Page 46 of Fraud
Fucking time change was kicking my ass.
“Hold up, I’m not done with you yet.”
Sitting up, I tried to keep my eyes from closing. “What else do you want? You’ve already raided my bank account, and you’re living in my apartment. Do you want to borrow my clothes now, too?”
“Hell no,” he replied. “I’d rather walk around the city naked than put on your shitty excuse for style.”
I shook my head. I’d almost forgotten what a stuck-up snob my brother was when it came to fashion. “Right, I forgot. You’ll just take my money and buy your own stuff.”
He didn’t have a flashy comeback for that one.
“Look,” he finally said, “there’s a reason I called.”
I waited.
“Do you even remember what today is?” he asked hesitantly.
I pulled my cell phone away from my ear, checking the screen for the date.
Shit.
“No,” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Liam. I completely forgot.”
Silence followed before he spoke, “I figured.”
My fingers slowly massaged my aching forehead. “You’ll put flowers on her grave?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Have you been visiting Dad?”
“Every week.”
“Good. Is he—”
“Any better? No. He has dementia. He’s not going to get better.”
I nodded, knowing he couldn’t see me. “Right. I know.”
“You could still come and see him though.”
“I will,” I promised.
But both of us knew it was a lie.
A lie I’d been using since the day my father entered that nursing home.
My brother might be a moocher, but out of the two of us, he was the better son.
The loving son.
The one who always remembered. The one who put flowers on our mother’s grave, even after my father stopped remembering.
And me?
I was the opposite.
Nothing but an asshole, through and through.
