Andrew Gross - Everything to Lose

“Brandon?” He actually sat up and seemed concerned.

“No, Brandon’s fine. He’s doing multiplication and division now. Everything’s going real well. And you should see his artwork. He’s doing amazing things, Jim. I think he’s got a real talent.”

“That’s really good. I know I should come and see it. I mean to. It’s just I’m always—”

“Look—I know he’s not exactly the son you’ve always wanted. He’s not exactly someone you can take boogie boarding at the beach or out to the driving range like Lucas and Trey. Though God knows he does try. But now I need some help, Jim. I don’t know if I can cover the costs any longer. At Milton Farms. I’m four months behind in tuition and next year is coming up. I can’t keep going back to Neil and Judy. They’re getting on. Dad’s starting to go downhill. They survived the storm okay, but they’re underwater on a couple of big boats. They kind of zigged when the rest of the world zagged …”

“Guess I know how what feels like,” he said with a glum smile.

“Anyway, they’re gonna be needing whatever they have for themselves. And you’re Brandon’s father, for God’s sake—” I gazed around.

Jim’s eyes drooped guiltily and he sat back, the cat out of the bag now, as if it was ever really in. “I’m sorry about Neil. No one likes to hear that.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that. My dad always liked you.”

He folded his thick fingers in front of his face. “You know I had to close up Double Eagle, don’t you, Hil?”

Double Eagle was his construction business. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry, Jim.”

“I was gonna call you about it. Then I figured, hell … you’d probably just think I was trying to wriggle out of another check.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that. I know that company was a big part of you.”

I thought back to those early years when he was making three, four hundred grand a house, several times a year, much of which long ago went down the drain in the financial meltdown, the houses sold at a loss or borrowed up to the hilt against. “But, Jim—look at how you live. I need some help now. You can’t hide behind that anymore.”

His toothy smile turned downward. “I don’t have to tell you the story here, do I, Hil …? Look, I understand how most of this has always fallen on you. I know you’ve had to change your life. And, no BS here, I admire you for what you’ve done. I do. It’s just that right now … you’re bringing in a helluva lot more than me.” He snorted cynically. “Right now the UPS man is bringing in a helluva lot more than me.”

“Well, as of the other day”—I fixed my eyes on him— “that’s all changed.”

“What do you mean, changed?”

I told him about Cesta and Steve having to cut things back. That I basically got four weeks’ salary and a month on the health plan. “I’m behind on everything, Jim. We were basically living check to check the past year as it was. Now …”

He nodded, his mustache curling into a frown. “I’m really sorry, Hil. That sucks.”

“It does suck. But that doesn’t make anything go away. I’ve cut back on a hundred things over the past few years to keep everything together for Brandon and me. I hoped we had some equity still in the house, but there’s zero in the current market. I had it appraised. The whole thing’s underwater, which, let’s face it, is pretty much how you left me. And anyway, what would be the chance of refinancing now with no job even if there was something to pull out? I’ve been working full time, putting everything toward our son, while you’re what, zipping the kids off to squash practice in that new Porsche I saw outside …”

He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “That’s a little cold, don’t you think, Hilary?”

“No. No, it’s not cold, Jim. Look, I’m sorry … I know it’s hard to close the company. I know it’s like closing a chapter on yourself, an important one. I get that. But it was no picnic for me getting fired and seeing the past four years go up in smoke. My savings are shot, Jimmy. You’re Brandon’s father. This isn’t about my fucking shoe allowance or jetting down to St. Barth’s for my tan … Jim, I need you to stand up. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

I was trying to hold it together. Promising myself not to cry or let my emotions come through. But my eyes started to sting and there was no way of holding them back. “I can’t go it alone anymore. I tried.”

Jim reached over to the side table and pulled out a couple of tissues from a quilted Kleenex box. He handed them to me.

I dabbed at my eyes. “Thanks.”

“So how much we talking about?” he asked. He leaned back on the couch.

“I don’t know … The school alone is close to fifty grand. I’m so behind on the tuition plan they’re starting to give me calls. There’s still the mortgage and the taxes … Look, I see you have a new family and I’m happy for you. I am. But I have my family. And you’re his father, Jim. I’m going to do whatever I can to do what’s best for my son. Your son … Whatever that is.”

His gaze grew a little harder. “Just what do you mean by that, Hilary …?”

“I don’t know what I mean. I’m just asking you, please, don’t make me beg.”

We were kind of face-to-face, the tears cleared, my desperation out on the table. All of a sudden I could see what was turning through his mind. What must have been from the moment I called, because what other reason could there have been for me to ask to come over?

He’d have to go to Janice. He probably didn’t have a dime apart from her anymore.

He probably didn’t even own the Porsche parked in front of the house.

“Look. He cleared his throat. “Things aren’t exactly rosy around here either.”

“What does that mean, Jim?”

He shrugged. “Janice had to take a job. She’s gotten her real estate license. At Pepper Loughlin’s place. You know, it’s on the avenue, where that stationery place used to be …”

I stared blankly.

“In fact, the whole damn house is up for sale. Trust me, her divorce settlement is just about enough to keep the kids in school and take care of our nut. Even the furniture’s up for sale.” He nodded to Fu Manchu. “Distant cousin on the wall included. And the fancy table out front, what’s it called, Biedemeister, or meier? I never know. That as well.”

“Jim, you’re on your way out to Vail.”

“Kind of like our last hurrah.” He snorted. “I mean, you can’t let the kids think things are bad. Not in this town anyway. You know what I mean. I’m tapped out, Hilary. The well is totally dry. Trust me, that Porsche won’t even be in the driveway when we come back.”

I felt a weight crashing through my chest. An elevator falling. The thought snaked through me that if I stayed here even a minute longer, everything would come crashing down and I’d start to cry. “All I’m asking for is what you owe me. Don’t you even care about your son? Can’t you—”

Suddenly the boys ran in. Lucas and Trey, Christopher Alexander III. Like marauding outlaws in The Wild Bunch riding through a Mexican town, except with Brunswick crests on their dress shirts. “Trey won’t give me the Xbox stick,” Luke, who was ten, whined. “And he called me a douche. Didn’t you, Trey?”

“No, I didn’t! He’s lying! ” Trey said defiantly, with a glare that read, When we get back upstairs , you’re dead , you traitor.

“You know Hilary,” Jim said, catching Luke by the arm. “Brandon’s mom.”

“Hi,” Trey said, barely shifting his glare from his brother. “Douche bag,” he mouthed silently.