Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Damn.
I was about to cry again.
Eric saved me from that emotion.
“Please tell me you didn’t share that intel,” Eric demanded.
“Of course not,” I replied, openly affronted.
“Someone did,” he stated.
Shit!
“Tonight,” he grunted, and with that, he pulled his arm gently out of my hold and walked to the Denali.
Raye and Harlow showed with some plastic bags, and I helped Homer spread them, including holding one against the seat so he could settle back and hit the bag.
Once he was good, the General was already beside him, Cap was in, Eric was in and had turned the ignition, so I had no choice but to smile at Homer and the General, thank them, close Homer’s door, step back and watch Eric reverse and drive away.
He didn’t even flick his fingers to me, like Cap did to Raye (and he added a sweet smile with his goodbye).
Ugh.
Me and my girls stood outside the back door, a soft breeze fanning the scent of cilantro, basil, mint and thyme in our direction, and even though we were supposed to be waiting tables, nobody moved.
Street Warrior.
My brother was a Street Warrior.
I whirled on them and stated, “My brother’s name is Jeff. When he was seventeen, he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Mom and Dad were divorced long before then, mostly because Dad couldn’t quit fucking around, but also because Mom was a nag, the worst housekeeper alive, and a shit mother who considered her children and husband severe impediments to attaining her ultimate goal in life. That being acting like a teenager looking for a drunken good time until the day she dies.”
My chicks said nothing, though their eyes didn’t leave me.
So I kept talking.
“Dad was a shit housekeeper too, and jokingly called all of us his ‘balls and chains,’ even though he said it so often, it was clear it wasn’t a joke.”
“Jessie,” Harlow whispered sadly.
I couldn’t deal with her sad.
I had to get this out, or I’d never share it with them.
So I kept going.
“Needless to say, having a son with significant mental health needs was not something they’d signed up for. Though they did the deed and got the result of two kids, they acted like they didn’t sign up for parenthood either. To wit, I’ve taken care of Jeff for as long as I can remember, and when he got old enough, he returned the favor. It was the two of us surviving in a barren world of neglect and indifference. We weren’t beaten, but it was clear we were unwanted responsibilities, and the minute we could look after ourselves, they left us to it.”
I took in a deep breath, and none of them spoke, so I continued sharing.
“Jeff’s meds work relatively well. He’s usually good about taking them. The thing is, he also needs therapy. Behavioral. Cognitive. And there will always be triggers. Stress. If he starts drinking. Shit like that. He needs constants in his life. We’re tight, so even if I offered, he refuses to saddle me with him. And ‘saddle’ is his word. Not mine. Usually, he lives with Mom or Dad or one of his buds. One of his buds is good. They care so they look after him. Mom or Dad is bad, because they don’t give a shit and get on his ass to do things like pay rent and fix stuff around their houses. He can do that, no sweat, the thing is, the constant yammering from them is a stress trigger, and then things go south.”
I drew in a big breath and went on.
“Jeff being Jeff, he feels like a weight on his friends, so he doesn’t stay with them very often either. That’s why he’s with Mom or Dad most of the time. This isn’t the first time he’s been triggered, went off his meds and disappeared. But he has places he goes. It’s easy to find him. This time, I can’t find him. And Mom and Dad aren’t helping, because first, they don’t care. And second, they make it clear it’s a relief when he’s gone, because they don’t want him around in the first place.”
“Jesus, babe,” Luna whispered miserably.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Raye asked carefully.
I shrugged. “I honestly don’t really know.”
“Jessie,” Luna warned.
Fuck.
“Maybe it’s because I’m embarrassed,” I explained. “Not about Jeff. He can’t help it. And Jeff is awesome. The best baby bro in history. About my parents, who can.”
“You aren’t your parents,” Harlow pointed out.
“I know that. But I don’t like to think of them. I try not to see them. I don’t ever instigate talking to them. And the kicker to that is, they’re all the way down with that.”
“You still could have told us about them,” Harlow pushed.
“Really?” I asked sharply. “Why? What’s the purpose of you knowing my parents are useless wastes of space, not only when it comes to parenthood, but all around?”