Page 74 of Gambler's Fallacy

“Not until this TV stand is in place, so I don’t have to sit on the floor to play video games,” I complain. “Although if we want to screw, you two can help me with?—”

My phone rings with the distinct ringtone I’ve set for my mother. I curse and drop the screws, reaching into my pocket to answer the call.

“Mamá?” I ask. “What’s up?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, then she says, “Can’t I call to hear your voice?”

I glance over at Vortex and Seven, then walk into my bedroom and shut the door. “You can. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” she answers, and her voice cracks on the word. “I love you so much, Javi. You know that, right?”

“I do. And I love you too, Mamá.” The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. “Is everything all right? Do you need me to come over?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.” She sighs. “I burnt myself while cooking the other day, that’s all. It’s already all patched up, but if you were here I’d ask you to help me in the kitchen. It hurts to use the arm too much.”

The blood freezes inside me.

“How did you burn yourself?” I ask.

“I was clumsy. You know how I am,” my mother answers.

Yeah, I know. I know that the Step Asshole trips her, or startles her, or throws things at her—when he isn’t outright hitting her.

“If it hurts to use the arm, make the Step—make Marcus help you,” I point out. “He can reach all the stuff.”

The pots and pans he’d put in the highestcabinets, so that my mother would have to ask for assistance anytime she wanted anything. At our old place, before we’d moved in with him, those had all been in the lower cabinets.

“No, I don’t want to bother him. He’s having a hard time at work lately. There’s a new supervisor…” my mother says, and I can feel the rage boiling over.

“He’s stressed? So fucking what? We’re all stressed, Mamá. That doesn’t give him the right to do any of that shit to you,” I growl, and I hate how angry I sound, I hate that I can’t keep it together for her. “I’ve got extra space at my apartment. You can come stay with me. I’ll let you take my mattress, and I’ll cook for you, and I have everything within easy reach?—”

“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” she says, far quieter. “You need your own life, mijo. How will you get a girlfriend if you live with your mother?”

“The same way every other man gets a lover!” I shout back. “If my future lover can’t handle the fact that I want to take care of you, then I don’t want them.”

There’s a long silence, before she answers, “You don’t need to yell. I’m not a child, and you don’t need to take care of me.”

I let out a frustrated sound. “He’s abusing you! You know that, I know that, the corrupt cops know that! Just let me help you!”

“Don’t use that word,” she says, angry now. “I’m not being abused, Javier. I think I’d know if I was being abused. Marcus isn’t like that. He’s sweet. He brought me roses the other day, and he says we’ll take a vacation next month.”

“He’s not going to take you anywhere,” I snap. “He never does. And he brought you roses so you’d forget that he burned you with the pan, or whatever the fuck he did to injure you!”

“I told you, that was my own fault,” she says defensively. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother calling. You’re so judgmental.”

“Yes, Mamá, why did you call?” I clutch the phone tighter. “You wanted me to know he hurt you, but you don’t want me to help you? What am I supposed to do?”

“You really need to work on your temper,” she says hotly. “Maybe that’s why women don’t date you.”

“I don’t fucking care about women!” I shout back—and then I hang up on her, because I can’t fucking deal with this.

If I thought it would work, I would kidnap her and force her to stay with me. But I know she’d run right back to him, and somehow it would all be my fault.

I let out a frustrated howl and kick the mattress. Better than punching the wall and messing up the paint job.

I storm outside again, and of course Vortex and Seven are both looking at me with wide eyes.

“What’s your problem?” I snap at them.

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