Savage Pride

24

I peer around the corner at where she sits perched on the edge of a sofa cushion, her small body forlornly curved in on itself with her head dropped back, eyes cast skyward. She looks despondent, but it only makes me angry. I hate that she’s the reason Gia can’t move on with her life. If my mother could get her s**t together, maybe she could have been a real mom and not leave that for her eldest daughter to take on. The daughter she’d never meant to have. “What was that all about?” My voice is a deadly blade slicing through her moment of self-pity. Mom shoots upright, her face sculpted in innocence. “Hey, Lulu. I didn’t realize you were down here.” Obviously. “What was the call about, Mom? It have anything to do with why you’ve been selling things?” I’m not letting her leave this living room until she tells me the truth. She stands and waves a hand at me as though I’m being silly for asking questions. “It’s nothing. I borrowed a little money from a friend, and she needs it back sooner than I expected.” “How much?” “How much what?” “Jesus, Mom! Don’t be difficult. How much damn money do you owe?” I want to smack the wide-eyed look right off her face. It’s an act, and it’s wasted on me. Like any animal being forced into a cage, she lashes out. “Don’t act all high and mighty around me. Just because you’re getting some fancy degree doesn’t make you better than us.” “And you’re not going to redirect this conversation. Tell. Me. What. You. Owe.” Her lips purse and eyes narrow as she studies me, weighing her next move. My inflexibility on the matter must register because her chin lifts defiantly in preparation for her surrender. “Originally, it was fifteen, but I paid off five, so now it’s down to ten.” She straightens a stack of magazines nonchalantly on the coffee table as if she’s just told me about tomorrow’s breakfast options rather than unloaded a financial bomb in our living room. “Are you talking … thousands?” My mind is utterly blown. “You owe ten thousand dollars to someone?” How does that even happen? They don’t pay a mortgage or rent. Three of their daughters are grown and should be independent. They have one car between them and never travel. Had Mom racked up ten grand in debt from merely buying s**t? My legs want to give out, but I have the upper hand and refuse to hand it over to her by looking weak. “You never worried about my finances before, so there’s no reason to start now. You’ll go back to the city and your fancy life in a few days, so it’s not your problem anyway. Forget about it.” I want to listen to her. I don’t want to make this my problem, but I have to. Something about the way she panicked worries me. Mom gets herself into all kinds of predicaments and always brushes them off. This is different. Something about this debt has Mom worried. “Who lent you the money?” This time my words are eerily soft. I know I’ve hit the crux of the problem when her lip trembles. She slowly sits down on the sofa, her eyes intently studying her fingers as they fiddle with a hole in her leggings. There is a sincerity to her actions, but it won’t gain my sympathy. Whatever mess she’s in, she got herself there. I may assure her and even help her, but I won’t feel sorry for her. “His name is Aldo Consoli. He’s … he’s a bookie. I make a bet here and there, nothing major. I gave it a try one time because there was this Fendi purse I really wanted, but I knew we could never afford it. I figured, what does it hurt to chance a couple of hundred on a bet? Instead of buying a crap purse I didn’t want with the money, I’d use it to at least try to get the bag I wanted. And I did it—I made five grand from nothing. It’s the most incredible feeling, Isa, like winning the lottery. I got the purse then made a couple more bets with the rest of the money. I won three more grand and felt like I was on top of the world, but then I had a bit of a dry spell. Things didn’t go so well for my next few bets, but a race was coming up that I felt great about. I knew that would get me back in the money. I felt so good about it … I still don’t know what went wrong. One minute, I was swimming in cash, and the next, I was fifteen k in the hole.” A bookie. There never was a friend. She owes money to a bookie. f**k. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. This is so much worse than I assumed. Ten grand is a lot, but ten grand to a bookie is serious trouble. My stomach churned into an angry knot as her explanation unfolded, and now, there’s a real chance I might vomit. “This … Aldo—he’s associated with the family, isn’t he?” She nods, and I have to keep myself from lunging at her and wrapping my straining fingers around her throat. When someone on the street doesn’t pay their bookie, they can end up dead, but Mom is technically a part of the family—she’s protected as Dad’s wife—but that means Dad assumes her debt. They won’t kill a member of the family over a debt, but they could easily rough him up. And maybe even worse, he’d be disgraced forever. As if not advancing past soldier at his age wasn’t bad enough, my dad would be labeled a deadbeat. “Does Dad know?” “No, and he doesn’t have to.” She jumps up and rushes over to me. “I’ll find a way to pay it off. I’ll … I don’t know, but I’ll find a way.” “How, Mom? How the hell are you going to come up with ten grand in a week without Dad knowing?” Her brows knit together as she chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t know, Lulu.” Her helpless whisper claws at my skin. I’m so angry I could scream. “Don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that again.” Lulu has always been my father’s nickname for me. That’s how Gia pronounced my name when I was born, but it became my dad’s term of endearment for me. I don’t want her tainting something so special. “This conversation isn’t over, but I’m going to bed. I can’t deal with this right now.” I’ve had more than I can take for one day. I leave the room without waiting for a reply. There’s nothing for her to say. When I finally make it upstairs, Gia is already in bed, sleeping peacefully. I envy her. Sleep won’t come easily for me tonight. Needing to at least try to relax the tension now coiled in my muscles, I take a hot shower. The heat soothes my body, but it does little to wash away my fears. I can’t bear to let my dad suffer such a disgrace. The thought alone sends a bolt of searing pain through my chest. He’s only ever done what he thought was best for his family; he doesn’t deserve to be humiliated, no matter what the family code of honor says. It’s not his fault my mother is irresponsible and selfish.