Every Day (Brush of Love 2)

“Well, that’s Drew’s decision. If he wants to scar the people of this city further with that mess he put on your body, that’s his prerogative,” my mother said.

“It won’t be as lucrative as what he’s doing now,” my father said, “but some people don’t want greatness.”

“I know, Dad. Heaven forbid they actually want to be happy,” I said.

“You should really heed your father’s advice,” my mother said. “Liquidating and investing the money would be a much more substantial way to spend your time. It’ll also help you build your financial future. If you wanted, we could set you up with—”

“I don’t need help liquidating a business I have no intention of liquidating. If anything, I’ll be liquidating Drew’s share of the company, so he can open his tattoo parlor without going into debt,” I said.

“You mean you actually support this venture of his?” my mother asked. “Isn’t he your friend or something? You should be advising him otherwise.”

I sat back in my chair and started wondering why the hell I even continued to try. After the encounter we had last time, I figured I would never see them again. Yet here we were, going around and around the way we usually did where my parents insulted anything and everything about my life and those I loved, and in the process, they expected me to hop on board with what they were saying.

All of it.

“You know, you guys were never like this before you had money,” I said, snickering.

“Like what?” my mother asked.

“He’s about to get dramatic again, Dorothy. Hang on,” my father said.

I felt every single rubber band of patience snap in my gut as I slowly panned my eyes toward my father. He straightened his back as my mother braced herself for what was to come.

But nothing they could’ve done would’ve prepared them for where I was going.

“I’m embarrassed to call you my parents,” I said.

“Excuse me?” my father asked.

“I’m embarrassed and ashamed of t

he two of you,” I said. “I come here twice a month and listen to the two of you berate and spit all over the life I’ve created for myself, and that’s somehow supposed to garner you favor with me? Are you fucking serious?”

“Watch your—”

“I won’t watch anything,” I said. “I grew up in this home just as much as you live in it. I roamed the halls with a brother who became a hero, even though his own fucking parents are determined to throw him under the damn bus.”

I could see the tears rising in my mother’s eyes, but I no longer cared.

“Before we had money, the two of you loved. You lived life, and you saw the beauty in things, and you experienced it instead of merely walking through it. But the moment you made your first twenty million, Dad, it all went to shit. All the two of you did was stick us with the nanny while you gallivanted off to parties and stumbled in drunk. You stopped supporting things, and you merely started sending checks, thinking your money was enough,” I said.

“One day, should you ever become lucky enough to be a parent, you’ll realize that you’re more than just a parent. Your father and I deserved those parties. We deserved getting away from how rough it was raising two boys like you and John,” my mother said.

“But you were parents when you wanted to rip his art away when you thought he was delving into something you thought wasn’t productive. You didn’t want to steer him toward a career or anything, but you sure as hell were set on ripping his one piece of happiness away from him.”

“That’s enough,” my father asked.

“No. For years the two of you have had your say, but don’t worry. This’ll be the last time I’ll come back to this house.”

“What?” my mother asked breathlessly.

“If you don’t want to acknowledge the fucking hero your son was, fine. That’s not my problem that you simply don’t want to accept your hand in John’s death. That’s cool. But now what you’re doing is overcompensating. You’re pushing me toward a path you think I should be on because you think that’s what you did wrong. You think not pushing John toward a fucking job is what killed him, but do you know what actually killed him?” I asked.

My parents stayed silent as their wide eyes were hooked onto me.

“Your inability to see anything beyond the scope of your fucking wallet.”

I grabbed my coat from off my chair and headed for the door. I could hear my mother crying as my father flew up from the table, and in that instant, I was whipped around and staring eye-to-eye with the man I’d once respected and looked up to.