Page 121 of A Better World

“It’s not all your fault, though. Mom treats me the same way. Like I’m incompetent. You just did like she does.”

“Does she? I’m the one she’s hard on.”

“That’s because she thinks men can’t do anything. She goes easyon them. That’s why Dad gets away with so much. She thinks he’s a house with holes in its roof.”

Linda heard this, knew it was true. Hadn’t expected Hip to have guessed as much, which proved his point.

“Shit,” Josie said. “You might be right.”

“I am right,” Hip said. “I’m always right. It’s just nobody listens. It’s like when I talk in our family, all anybody hears is singing cats.”

“I listen.”

“You don’t,” he said. Then, softer, quivering, “It’s hard being in this family. It’s hard knowing what everyone thinks of you and those thoughts aren’t good. Dad hates himself. Like,hate. And he’s convinced we’re the same people. Mom pities him. She pities me. I’ve never understood why she’s stayed with someone she pities. Dad and I aren’t the same.”

“Oh, Hip,” Josie said. “Fuck them.”

“Easy for you. You’re the favorite.”

“I’ve never felt like the favorite.”

Linda heard a rustling. Saw in the shadows that Hip was draping his arm around her for a hug. The whispers got even softer. She strained but couldn’t hear. A few minutes later, a little louder, Josie said: “But why?”

“I don’t,” Hip said. “I mean, it’s fine. I can make myself like anything. I’m not like you. I can, you know, adapt.”

“I can adapt.”

“No. You can’t. But that’s okay. I like this place because Mom’s not sick here. That’s why Dad likes it, too. He told me.”

“What?”

“Don’t you remember? She was always coughing back home. She doesn’t cough anymore.”

“She coughed?”

“Do you notice anything except yourself?”

“Well, don’t get mean.”

“She coughed. She was always taking medicine. As soon as we got here, she was better. Remember she used to spend, like, a day out of every week in bed?”

“Right!” Josie said. “I forgot!”

“Yeah. That’s why I like PV.”

“I thought it was just Cathy.”

“I like Cathy, too. But I’m not stupid. I wasn’t doing universal tickets just because she told me. I was doing it for Mom.”

“That’s fucked up,” Josie said.

“Why? No it’s not.”

“No. I mean, it’s fucked up I never noticed she stopped coughing. I think it just became white noise for me, and then the white noise was gone.”

“You’re white noise,” he said.

There was more whispering that she couldn’t hear, and then Josie said, “I wouldn’t call it kidnapping. I’d call it a caper.”

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