"What's wrong?"
"Why does there have to be anything wrong?" I reply.
"You only call on weekends and holidays, and barely then. It's Thursday. So, what's wrong?"
"I didn't think I needed a reason to call you," a rather standard response from me. We go through the almost exact same routine every time I call.
"What's wrong, Chris. Tell me."
"Don't you mean Phillip?" I blurt out with almost no hesitation. I know what it will do to her, but I need to get this done, and soon.
It takes her five seconds to respond. "He found you. After all this time, he found you."
"Actually, he didn't. A private detective found me. I had to go down to the courthouse to meet with someone about it."
"Courthouse? Are you in trouble? Am I in trouble?" She always thinks about herself first.
"After all but kidnapping me, changing our names a half-a-dozen times, whisking us around the country? It's been over twenty years; I doubt you're in trouble." I know her so well.
"That's good. So, why were you brought down?"
"Asked down, not brought down. He's dead, mom. Car accident last week," I try to be calm in saying it to her.
"At least it's nothing bad."
"He's dead. So is his wife. Try to be a little sympathetic. It turns out I'm the next of kin. I need to go to New York to clear up some details."
"There will be a lot of details. His father was rich, way rich, old money rich. That's why we had tome around so much. I needed to stay away, or else your father would try to keep you. No matter what else you hear, your father was not as good of a man as they say he was."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"He was into some weird things. That's why I left him as soon as I could. That man was not a normal human being. Do you know what you will be getting yet?"
"No. In fact, I might not be getting much at all. The only thing I know for sure is that I am now the guardian of my half-brother, Sam."
"A brother? After being raised by him, I am not sure you should be near him."
"He's only just turned fourteen. He has no one else to turn to. If I don't help him, there's nobody else." I practically yell at her.
"Fourteen? There's no way you're capable of handling a fourteen year old."
"Men my age have kids all the time! How will this be any different?"
"Men your age have toddlers, not teenagers. Besides, you are still not responsible enough to handle having a child."
"Responsible? I don't have enough fingers to count out all the times you thought I couldn't do something, and I proved you wrong." I am all but yelling now. While all this is going on, I'm busy online, planning for tomorrow's trip. Who says men can't multi-task? Sure, it's getting to become a distraction, but I manage.
"I am still you mother, even if you all but ignore me. You are not ready. You haven't even been able to have a girlfriend for more than a few months. How can you handle a teenager?"
"Look. I will be going to New York to take care of things. They might not even allow me to take him. I don't know what will happen. I just called today, because I might not be able to this weekend. And I had to tell you, I know. I know what you did when I was young."
"You don't know everything."
"I know more than you think."
"No, you don't. That family was wrong on so many fronts. Even if you get anything out of it, it won't be worth it."
"You just want your share. If you were so interested in money, you should have asked for alimony and child support. You moved into grandma's house less than a month after she died. You said it was because your place got damaged in a flood, but I know you just wanted to get her things before anyone else did," Especially after I found out about the secret bank account, that she got none of. "You sold that place, and someone moved in almost immediately. No clean up whatsoever. You just used it as an excuse to get rid of my old stuff."
"How dare you! I know more than you. You are wrong about what you think you know."
"I shouldn't have called. I'm not ready for this. Goodbye, Cindy Mae."
I hang up on her. She won't call me back, at least not tonight. I print off the last few things I need for the trip. There is a lot to do. I need to search online about what my mom said about my father. She can't be right about it.
That's when I notice it's after six. I better wake up Sam and start dinner, or we'll be late tomorrow.
"Sam, wake up. It's about time to eat. You better wash up and start thinking about what you want. I don't have that big a selection, but there's a lot to look at." I yell through the doorway into the living room.
"What?" Sam yawns as he sits up. "Where? Oh, yeah. I'm here."
He stands up to stretch and quickly turns away from me, his hand reaching down to rearrange his shorts. Apparently, he's woken up in a state most men wake up it, particularly teenagers.
"Where did you say the bathroom was? I think I was falling asleep when you told me the last time," he all but whispers.
"Through this doorway, and first door on the right. It connects directly into the bedroom, if you want to change into anything. I'd advise against it."
"Thanks."
I turn into the kitchen, as he slowly hobbles past. He deliberately keeps his back to me, so I can't see what he's got. I have to fight the urge to say something. I wait until he closes the door before I start to laugh. It really is a natural thing, so I shouldn't be laughing, but I can't help it.
Back in high school, I had a class with this one guy who did the exact same thing, but intentionally. He was a grade above me, soI didn't know him too well. At least once a week, he would get out of his desk to stretch and yawn, prominently displaying himself. Hardly anyone paid any attention, after the first few times he did it. He probably thought it was funny. I just thought it was crass and rude. He wasn't even that impressive. I would call it 'below-average' myself. Not that I ever actually saw him, mind you. Still, I can see how such I thing could be funny.
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