Chapter 2 - The Golden Boy’s House of Cards
By the time the police cleared the garage and the paramedics finally convinced me to go to Urgent Care for a precautionary X-ray of my cracked ribs, my phone had turned into a vibrating, frantic lifeline of betrayal.
Twenty-seven missed calls.
All of them from Trevor.
I sat in the sterile examination room, the paper beneath me crackling as the nurse finished wrapping a supportive elastic band around my bruised torso. My phone lit up again. Trevor. I stared at the screen, watching his name flash insistently. For my entire life, Trevor’s existence had been subsidized by my exhaustion. If he wrecked a car, I helped pay the deductible. If he lost an apartment, I lied to my landlord so he could crash on my couch for "just a few days" that inevitably turned into months.
I swiped to answer and put him on speaker.
"Andrea! What the hell is going on?" Trevor’s voice screamed through the receiver, breathless and panicked. "Mom and Dad aren't answering their phones! A neighbor said she saw police cars at Dad's house, and some guy from the precinct called me saying Dad is facing felony assault charges! Did you do this?"
I let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Hello to you too, Trevor. And yes, I did."
"Are you insane?!" he shrieked, the sound of a video game abruptly pausing in the background. "That’s our father! What did you do to make him snap like that? You always push him! You’ve always been selfish and ungrateful!"
"He beat me beside my car, Trevor," I said, my voice dropping an octave, carrying an edge of absolute steel that made him stutter. "He fractured my ribs, broke my badge, and left me bleeding on the concrete because I told you that you couldn't move into my apartment."
There was a tense, heavy silence on the line. For a fraction of a second, I wondered if human decency would break through his self-absorbed panic.
"Well... I mean... you could have just let me stay for a couple of weeks!" Trevor whined, completely unfazed by the fact that our father had violently assaulted me. "Now where am I supposed to go? My landlord is locking me out tomorrow morning! I have nowhere to live, Andrea! You ruined everything!"
I didn't feel anger anymore. I felt a profound, liberating pity.
"Figure it out, Trevor," I told him calmly. "You're twenty-eight years old. Get a job. Pay your own rent. Because Mom and Dad aren't going to bail you out anymore. Their assets are about to be tied up in criminal defense fees and civil lawsuits."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm cutting you off," I said. "And if you ever come near my apartment, I won't hesitate to file a restraining order against you too."
"You can't do this!" he screamed. "I'm your brother! You owe me!"
I hung up the phone, blocked his number, and then blocked our parents' numbers for good measure.
May you like
The nurse walked back into the exam room, offering a sympathetic smile. "You okay, honey?"
"I'm better than okay," I replied, sliding my phone into my pocket. "I'm finally free."
