Page 19 of Movers and Shakers

Tom, my older brother, was there first. But as usual, he was talking about Murray and Sons with Dad.

Out of all of us, Tom was the only one who’d been what our father wanted. He was his right-hand man and the sole one out of the three of us who worked in that glass tower that was the family business. When I first opened the bar, I wondered what Tom would think of it.

And he never said a word.

But I didn’t expect him to. When he wasn’t working, he was drinking—up until my sister and I told him he had an addiction. After that, we all hadn’t talked at all, other than these family dinners.

Some days, I didn’t know why I was here. I didn’t have to see any of them, but whenever I thought about storming outfor the final time, I would remember the last night we felt like real siblings. There had been a tornado and Tom protected us. I didn’t remember much of it, but I recalled him hugging us close, being there in ways Mom and Dad weren’t.

I wondered where that boy had gone.

Walking into the kitchen, I readied myself for the lecture I’d get from Mom about my lack of a college education. Sometimes, I’d wait for Ruth to get here so she could take over and hear about how much Mom wanted her promoted. Sometimes, Mom even compared the two of us, pitting us against each other to get us to do what they wanted.

But that trick hadn’t worked in years. At least not on me.

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your life in abarof all things rather than owning up to your maximum potential,” Mom said.

Damn it.Where was Ruth?

“Because I don’t want to work all hours of the day to beyouridea of my maximum potential. I want to be happy.”

“Don’t you want a better life for yourself?” She shook her head. “Stability? Regular paychecks? Insurance?”

“I have all those things.”

“From abar,” she insisted. “Don’t you want something more than that?”

“I’m happy where I’m at,” I said. “I always will be.”

“You sound so much like—‍” She stopped, closing her eyes.

“So much like who?”

Her lips pressed together, and for once, I eagerly awaited her answer. But then Ruth walked in and the conversation shifted to her. The exchange stuck in my mind. Just who did I remind her of?

“I know I’m coming up on twelve months,” Ruth said, sighing. “I know I need to get promoted.”

And she would try. Ruth worked her ass off, probably more than Tom. She worked at some banking company that I didn’tcare to know the name of, in a high-level position, making either close to or more than six figures with her salary. She’d done it all without her family name carrying her, something that Tom couldn’t claim. Out of all of us, she was the most impressive and hardest working.

I would never get why they didn’t see that.

Mom didn’t let up, even as both of us got tired.

It didn’t get better at the dinner table, either. Dad joined in on the questions, and even though Tom made a half-assed effort to try to take the heat off us, nothing would work.

I left dinner annoyed and having not said anything to Ruth or Tom without our parents present. I knew my life wasn’t conventional, but I was happy. I got to sing on my stage and manage one of the best bars in Nashville. I always said I wouldn’t come back when I was alone in my car.

Stay. For them.

I always told that voice to fuck off. I’d wasted my youth fighting for my siblings. I’d lost my chance to pursue music instead of the bar because I was still hanging around, hoping they’d do something other than what was expected.

And here we were, never changing.

I didn’t even know if Ruth had friends or if Tom would stay sober. My siblings had never been to the bar since I opened it. They’d never heard me play guitar. Sometimes, I wondered if they even cared. Maybe they were destined to turn out like Dad.

Once, a long time ago, I finally put down my foot and didn’t come to the family dinners. They were desperate for me to return, and I did. For some fucking reason, I did.

Iwantedthem to know something about me. I hoped they would aspire to be more than Dad’s little minions, and then they’d see they could have more. That little shred of hope inched closer to death each week.

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