in the kitchen rummaging through the fridge when I entered. He saw me come in and slammed the door shut.
“Why is there never any damn food in here?” he asked, tone hostile.
“Good morning to you, too.”
He rolled his eyes and moved to the cabinets, ignoring my greeting.
I was determined not to pick a fight with him. It was just so much easier to let it be. “I think there’s some cereal in the cupboard.”
“Yeah, but no milk to go with it.”
I sighed. “Sorry.”
My fifteen-year-old brother was going through the phase of puberty that left him in a perpetually bad mood.
If he wasn’t locked up in his room playing rap music loudly enough to shake the rafters and piss off our neighbors, then he was stalking around the apartment and making sarcastic commentary about how everything in our life sucked.
But a big part of me felt bad for him so I tried to let everything but the most egregious stuff slide. It wasn’t fair that there were always more mouths to feed than food to go around. It wasn’t fair that Momma was sick and couldn’t work. And it definitely wasn’t fair that a boy was expected to step up and be man of the house.
My sympathy over how hard things had been for him was the reason I hadn’t made him take the job washing dishes at the diner that I knew I could get for him. Even if the extra income would really help out around the house. I wanted him to stay a kid for the little bit of time he had left, regardless of what it cost me.
Luis slammed another cabinet closed. “You’re going grocery shopping today, right?”
“I’m not going to have time.” I said, hoping that would placate him. “I’ll bring something home from the diner tonight.”
“I don’t want to eat that nasty shit.” He kicked one of the chairs out from under the kitchen table and slumped into it. “Give me some money and I’ll go to the store.”
I knew that anything I gave Luis would be solely for his own benefit. He was as likely to use the money for grocery shopping as he was to drop it in the collection plate at the Episcopal church down the street. Meaning: not at all.
But at least it would get him out of the house so Momma wouldn’t have to spend the day dealing with his sour attitude. And if I gave him the cash, he’d be less likely to go out and steal the things he wanted with that group of degenerates he called his friends.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to soothe a sudden headache. “Twenty dollars, but just for food.”
“Whatever.”
I pulled a crumpled bill out of the pocket of my pants and handed it to him. Luis grabbed it without bothering to thank me, stomped back to his room and slammed the door closed behind him.
Ignore it , I told myself. Starting a fight wouldn’t make things easier for any of us. I was about to be late for work anyway.
One night, in exchange $1000.
I firmly pushed thoughts of the Dollhouse away. This was my life and nothing was going to change it. They clearly didn’t want me back and, in the long run, I was probably better off. There was no room in my life for obsessive desire. The sooner I could forget about it completely, the better.
* * *
I t was a slow day at the diner.
I stood behind the counter, topping off ketchup bottles and surveying the expanse of empty tables. I had a woman taking up one of my booths so she could read the newspaper and sip on free refills of coffee without ordering food and a man at the counter who’d spent more time looking at my ass than he had at the menu. Otherwise, my section was crickets.
“Why you look so down, baby girl?”
Miranda, an older woman who’d been working at the diner almost as long as I’d been alive and one of my favorite people to work with, slid up next to me.
“No reason, just ruminating on the joys of working for free.” I said, giving her a weak smile.
“Thems the breaks when you work for tips.” She picked up a rag and started wiping down the bottles that I had already filled so I could cap