Page 23 of Five Brothers

“We don’t know for sure that they weren’t,” she replies too assuredly for a five-year-old. “No one is actually sure what they looked like, just made guesses based off nutrients they found in the bones and other things like climate and vegetation at the time.”

She goes to a really good school.

I kiss her head. “Touché.”

She continues drawing, and I ask Bateman, “Is she upstairs?”

He nods, his eyes flashing toward the ceiling.

I grab my phone and head up the staircase, that job at Mariette’s feeling like heaven right now.

I scroll through my notifications as I head up, spotting a few pictures of Liv and Clay at breakfast this morning. I smile. Liv’s intown. I didn’t expect her back before the holidays. She went up north to Dartmouth for college. Clay loves her to death, but it’s really fucking cold up there, so Clay stayed home for school.

But I think the real reason is that she’s reconnecting with her parents. Years ago, they lost her younger brother to leukemia. Now they’re divorcing, but it’s only made all of them closer. She doesn’t want to lose that.

And I also see a follow request from Jerome Watson.

I close my eyes, exiting out of social media.

I pass my brother’s closed door and stop at the doorway of my mom’s bedroom as she comes out of her bathroom, dressed in a pretty white dress with short sleeves, a square neckline, and a tight fit around her body.

It’s mine.

She pops her head up, carrying some toiletries to an overnight bag. I guess she plans on being gone tonight, too.

“Oh, you’re here,” she chirps. “Good. Sit down.”

I shuffle to the chair at her vanity, seeing all her jewelry in a pile on top. What is she doing?

“I’m taking your brother to church,” she tells me. “You come, too.”

She hasn’t attended since my father left nearly a year ago. She wanted to avoid the stares and fake sympathy. I know why she’s going now.

Jerome Watson will be there.

“Why don’t you marry him?” I ask her.

At forty years old, she’s only eight years older than him. They’re closer in age than he and I are.

“Because I’m not having any more kids,” she retorts.

And I’m certainly not having any anytime soon, either. “I’m not going to church. And I’m not accepting his friend request, so you can stop encouraging him.”

She zips up the leather satchel, removes her glasses, and walksover, reaching around me to get her perfume. “He will make sure your brother and sister stay with me instead of your father and that paid-for piece of ass,” she bites out, not missing a beat. “He will make sure I don’t grow old in some assisted-living center surrounded by early bird specials and denture cream. He will secure the lifestyle you’ve always known. You’ll have everything, Krisjen.” She peers down at me, spraying a shot of Guerlain, and cocking an eyebrow. “You’re coming to church, and he’s going to bring you home. You may stop off for lunch, and then later in the week, you’ll invite him over for a barbecue, where you’ll laugh and play with your brother and sister and show him what a good girl you are before you present him with those caramelized onion, roast beef, and goat cheese focaccias you make so well.”

She leans down, planting her hands on my armrests. I turn away as she gets in my face.

“Then you’ll move on to a few dinners, where I will let him bring you home later and later and your dresses will get tighter and shorter, and then, finally, I will let you know when it’s time to let him seduce you, because he’s going to want a test-drive before he commits.”

I fold my lips between my teeth to keep my chin from shaking.

“You’re going to do what you have to, and you’re going to blow his mind, do you understand?”

I swallow hard. I refuse to give her a fight.

“Now, I’m not crazy,” she states. “I know I sound horrible, and when I was your age, I probably would’ve wanted to kill my mother for saying the things I’m saying to you, but that ‘follow your heart and persevere’ bullshit rarely works for most of us. You have to grow up and fuck people you don’t want to fuck, because there is one thing that’s worse on this planet, and that’s being poor. I guarantee, no matter how much you hate him, you’re going to hate Paisleigh growing up in the Vista View Apartments a lot more. We need you, do you understand?”

Fuck …

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