Page 19 of Bobby Green
Reg took a deep breath, reached into the fridge, and pulled out the Rubbermaid container. “See? Not poisoned.” He ate the whole piece and reached in for another, but she snatched the container out of his hands.
“I’ll have carrots and potatoes too,” she snapped, and he pulled out a bag of carrots and walked to the sink to make her some potatoes. Her eating extra carbs was a worrying thing—the balance of meds she had right now usually limited her appetite. If she was skipping them, she might want extra potatoes.
“So,” he said casually, scrubbing potatoes the way she’d taught him to when they’d been kids, “you take your meds today?”
She crossed her arms and glared at him, her ratty pink cardigan falling loosely around her shoulders and sloppily down over her faded teddy bear pajama pants. She was wearing one of his high school gym shirts under the cardigan, and it screamed a garish green and black under the faded pink. She hadn’t brushed her hair in a few days, and the brown mess draggled down from a clip at her crown, a few of the strands a bright, corkscrewed gray.
“Yes,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “All of them. You want to count?”
He looked at her sideways, wondering how big a thing it would be if he counted them. He kept track in his phone after every count, and the date. He knew how many of each pill she should have, but letting her know he didn’t trust her could make things difficult.
“No,” he said. “But bring them out so I can see if we need a refill.”
“I can tell you,” she said, arms crossed defensively.
“I need to see,” he said, keeping his eyes open wide. “You know I can’t remember good if I hear. But if I see, I’ll figure it out and remember.” He was not, in fact, that bad—he’d know if she told him she only had five of the one and ten of the other. But she was trying to hide from him, and she knew how expensive the pills were, so she wouldn’t flush them down the toilet.
If she was going to be cunning, he could pretend to be stupid. It was a terrible game but one he’d been playing for eleven years, and the price he’d pay for losing would be dire.
“Fine. I’ll bring them down.” She glared at him, blue eyes that could be wide and ingenuous or narrow and plotting—it all depended on what the chemicals were doing in her brain. “But it’s not right. You’re just taking money from the doctors. Everything I’ve done for you, and you’re getting money from the doctors to give me pills. You know the doctors. They don’t like how smart I am. You’re taking their money to keep me in a fog. I hate the fog.”
“I’m not,” he said, more afraid of her paranoia than of the argument. “See? I put my schedule on the fridge. I’m working extra, so you’ll know when I’ll be gone. My friends are doing things—I’ll tell you then.”
“You bringing any home?” she asked suspiciously, and he thoughtWell, notnow!When the medication was working and V was all copacetic, she’d stay in her upstairs bedroom and bathroom, and he’d use the one downstairs. He’d had girls over and boys too—just told them to stay out of the upstairs. It worked better if his girlfriend or hookup had a place of their own, but he could make it work with V most days.
Unless she was like this.
“Not right now,” he said easily. “You know I don’t like to upset you.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ baby!” She screamed it, spittle coming out of her mouth and everything, and his stomach dropped and twisted at the same time.
“V, go get your medication, okay? I’m going to call your doc and make sure you got the same stuff.”
“I don’t need that goddamned poison,” she snarled, and he took a deep breath against tears. Oh Jesus, this was worse than he thought.
“V, honey, just do it for me, okay? I haven’t signed the papers in a while. I might not be able to sign them next time they show up, not if you’re like this.”
“You fucking asshole! You’d send me to one of those places? The places that stink of pee and have rapists in every corner? You’re my fuckin’ brother! I took care of you!”
“Honey, I don’t want to. We just need to make sure you’re taking your pills, okay?”
“I hate my pills, you fucking moron. Why would I take them to make you happy? Can’t you just make sure I have food in the house, or are you too fucking stupid to even do that?”
Reg swallowed against his temper and put the potatoes in the microwave—four of them, because he liked potatoes too, and, well, he had bacon. “V, please—don’t make me go get them myself. We agreed I’d respect your stuff, your space, okay? But if you don’t go get them yourself, I need to—”
“Fine!” On that word, she whirled out of the kitchen and stomped up the stairs. He listened carefully for sounds of the toilet flushing or water being run, but he didn’t hear them. Before he could get suspicious himself and investigate, she came stomping down, four bottles in her hands. She threw them at him, literally pitched them at him from across the room, and the lids burst open and the pills scattered across the floor at his feet.
“Oh fuck.” She was on social security, and that paid for her medicines, but what was left for Reg to pay was still a big chunk of his paycheck. He kept telling himself he’d check those papers he signed every year to see if maybe he’d pay less if he turned her over to the state, but he couldn’t bear the thought of sending her to one of those places.
He’d never been to one himself, but her sheer terror of a state-run health facility made his own hands sweat with fear like he’d caught the disease of it.
“V,” he muttered, sinking to his knees and sorting the pills. “V, just calm down. Let me pick these up, you can take the pink one, and then we’ll talk about the rest.” The pink one was a sedative—very mild—and it was the one pill she usually had no objection to. Once she had the pink one, he could reason with her, remind her of what would happen if she went off the rails, remind her of her fear of institutions and of ending up somewhere unfamiliar. He made sure all the pink pills were rounded up first and was going after the capsules with the red ends that she hated the most when, out of nowhere, her foot swung up and into his jaw.
He wasn’t a little guy, but his sister was solid, and she was fueled by anger and buckets full of crazy. He went toppling backward into the detritus of pill dust, then scrabbled to his hands and knees so he could get her in a three-point restraint.
The ripping pain across his shoulder blade was a surprise.
“Holy Jesus, V!” he shouted, rolling sideways to keep his face and neck protected. “Where’d you find the fuckin’ knife!”
