Don't Hurt Me

Chapter 14

Probably the only thing worse than my father's refusal to look for work is the way the rest of us play along. We go about our lives around him like he isn't even there. We try not to talk about it, because it only leads to arguments, as what happens between Sam and me one night.

"You what?" I say to him as we stand in the middle of the kitchen.

"Come on, Clare. Just a couple of bucks."

"No."

"I'll pay you back."

"With what? A couple of teeth for the tooth fairy?" 

"It's not my fault my allowance got cut," he tries to defend himself. "That asshole refuses to get another job!"

"Sam, look at yourself." My voice has gone soft and quiet. "You're just like him."

My brother stops cold as if I've slapped him. His eyes flash with something raw and fierce. Something my words have created. He leans close, glaring me down. "I am nothing like him, do you understand? Don't you ever say anything like that again."

I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut. Once is enough, but it had to be said. Either he 's really denying it and doesn't believe me, or he knows that I'm right and the fact just fills him with hate.

"Get a job, Sammy," I mutter, walking out of the kitchen.

Yet our conversation still plays in my mind as I make my way up the stairs. Of course, all of us are having problems with cash ever since our father stopped working and chose to become a permanent fixture in the living room. But at least Rob and I are doing something about it. I don't see why Sam can't too. I know he has basketball practice and his friends and all, but that's no excuse. He needs to rethink his priorities.

Days go by. While my father makes the living room couch his home, I notice that my mother is going out every day now. She goes out in the morning and comes back in the evening. Just like a nine-to-fiver.

That weekend, I come downstairs to find her sitting at the kitchen table. She's sipping coffee by herself, and she looks tired.

"Mom."

She glances at me, unresponsive.

"Are you OK? You look awful."

She shrugs her broad shoulders. "It's just a headache."

I put some bread in the toaster and take a seat at the table. I look across at my mother. Tousled hair. Circles under the eyes. She puts a hand to the side of her head, clutching her dark blonde hair.

I inch forward, leaning over the table. "Mom, are you working now?"

"Hmm. What do you think?"

"I think you are."

She makes a small, bitter sound, rubbing one eye wearily. "I had to do something, Clare. There are bills to pay and I've just about given up on your father."

"Providing for the family is his responsibility."

"I can't let the family fall apart."

I wet my lips, falling silent. The moment stretches, until a ping sound startles both of us. I get up to retrieve my toast. As I start buttering, I turn to look at my mother.

How long has it been since we last talked, really talked? Weeks? Months? I'm still a little mad about that whole incident with her telling my father about Derek. I still can't help feeling betrayed by her. She never even tried to find out why I punched him ... unless maybe the reason just doesn't matter to her. "So tell me about your job," I prompt in an even voice.