“Mom,” my brother said. “No one is stopping you.”
Our mother turned from the open door, the hallway light blanketing her in a faded halo. She frowned. She nodded. Then she left.
* * *
My brother went to visit Chris at the pool. It was sprinkling and he didn’t invite me. I asked if he was going to ask Chris if he knew anything about the burglary, but he ignored me. After he left I locked the door and made a list. A list of things I didn’t want anyone to take. Not the burglar, not Chris, not the Stranger. Not anyone. Sparky, I wrote. The G.I. Joes my brother didn’t have and always wanted to borrow. I put my pencil down. I debated if I should add people to the list. I decided I should. At the top of the list, I wrote my brother’s name, without thinking why I did this, why I picked him over everyone else.
* * *
That it wasn’t Sandy my mother was staying with would have never occurred to me if not for my brother. Besides forgiving too easily, my other flaw, according to my brother, was that I believed whatever anyone said. So I believed it when my mother said she was sleeping at Sandy’s, that she did so only because the van was broken and that she sure did miss us. I would have never guessed she was spending the night with Rick, re-creating, I guessed, my mother’s birthday, their magical night on the couch.
My brother revealed this to me a few days later, one evening when I wanted to call our mom and complain that we were hungry, that we were tired of eating watered-down flakes and heels of bread that had recently celebrated the one-month anniversary of their expiration date.
“Go ahead,” my brother said, dangling a Joe from the fridge. “But she’s not at Sandy’s. She’s with Rick.”
I told him he was wrong. I asked him why Mom would leave Sandy’s number for emergencies if she was with Rick.
“Try the number,” my brother said. “You’ll see.”
I grabbed the new phone and dialed, and when Sandy answered after the first purr I turned to my brother to gloat. To say, In your stupid face. But then I thought of how Sandy had answered, what she had said: Fort Leavenworth Country Club, may I help you?
I pulled the phone away from my ear like it was a burning iron. I stared at it. On some faraway planet, Sandy said, Hello? Is there anybody there? Hello? Finally my brother took the phone out of my hands, smiled, and spoke into the receiver. “Help us,” he said, his voice slowing to an agonized groan. “We’re dying … The Stranger … He broke in … Please, somebody, help…” He hung up and returned the phone to the wall. “See,” he said. “It’s one big lie.”
Behind him, across the living/dining room, a late sun poured through the glass door. I thought about how easy it would be to climb up to our patio and break in. A lot of times the Stranger wouldn’t even need a rock. A lot of times we forgot to lock the door, wedge the stick so the door couldn’t slide.
“Why would she do that? What if something did happen?”
“You need to stop asking why,” my brother said. “Especially when it’s obvious. She’s a liar. Don’t you get that? Just like Dad.”
She may have been a liar, but thirty minutes later our mother did show up, bursting through the door in a sweaty panic. I was on the couch, trying to think of things to add to my most valuable items list.
“What the hell are you doing?” my mother said. “Are you all right?”
My brother came out of the kitchen, gnawing on the last stale cracker. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
My mother slapped the cracker out of his hand. “I mean it. Which one of you did it?”
“Did what?”
“It’s not funny,” my mother said. “I want an answer.”
My brother picked up Sparky, who I had left in the living room after sleeping on the floor the night before, and held him up. “I’m sorry. On the advice of my lawyer here, I plead the fifth.”
My mother grabbed my brother by the shoulders and shook him, slammed him against the back of the couch. “Stop it! This is serious! What if—”
“What if what?” my brother said. He shoved my mother off him and stood up. “What if something had happened? You wouldn’t have been here. Or at Sandy’s. Don’t try and make us feel bad.”
“For your information—”
“And we are dying here,” my brother said. “We’re starving and you won’t even fix the van. You’re off with Rick like an idiot.”
“Hey!” my mother said. “You do not call me that.” She put her hands on her hips and started tapping her foot to some fast but silent rhythm, some angry rock song only she could hear. “Fine, you want the van back? Fine. I will get the van back. I will get the van back right now, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, or do you want to just keep annoying the hell out of me?” I want the van back, my brother said, trying to look defiant. But his face seemed unsure. “Good,” my mother said, and she snatched Sparky from my brother’s hand. “Then we’ll start with this.”
Holding Sparky by the neck, she left the living room and we heard her stomp down the hall and kick open her bedroom door. My brother and I glanced at each other, guessing. A minute later our mother returned carrying a pile of random things: a small box of jewelry, a hair straightener, an old radio that belonged to her dad. She dropped them all on the floor like they were junk.
“What’s all that?” my brother said.
“This,” my mother said. “This is what it’s going to take. You think you’re big enough to solve adult problems. Well, here’s your chance. Go into your room and bring me your three most expensive toys.”
“What? Why?”
My mother lowered her gaze. “Adults don’t ask dumb questions. Now do it.” We knew she was past the point of arguing, so we did as we were told. My brother brought back the action-figure fortress he rarely used, and never let me touch. I returned with a robotic dog I played with when I felt like I was forgetting Baron. The dog came with a two-button remote. The first button made the dog speak. The second, shake. It belonged on the list.
“What are you doing?” my brother said.
She took the toys from my brother and threw them in a bag. “Just what I said. I’m going to get the van back.”
“Hey, you can’t do that.”
“This is what you wanted,” my mother said. “Remember? Besides, aren’t you getting too old for toys? You should be outside, exploring the world.”
We followed her into the living room as she searched for her keys. “You won’t let us,” my brother said.
“Well, what do you need toys for? You have the pool.”
“You won’t take us. You only let us go once by ourselves.” Even now my brother wouldn’t reveal that we had been sneaking out to the pool against our mother’s orders.
“Look, do you want to eat or what?” our mother said. “There they are.” She threw her keys in her purse and grabbed her big sunglasses. She put them on inside, so we couldn’t look her in the eye when she said goodbye, or maybe so she wouldn’t have to look at us.
“This isn’t fair,” my brother said. “We didn’t do anything.”
“Well, sorry, but that’s the way of the world. This is what has to be done. Now stay put. When I get back, we’ll go for ice cream or something.”
My brother tried to protest. “I don’t want—”
“Be quiet!” my mother yelled. “OK? Stop being a brat! Nobody cares what you want. Not right now. Just wait here and shut up.”