“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he says. “Just hold on and let’s talk about this.”
“Four…” I count.
“Wh
at are you going to do?” he asks. “You going to literally throw me out of the house?”
“Three…” I count.
“The cops?” he asks. “You’re not actually saying you’d call the cops if I don’t—”
“Two…” I count.
“Do you have any idea what we could do with that kind of money?” he asks.
“One,” I count and take a step toward him.
“All right!” he cries. “I’ll give up the money, but I’m not paying rent. You’ve kind of just poached my nest egg there.”
“That’s fine,” I tell him. “First thing I want you to do is start looking at therapists.”
“You said I didn’t have to do that if I gave up the money,” he says. “I’m giving up the money. How am I supposed to pay for a therapist?”
“I’ll take care of it,” I tell him.
I have no idea where I’m going to get the money to cover someone else’s therapy, but I’ve got a very small window here, and I’m not going to let it close without doing everything in my power to get my brother to stop swindling people.
“I’ve been to therapists before,” he says. “You know that. Why do you think this time’s going to be different?”
“I don’t,” I tell him. “I just hope that it is.”
“You really think some shrink’s going to make me not want to work?”[17] he asks. “I really don’t think it’s a psychological issue.”
“Maybe it won’t do anything,” I tell him. “Maybe it will. I don’t know. It’s one of my requirements, though. I need to know that you’re making a real and honest effort.”
“I’m not going to any Freudians,” he says. “They’re all about Oedipus complexes and penis envy. It freaks me out.”
“As long as you’re going, I don’t care whose philosophy your therapist subscribes to,” I tell him. Remembering my brother’s unique way of twisting just about everything I’ve ever said, I decide to be more specific, saying, “It has to be a real therapist, though.”
“Who’s to say who’s a real therapist and who’s not?” Chris asks.
“I think that would be the American Psychological Association,” I tell him.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll give up an hour a week if it’ll get you off my back, but I’m going to need something in return for all that money I’m giving up for you.”
“You’re not giving it up for me and it’s not your money,” I tell him. “I will let you stay here rent free for the first month, and after that, I expect you to have a job—a real, normal person job. We can figure out how much is going to be fair with rent after that.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask,” he says.
“Yeah, but I know you,” I tell him. “I’m not going to give up anything more than I’m already giving for this. If you don’t like the deal, there’s the door.”
He looks at me, then at the door and then back at me.
“Just know,” I tell him, “you walk out that door now, and I don’t ever want to see your face again, you understand me? You walk out that door and show up again, I call the cops. You walk out that door and I run into you out in public, I call the cops. You walk out that door now,” I tell him, “and we are done.”
“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” Chris says.
“Call it what you want,” I tell him. “If you don’t believe I mean what I’m saying, just try me. Go ahead,” I tell him. “There’s the door.”