Jessie & Elizabeth (abandoned)

17. Platonic Professions [Part 1]

My last word ended in a yelp — Elizabeth had all but crawled over the table to snatch my phone away. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she brought it to her ear, straightening her back like she was preparing for one of her business meetings. "This is Elizabeth Canfield," she said, her voice low and intimidating. "No, I'm not the girlfriend — no. Fine." I gaped at her. What in the holy hell was she doing? She crossed her legs now, which generally meant the game was on, and honestly, I would've protested, only I couldn't think of anything but girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend. "Just listen to me. You and your brothers need to stop using your sister as a piggy bank. She doesn't even have her own place; why should she fund yours?"

My heart was beating frantically, sweat dampening my forehead. I was too hungover for this. "Elizabeth—"

She just held up a finger, silencing me effectively, eyebrows rising as she listened to Kenny on the other side. He was talking loudly now; I could hear echoes of words, angry and harsh. "Good," she said, when he was done. "I happen to think you're a useless shit, so that makes us even." There was a frantic shout — then, she relaxed, ending the call with a satisfied tap on the screen. Without an explanation, she placed my phone back on the table, pushing it towards me.

I gaped at her. She was getting up like nothing had happened, resuming her position at the dishwasher, now with an unmistakable content tilt to her mouth.

"What did you just do?!"

She rolled her eyes, an air of superiority surrounding her, chin lifted, lips pressed tightly together. "I'm fed up with you getting fucked over by your brothers again and again. Do you honestly believe they're using your money for apartment deposits and van rentals?"

Maybe. Most of the time. Even if they didn't, what was it to her? They obviously needed cash for something, and did it matter what for? I was their sister. I was supposed to help them. And while her protectiveness was pretty adorable and made something flutter in my stomach, it wasn't her choice to make. "They're my brothers. I love them."

She nodded. "Good. Show them some tough love then. Don't give them your money whenever they ask for it."

Not this again. Ever since Mr. Miller had discovered I wasn't a trained professional and had cut my salary by a lot, she was extremely touchy about the subject. She'd told me she wouldn't hold it against me if I wanted to find another job — as if there were any available that made me this happy and still paid me a decent wage — and had been buying me stuff there and then under the guise of compensating for the dough I was missing out on. It was sweet and annoying at the same time. "I just want to look out for them. It's what family does."

"What about your sister?" Her tone was sharper now, and it sliced through my head like a knife.

"I'm sure my sister does what she can. And it's not like Ma has any money to spare. She cuts trees for a living."

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes, again. "It's not your job to support your siblings, Jessie. God knows what they even spend it on."

To be honest, I knew she was right. It was an unspoken agreement between my brothers and me, though, that no one ever mentioned that. "Does it matter what they use it for? They clearly need it."

"Yes. It matters if your brothers are blowing your savings on drugs."

"They're not addicts!" I said, then, at the look on her face, added: "Okay, so, Kenny and Daryl like to smoke a couple times a week. And Mike has an opium problem, but that's only because he broke his leg once. It's not his fault." She gave me a pointed stare. I knew what it sounded like, but really, it was my money, and I could decide what to do with it. This way, I could at least be useful to my brothers, maybe get them back on the right track. "Besides, it's not any of my business what they use it for."