“Stubbornness. Good old-fashioned stubbornness. We can’t make other people do things for us, no matter how much we want them to.”
He seemed to be talking about something I didn’t know about, and I didn’t ask.
I folded up the papers and slid them into the envelope, then put it back into the drawer. I would make the appropriate calls in the morning.
“And,” I said, “here I am tearing myself apart over it, and the fucking will gives you guardianship of Ronnie. Why did she need to ride me so hard?”
I caught myself. Why was I worrying about these things now? She was gone. Mom was gone. Who cared about anything else?
“I’m not getting any younger either,” he said. “Look, you’re of a different generation than your mother. She’s sixty-nine. You’re twenty-six. You want to have a career. You worked after college in Illinois and supported yourself. You’re independent. She never thought about those things. Her whole life was her kids, especially Ronnie. She lived to make sure he was okay. That’s why he’s doing so well. She spent so much time with him. Talking to him, reading to him.”
I tried to collect my thoughts, tried to be logical and calm at the most illogical time of my life. My mother is gone.
I swallowed hard. “So why was she so adamant about getting a promise from me now?” I asked.
“Maybe she felt the clock ticking,” he said. “She knew time was passing. She knew this day was coming. Let’s face it, kiddo, getting old fucking sucks. It might be the only thing worse than being alone.”
He rarely cursed. Given the circumstances, it didn’t surprise me that much. I needed to tell him about the police and their questions.
“They don’t think she died of natural causes,” I said.
He barely moved. “What?” His voice sounded hollow.
“They’re investigating to see if Mom’s death was a homicide.”
Whatever color had returned to his face and lips left them again. Color even seemed to have drained from his eyes. “That’s crazy,” he said.
I stood up, placed my arm on his, and guided him inside the bedroom. He resisted a little, but I continued with the pressure on his arm. I closed the bedroom door. We stood face-to-face, and I spoke in a low voice just in case Ronnie had woken up. I said, “The police were asking some strange questions before they left.”
“Like what?”
“First they wanted to know if Mom had been having any troubles,” I said. “I don’t know what they meant. I told them she’s an old woman who takes care of her adult son. She doesn’t do anything else.” I paused. I wasn’t sure about the next part, but I thought it needed to be said. I hoped Paul could talk me down more than anything else. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid or emotional or something, but they were asking me about Ronnie. About his whereabouts. Like they needed an alibi for him or something.”
“Jesus.” Paul raised his hand to his mouth and chewed on his thumbnail.
“I know. It was weird.”
“Maybe that’s just routine.”
“They didn’t ask about me. I was just sitting at home studying. Alone. Did they ask you?”
He shook his head. “They barely said anything to me when they called.”
“See?”
“It seems kind of strange…” He looked at the floor, his head lowering.
“They said there were bruises on her body.” I felt the emotion rising again, almost choking me. My eyes filled with tears, and I wiped them away. I cleared my throat. “I didn’t see them. I didn’t really look. But that’s all they said. Bruises.”
“Maybe she bruised herself when she fell.”
“And they wanted to know where Ronnie was. He says he was at Mrs. Morgan’s house, but he doesn’t know why Mom sent him there. Do you know?”
“Where would she go on a Saturday night?”
“Exactly,” I said.
Paul didn’t stop chewing at his nail. He really worked at it, like a dog with a bone. The color hadn’t returned to his face, and he looked worse. Stricken almost.
“If this is upsetting you, we can stop,” I said. “I know it’s a big loss for you. Your sister—”
“I have something to tell you,” he said. His voice sounded leaden and ominous.
“What?” I asked.
“About Ronnie,” he said, still chewing that nail. He finally stopped but didn’t look directly at me. “Something happened about a month ago. I don’t think your mom told you about it.”
“Something with Ronnie?”
“We were supposed to go fishing, he and I. But Ronnie did something that got him in trouble. I don’t really know what exactly. I think he refused to see his speech therapist, something like that. So Leslie said he couldn’t go fishing. You know how she is—rules are rules. Obligation and reward.” He sounded a little angry as he spoke, the younger brother who had faced this catechism before. “She told him he couldn’t go, and Ronnie… well, there’s no easy way to say it. He got a little violent.”
“What did he do?”
“I don’t think he touched her, but she felt threatened, you know, by his behavior.”
“He’s always had those temper tantrums,” I said, remembering many a kicking and screaming fit when we were growing up. They had certainly lessened over the years, but they still returned from time to time. “She can handle those. And so can you.”
“She felt it was different this time. Worse.” He held his hands out in a resigned gesture. “She called the police. No charges were filed, and Ronnie calmed down. But it really shook her up.”
It was my turn to stare at the floor. I couldn’t be certain what disturbed me more—the fact that my brother had grown so threatening that the police had to intervene, or that no one had bothered to tell me about this major family crisis.
Paul said, “I don’t think she wanted you to worry about her. Or Ronnie.”
“No,” I said. “She wanted to punish me. She wanted me to know I was being excluded from her life.”
“Don’t say that,” he said. His voice took on an edge. “Not now.”
“You know it’s true,” I said. “That’s how she is.” I caught myself, cleared my throat again before I spoke. “Was. Oh, Paul—I just didn’t think she would ever die. I didn’t think it was possible for her to die.” I wiped at my eyes again. “First Dad… now Mom. I’m not ready for this.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you to make you upset,” he said. “I told you so you’d know. If the police ask. And they probably will ask.”
“This is all so much,” I said. “Too much.”
I walked around the room, but I didn’t know where I was going. The room felt small and cramped, like an aquarium filling with water.
Mom is gone. I felt empty and full of emotion at the same time. I didn’t know what to think or do.
“Will you stay here tonight?” I asked. “With Ronnie? Will you?”
Paul didn’t offer the immediate agreement I had come to expect from him. He stumbled over his response.
“Stay here?” he asked.
“I don’t think I can,” I said.
Then I understood his hesitation. He didn’t want to stay there either. Not in the house where his sister had died.
“I don’t think—”
I cut him off. “You don’t have to,” I said. “I can.”
“No, it’s just… I guess I don’t want to wake Ronnie up and bring him to my place.”
“It’s weird for you too,” I said. “Forget about it. I’ll stay.”
“No,” he said, his voice firm now. He nodded his head. “I’ll stay. You go take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll be here.” He turned and opened the bedroom door. He left the space as quickly as I wanted to. “I’ll sleep out here. On the couch.”
Chapter Five