A couple minutes later, my brother, Sam, strolled into the room wearing jeans, a windbreaker jacket, and a Nike baseball cap. Sam was the soft brown color of vanilla wafers and looked ten years younger than his actual age. Sam and I didn’t look alike and knowing Martha Littlejohn, I’m pretty certain we have different fathers. The top of the blue crucifix tattoo on his neck peeked out from the top of his jacket. He looked like he was dressed for a fall football game instead of a cold January evening.
“Hey! There’s my two favorite girls.”
“Shh . . . she’s asleep.” I whispered. I eased Vera back into the chair before I met Sam at the foot of her bed. I was happy to see him here for a change. I knew he didn’t stop by to visit Vera as often as I did.
“Oh, sorry.” Sam lowered his voice. “Where you been hiding? I tried to call you a couple times.” He leaned over, pecked me on the cheek, and finished up the greeting with a weak side hug. I knew what was coming. I’ve known my brother since he came into the world and there were only certain times he ever greeted me so heartily. “I just happened to drive by and I saw your car in the parking lot.”
“Oh, you did, did you?”
Between the two of us, he was the extrovert. He was the one who chatted up the old lady in line behind him at Kroger’s grocery store before letting her go ahead of him. Or he might buy a beer for some guy he met at a bar who was down on his luck, the two of them exchanging stories about their similar experiences in prison. He was a “people person.”
“And as for calling me, I told you before, I can’t talk to you while I’m at work,” I said, ignoring the pinch of guilt behind that lie. “And speaking of work, did you put in an application at that hardware store I told you about? They’re looking for people who have experience with electrical matters.”
“Work, work, work. Do you think about anything besides work?”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“Have you ever thought about getting a hobby, or a man, or something?” Sam said, giving me a boyish grin.
“Have you ever thought about getting a real, steady job?”
“I’m serious. Maybe you need to find yourself a man to chill that ice-queen image.” He mocked a shiver and laughed.
“Shut up, Sam. You’re not funny.” I walked to the window and closed the blinds.
Sam watched Vera sleep. “You know, she could stay with me if you’re too busy to watch her.”
“Ha! Right. And who would watch her when you disappear for days and weeks at a time?”
Sam gave a half smile. “She’s tough, but everybody gets called up eventually.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Where’s the lie? We both know it’s only a matter of time.” Sam took my seat in the chair across from Vera, removed his cap, and ran his hand across the scruff of his Afro. “Anyway, while I’m here . . . um . . . can you let me hold a few bills?”
I glared at Sam. “So that’s why you’re here?”
“Nah. I told you. I just—”
“Geez, Sam. I’ll make a deal with you. You can have all my money when I’m dead, okay? For now, why don’t you let me keep a little for myself?”
“Just a couple thousand, Ellie. I promise I’ll pay you back.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll disappear with it, blow it on God knows what, and I won’t hear from you until the next time you need a couple thousand or you need me as an alibi. Sam, I can’t afford to take care of you anymore.” I hesitated. “What do you need the money for this time?”
Sam looked down at the floor. “I need to handle something. I’ve got some of it, but not the whole thing.”
“Another gambling debt?” I was so sick of either bailing him out of jail or paying off one of his bookies.
“Are you gonna loan me the money or not?”
I folded my arms. “Not.”
Sam stood from the chair. “Same old Ellie. Always looking out for herself. I’m family.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop being dramatic.”
“I’m just being real. I’m about the closest thing you have to anything real in your life. But that’s cool. Keep thinking the world revolves around you. I’ll find the money from someplace else.”
Vera grunted in her sleep. I glanced over at her, then lowered my voice. “Sam, you fall off the grid for weeks at a time—no calls, no contact. Usually after you’ve created some mess I have to clean up. And then when you do call, you’re looking for a handout.”