Chapter Four #3
Remi and his mother didn’t get along. He felt like he could never get anything right or make her happy, and when he stopped trying, it only further eroded their relationship.
Emerson was her golden child. He could do no wrong, so when Remi had fucked up—and he always did—Emerson would side with their mother. He’d always been quick to remind Remi of all the ways he was a screw-up.
“I’ve called you several times, Remington,” she said. “You haven’t returned any of my voicemails.”
Remi bit back a sigh. “I’m sorry about that. What’s up?”
“What’s up?” she mocked. “What’s up? Does something need to be up for me to hear from my son? Is that anyway to speak to the mother who raised you and worked her ass off so you had food on the table?”
Remi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his tongue into his bottom lip. “I meant, what’s up like how are you, what’s going on with you, what’s new.”
“Well then, just say that, Remington, honestly.” She sighed, and somehow, she’d put twenty-five years of disappointment into that single sound.
“What’s up is that Darrell said the new police station is doing a fundraiser to raise money for an expansion.
They are selling bricks that can be memorialized, and we think it’d be a good idea to get one for Emerson. ”
“Okay,” Remi said, forcing cheer at the awful idea. He had zero interest in expanding the police station, and he shuddered at the thought it’d be done in his brother’s name, but he knew better than to voice any opinion that went against his mother’s latest boyfriend’s great idea.
“It would be a nice thing, Remington,” his mother said, hearing through his fake upbeat tone. “To remember your brother. He was such a good boy.”
“Right. Yes. That is nice,” he agreed, digging his fingernails into his palm.
“So since you think it’d be nice, you should send me the five-hundred-dollar donation so I can get the brick.”
“I don’t have five hundred—”
“It’s for your brother!” she interrupted. “So what? You’ll have to go without beer and pot for a few weeks? It’s the least you can do. Honestly, with the way you treated him growing up, you should buy him ten bricks!”
“Mom,” Remi said, “I really don’t have any money. Like any. I…I lost my job today and—”
“You lost your job? Again? Remington, when are you going to grow up? Your brother is gone, and you’re wasting your life. Do you know how that makes me feel? To be the mother of a dead child and a deadbeat.”
She sniffed. “But what should I expect? You’re just like your father.
You can’t even afford to buy a brick to memorialize your brother.
You really shouldn’t be so selfish, Remi.
My therapist said it was important to find healthy ways to remember Emerson.
This would help me process the grief of losing my boy. ”
Remi sucked on his lip ring as the familiar sinking feeling in his gut threatened to harden him to his mother’s pleas. He wanted to snap at her, but he bit his tongue.
After Emerson died, Remi told himself that he’d treat his mother better.
They didn’t get along, but she was a good mother.
She always took them to doctor appointments and made sure they got to school on time.
They never went without food or new clothes for school.
Sure, sometimes she’d give him a slap or two when he wasn’t behaving, but it wasn’t like she abused them.
He had no reason to hate her. He needed to be better.
For Emerson. His brother would have wanted Remi to take care of their mother.
And if this brick was going to make her feel better, he needed to make it happen.
“Okay,” Remi said. He shifted and dug his wallet out of his pocket. “I’ll give you my credit card number, but don’t charge it until after the fifteenth, okay?”
That’d give him a full twenty-five days to come up with the money to pay it off.
“Oh, good. That’s really the least you owe Emerson,” she said.
“Uh huh,” Remi mumbled and then read out his credit card number.
His mother ended the call shortly after that. Heaviness settled on his chest, making it hard for him to inhale completely.
He stared at the ripped-up notebook pages where he’d arranged and rearranged show dates, trying to figure out a tour schedule that wouldn’t bankrupt them.
Anger that he’d beaten down resurfaced. He groaned in hopeless frustration and swiped his hand through the papers, making them flutter to the floor.
Standing, he crossed the room, dumped out his trash can, and plucked the business card from the pile.
His heart raced. A wave of vertigo made his body sway. He was standing at the edge of a cliff, having made the decision to jump.
His mother was right about one thing. He owed Emerson a lot more than a goddamn brick. He owed a lot of people more than he could give them. It was his fault Tilted Haze lost their first big break. Remi owed this to the band.
Desperation made his fingers tremble as he tapped out the phone number.
He put the phone to his ear as the call connected.
“Hello, Remi,” Skye purred. He gritted his teeth against the way her voice made him shiver.
“You win,” he growled. “I’ll make the deal.”