Anthony recoils slightly and goes silent for a moment. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you two? It’s been months now, and neither of you will say what went down.”
I clench my teeth, looking out the window. I still get hot under the collar thinking about the disagreements we had. “Another time.” I make sure I say it with enough conviction so he won’t press the issue.
Anthony’s silent for a few moments before he replies, his voice quiet and intense. “You’re an asshole, Oliver. And Dad’s gonna be pissed when he can’t count on me.”
“That’s too bad. He doesn’t need you. Mom does.”
“He wants me to take your place, you know. At the company,” Anthony says. “Says he needs a right hand he can trust.”
Anger surges through my chest. He gave me the same line of shit back when I was twenty-one and he was recruiting me. But Anthony doesn’t understand. “That will be the biggest mistake you ever make.”
“Seems like you’re the one making a big mistake,” Anthony replies hotly. “Look at you, giving up your stake in our father’s company and moving here. And for what? Tell me one thing that’s here for you.”
“Mom,” I say. Truth be told, the list ends there, but it’s enough.
Anthony goes silent, guilt showing on his face. I know why. He wanted desperately to go with Dad like I did, to live the good life. But that would’ve left our mother all alone.
“You’re right,” he says quietly. “There’s Mom.”
I nod. “And I need you to spend time with her while I’m gone. In fact, I want you to stay at her house rather than the dorm. Martha shouldn’t be the one taking care of her.”
Anthony looks pained at that comment. “Damn, man. Travis said he was going to hook me up with this hot chick this weekend—”
The stony look on my face shuts him up. “I'm going to need you to stop making excuses. Take some fucking responsibility for once.”
Before Anthony can start, I cut him off. “I was supposed to help her with fixing the lights in the basement. She twisted her ankle doing laundry and needs a few things done around the house.”
Anthony swallows. “I didn’t know.”
“You don’t call. You never check on her.” I could go off on him about how he lives in the same town and neglects his mother. I checked in with Mom more when I was in college, and I was several states away. He lives in the same town.
“I’ve just been busy with classes. School work. This shit’s harder for me than it was for you.”
I turn away, looking out the window and ending the conversation. I don’t need to hear his excuses. I've always known that actions speak louder than words, and Anthony's actions have amounted to diddly squat when it comes to his relationship with our mother. Finally, as we pull up in front of Mom’s house, I turn back to him, my voice quiet.
“There’s more to life than just having a corner office, fucking chicks, and partying. Time to be a man, Anthony.”
“Oh, my word, my two boys,” my mom, Jamie Steele, says as we step into the living room of her house. She tries to get up from her seat, an old raggedy recliner, but I quickly motion her back down, noticing her bandaged ankle.
“Sit down, Mom,” I tell her, closing the door. “No pressure on the ankle, remember?”
I don't give her a chance to respond. I quickly make my way across the room, bend down, and pull her into my arms. It's been a few days since I last saw her, but she looks disheveled, her hair in disarray. She has fine frown lines going down the front on her lips brought on by cigarette smoke. Another thing Gavin and I agree on—I hate cigarettes, but I can’t stop her. It makes her look a lot older than she really is.
Her eyes light up when I step away, and she looks at Anthony. “And Anthony too? What have I done to deserve this?”
“Oh, stop it,” Anthony says sheepishly, coming forward to give her a hug.
“I can't help it,” she says as she pulls away. “You never come to see me. The last time I had you both under this roof is when Oliver came home from . . .”
Her voice trails off and a distant look comes over her eyes. I know what she's thinking about. How I left her to be my father's pet child. I thought she'd be okay with Anthony, but he resented the fact that I was gone and took it out on her like any kid would, with lots of stress and backtalk. It was only the fact that he was a kid when he did it that saved him from an ass beating.
She didn't tell me how bad it was until I came back home. I was furious when I found out what was really going on. At the same time, I felt guilty. I felt like maybe I shouldn't have left. And to know that she didn't take one red cent from my father makes it worse. She lives off the meager income she gets from her job as an office manager for a trucking company. I try to give her money to help, but she's too prideful to take any. I barely convinced her to take time off work with her ankle.
“You know I'm sorry,” Anthony says, and I think Mom’s words hit him harder than mine did. “I'm going to try to do better. Oliver told me that you hurt your ankle.”
“Yeah, I was trying to get the fabric softener refill in the basement when I fell,” Mom says. “My own fault. You know, Anthony, if you’d be more dependable . . .”
I think Anthony’s had enough. I went in on him the way over here, so I interrupt Mom before she can really get going. “Mom, Anthony’s going to be saying with you for the week. I asked him to help out at my office, and then he said he wanted to spend some quality time with you.”
Anthony gives me a grateful look as Mom turns to him, her face brightening in disbelief. “Tony? Is that true?”
He nods his head. “Yes. I’ll help out with any work you need around the house. Help out with groceries, take care of the basement, all that.”
“You’ll see, Mom,” I say. “Tony’s going to be a great help while I’m gone.”
My mom turns to me. “Gone? Gone where?”
I grit my teeth. I can lie to Anthony, but I can't lie to Mom. “Just going away for a week to a wedding.”
My mom’s eyebrows raise. “A wedding? Whose wedding?”
“A friend’s. I'm going as someone's date.” It's not a total lie but one I can get away with. I can hear Anthony grind his teeth, and I know I’ve got some explaining to do with him later. Not now.
“It must be someone important if you have to leave town for a week,” Mom fishes a bit too eagerly. “It sure would be nice to have some grandbabies.”
I almost blanch. She snuck that one in there with a quickness I wasn’t prepared for. Babies are the furthest thing from my mind right now.
“It’s totally not like that,” I say, my tone firm, letting her know the discussion is closed. “I’m doing it as a favor.”
My mom looks around suddenly, very excited. “Well, since I have you both here, why don’t I make your favorite, cherry pie? Hmm? If nothing else, we can spend some family time together before you leave with some good home-style cooking.”
My mom grins, and I’m so glad I forced Anthony to come. She’s the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. “Sure, Mom, as long as you stay off your ankle.”
“Well, you know back in my day, there was a song about cherry pie. Mine’s sweet enough to make a grown man cry,” Mom boasts with a laugh.
Anthony groans, slapping his forehead. “Really, Mom? That’s not what that song’s about. Please stop . . .”
I open my mouth to comment, but right then, Mindy pops in my mind. Her long legs, her sweet lips. And I have to think that maybe that band had a point.
There’s a sweet cherry pie, and I plan on tasting it.
Mindy
“How did it go?” Brianna asks me. “When I walked in on you guys, it looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
We’re in my bedroom and I'm getting the clothes ready that I'm going to wear for my trip. I packed a lot of nice dresses, and now I’ve got a problem. I might have packed some nice things, but I’ve got to do some shopping to get a few more outfits that would be more in line with what my mom would expect.