 of Catcher

My grip tightens around the key until I feel it bite into my palm. “People,” I repeat. “What have you done, Robby?” I take a step farther into the room, just enough to see the whole of him under the lamp. “Do you owe somebody money?” I ask because when it comes to my brother, chances are it involves money.

For a second, he looks as if he might lie, and the old Robby will rise. His charm first, truth later. But whatever has him spooked is bigger than his pride. He swallows. “Yeah,” he says. “I owe some money. And they are… they’re not exactly patient.”

My mouth goes dry. The last time I heard anything like this, my brother cleaned out my mother’s jewelry box just before he disappeared.

“How much?” I ask. “How much do you owe?”

Robby’s shoulders rise and fall. “It doesn’t matter. Look, you don’t need to know all that.” His eyes dart again to the front window. “I just need a place to crash. A couch, a blanket, and maybe…” He hesitates, then barrels ahead like he always does when he knows he’s asking for too much. “Maybe you can spot me some cash. Just enough to get them off my back and buy me some time.”

Something hot and bitter rises in my chest, pushing aside the leftover fear.

I can’t believe him.

Goddammit! I can, but I hate that I can.

“Are you kidding me?” I say, the words are coming out sharp enough to cut. “You show up out of nowhere after two years, Robby. Two years. No calls, no texts, nothing but silence, and then you break into my house and ask me for money because you think I’m an ATM?”

Robby’s face hardens, the skittishness rearranging itself into something meaner. “I didn’t break in. I had a key. And yeah, I’m asking for help. That’s what family does, Ruby.”

I feel my lips pull back, and I contemplate biting my tongue, but not this time. “Family doesn’t take out credit cards in your sister’s name.”

The words hang there, heavy and ugly. I watch the flicker in his eyes, the second where he measures whether to pretend he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. I have been living with those phone calls for months, with the quiet dread of opening my mailbox, with the humiliation of sitting in a bank office while a stranger explains what a ‘fraudulent line of credit’ is. I’m the kind of person who does it to myself. Like, I don’t deserve to buy my dream home. The home I’ve been eying for months. The home I drive past every single day to see if it’s still on the market, even though I know I’ll never be able to purchase it. Every day I live with the fact that my dream will never be a reality because my brother is a selfish prick.

“I was going to pay it back,” Robby snaps, thinking his words will fix everything. “It wasn’t… Ruby, it wasn’t like that. I just needed a little breathing room. And you’re fine. You’ve always been fine. I mean, look at you.” He spreads his arms wide. “You have a nice house to lay your head every night. You’re not exactly hurting.”

“I’m fine?” My voice rises despite myself. I hate that he can still pull that out of me. “Do you have any idea what it did to me, Robby? I’m still paying it down. I’m still getting alerts on my credit report. Do you know what it feels like to have endless calls harassing you? To have bill after bill flood your mailbox? To have to work extra jobs to pay off a debt someone else racked up? No, you don’t, Robby, because you are selfish. You don’t care about who you hurt as long as you get what you want. You don’t care about blood until you need help. And when someone tells you no, you say to hell with them and just take. Well, I have news for you, brother of mine, I’m not letting you take from me anymore.”

Robby’s nostrils flare. “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re mad. But I’m here now because I need you, Ruby. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t serious.” Robby speaks as though he didn’t hear a word I just said.

I take another breath, deeper this time, trying to keep my hands from shaking. “It’s always serious with you,” I say. “It’s always a crisis. It’s always ‘just this one thing’ that turns into the next thing and the next. And Mom and Dad…” I swallow hard on their names. “Mom and Dad always end up paying for it. Or I do. Or both.”

At the mention of our parents, Robby’s face tightens. “Don’t drag them into this. I’m not going to them.”

“You drag them into it the minute you decide you need saving again,” I say. “If someone’s after you, then call the police. Go to a station. Do something that isn’t breaking into my house to strong-arm me and hoping I’ll fold.”

Robby barks a laugh that holds no humor. “Yeah, because that’s how this works.” He paces two steps, then stops. “It’s not… Ruby, it’s not that kind of thing. The cops can’t help me. And these aren’t the kind of people you snitch on.”

“Then what kind of people are t-they?” I demand. My voice cracks at the edges. “What did you do?”

His eyes flash. “I didn’t do anything,” he says too fast. Then, when my stare doesn’t budge, he spits, “It’s none of your business, okay? I’m not here to give you a confession. I’m here because you’re my sister, and I need help.”

Something inside me settles, like a door clicking into place. “No,” I say simply.

The word lands like a punch to the gut. I watch him blink, as if his brain doesn’t register that answer as a possibility. “No,” I repeat, louder. “You can’t stay here. And you are not getting money from me.”

“Wow,” Robby says with disbelief. “So, you’re just going to… what? Are you just going to toss me out? Your own brother?”

My laugh comes out bitter. “After everything?” I repeat. “You mean after everything you’ve done? You don’t get to walk in here and act as if I owe you for anything. You’ve never given me a thing.”

For the first time, the hard mask on his face cracks. “Ruby,” he says, and there’s something almost raw in it. “Just one night. I’ll sleep in my car if I have to, but…” He swallows. “They’re looking for me. These aren’t the kind of people you can ignore.”

A chill runs down my spine. Not because I don’t believe him, but because I do. I look at the front window again, suddenly becoming anxious. “That’s exactly why you can’t stay,” I say. “If they’re looking for you, then you being here puts me in danger too. It puts my neighbors in danger. It puts Mom and Dad in danger if you decide to run to them next. I’m not going to be collateral damage because you make another deal you can’t keep.”

Robby’s expression hardens. “God, you’re always so dramatic,” he hisses. “Listen to yourself. ‘Collateral damage.’ ”

“I was in danger the moment I opened my door and found you sitting in the dark,” I shoot back. “And don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. The porch light doesn’t come on. Did you mess with it?”

He hesitates for half a second too long. “I turned it off,” he mutters. “So nobody would see me sitting out there. It’s not a big deal.”