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My brother was almost seventeen—sixteen years younger than me. He was a smart kid—smarter than me—and I hated that he had to put up with the home life that he had. Our mother was worthless, but she hadn’t always been that way.
When I had been born, my parents hadn’t had much to call their own, but we were happy. When I was nine, my parents were in a car accident. My father was killed, and my mother was permanently injured, so she couldn’t work and went on disability. But she wasn’t incapacitated enough for her to forget she’d previously been a loving mother, and she turned into someone who spent all her time with men and doing drugs.
When she got pregnant with Spencer, I actually thought she would turn her life around, but when Spencer’s dad left after he was three months old, she went back to her old ways. I had practically raised my brother until I graduated high school.
We ate pizza, and I helped Spencer with his homework, althoughhelpis a generous word. He had better grades than I had when I was his age.
We were just discussing watching a movie when the wordMompopped up on my brother’s phone screen. We both groaned. If our mom was calling, it meant that she wanted something from Spence, and he had learned long ago not to ignore her phone calls.
“Shit. Marjorie’s calling.” I hadn’t called that woman Mom in years.
His face was filled with disappointment as he picked up his cell. “Hey,” he answered reluctantly.
“Where are you?” she bellowed loud enough that I could hear it from the other side of the table.
Spence sighed. “At Dom’s.”
“Get your ass home.”
His shoulders slumped. “Okay.”
“And grab me a case and a carton on your way.”
I scoffed. Our mother had several places that allowed her minor son to pick up her alcohol and cigarettes. I wanted to call CPS and turn our mother in, but Spencer wouldn’t let me. He didn’t want any of the owners or employees of the stores he bought from to get in trouble.
“Okay,” Spencer said again and hung up.
I gritted my teeth as I watched him pick up his books and stuff them in his backpack.
Once upon a time, I had tried to get custody of Spencer, but my mother wasn’t having it. Even after I told her that she could keep the government checks and he would only sleep at my house, she wouldn’t give in. Partly because she’d had one too many DUIs and she needed an errand boy and also because she was weirdly possessive of my brother.
I even went to a couple of lawyers, but most of them said my case was hopeless due to my criminal record. Unlike my brother, I hadn’t had a safe haven to go to when I needed to get away from my house, so I’d hung out with my friends who weren’t what you would call good role models.
So, even though my mother had been busted for drinking and driving, I had disorderly conduct, vandalism, and a misdemeanor assault on my record. And even though it had all happened over a decade ago, I had known it would hurt me if we went in front of a judge. Plus, the state seemed to favor the mother, especially over someone who wasn’t a parent.
“Sorry, I have to go.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t your fault. Don’t ever apologize for her. You just get home safely. Don’t get pulled over by the cops.”
“I always put Mom’s stuff in the trunk.”
I snorted. “Yeah, but they could still bust you.”
“I’ll be careful.”
I walked Spencer to the door and ruffled his hair. “See you later, kid.”
“See ya later, old man,” he yelled as he ran out the door to his POS car.
Grinning, I stood and watched as my brother pulled out of the driveway and onto the road before shutting the door.
Once it was closed, I leaned back against it and sighed. I hated sending him back there.
My phone pinged in my pocket, and I pulled it out, ready to call Spencer and tell him not to text and drive but it wasn’t him.
Gina:Thank you for the favor last night.
I snorted.
