Page 114 of Holding On

"Because she let you struggle. She knew you needed money and she didn't even offer to help." He looks at me, his expression pained. "Becca, why didn't you tell me you were living out of your car?"

When I revealed that at brunch I could tell how upset Mike was, but he hasn't asked me about it until now.

"It was just for a few weeks. It wasn't a big deal."

"It's a huge deal! You could've been killed! A pretty girl alone in a car at night? Some guy could've attacked you while you were sleeping." He shakes his head. "Why didn't you ask me for money?"

"You were already sending money."

"Obviously not enough." He scrubs his hand through his hair. "I can't believe you did that. What the hell you were thinking?"

"Okay, I got it. I don't need a lecture. I agree, it probably wasn't the smartest idea, but at the time I didn't know what else to do."

He sighs, his eyes going to mine. "Next time you need money, you tell your big brother."

"You don't—" I stop before I bring up the fact that he has no money.

"I know I don't have much, but whatever I have is yours if you need it. And that'll always be true. You just need to ask, okay?"

I nod.

"I'm going to try to get a job."

I look at him. "A job? You already have a job. Your blog. The podcast."

"A job that actually pays." He turns to me. "I can't keep doing this, Becca."

"Doing what?"

"Making you work to support me. It's wrong. I'm your big brother. If anything, I should be supporting you. You should be in school right now and I should be helping you pay for it."

"And I know you would if you were able to but you can't, so why are we even talking about this?"

"Because this needs to end. You can't keep working two jobs. It's too much. And I hate that you're not able to go out and have fun like other people your age because you're always working."

"Mike, you can't get a job. You're still recovering. The doctor said—"

"Yeah, the pain limits how much I can do but I could try to work part time."

"And be in pain all those hours?" I shake my head. "No. Forget it. You're not getting a job until you're better."

"Becca, if I don't start helping out around here, I'm no different than Mom. She should've helped you and she didn't, and now I'm doing the same thing. I'm just sitting here, letting you pay all the bills."

"It's not the same. You're injured. Mom wasn't. And it's not like I'll be supporting you forever. It's only temporary. When your paperwork is approved, you'll start getting checks and you'll be able to help out."

"The paperwork may take another six months to get approved. I don't want to wait that long."

"Then wait another two or three months and we'll talk about it then. For now, just focus on getting better."

He picks up Mom's check. "You think we should cash this? I know I said we shouldn't but we could really use the money."

"Then cash it. It doesn't mean we forgive her."

"Why don't we put it away for school? Then maybe you won't have to work when you go back."

"I'll still need a job. That check's not enough to cover tuition and living expenses. I need to save up more money before I go back."

"You shouldn't have to save up money," he says, his anger rising. "Mom should be paying for it. And you should be going to a better school, getting your four year degree, which you'd be doing if Mom had helped you."

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