The Request

Chapter-9 - After the Intervention

The next day in his father's office...

Exhausted from the night before, Adam was holding himself together through pure force of will. His father stared at him from across the vast expanse of his ridiculous desk, with his fingers steepled in front of him. The man looked smug.

Adam steeled himself before he said, "Mom has agreed to go into treatment." Adam fought back the urge to pull on his shirt collar and fiddle with his cuffs. The night before, it had taken them a couple of hours to get his mom to admit how deeply in trouble she was. When the truth came tumbling out, his head had begun to pound like a drum. The house had been mortgage to the hilt, and she'd done some shady side loans with unsavory characters. She'd discovered online gambling and fallen off the wagon and hit the ground hard, instigating a financial earthquake.

As a flex of power, his father made him wait for two hours before letting him come into his office suite. Not that it was necessary. Adam had never been confused about how his father felt his business was more important than his son.

"Isn't it time for you to let her live with the consequences of her bad choices?"

"I can't do that to Sarah. She has two more years until college."

"She is only your half sister. I mean, it's ridiculous that you changed your last name to match theirs. You would have had a much easier time getting financing for your business if you had kept my name. At your age, you should know to use every advantage you have."

"My business is doing just fine."

"How much does your mother need this time?"

"176,000 to get back to flat."

His father whistled and rocked back in his chair. "How did she manage that?"

"She lost her job and discovered online gambling. The free time and a gambling addiction were a terrible combination. She thinks she can win it back, if she has more cash."

"So your plan is to talk me into giving you money that she will lose? The house isn't worth that. Why not just go throw cash directly in my fireplace?" He gestured to the low burning flames.

The room was too warm, and Adam tugged at his collar. "Technically, I will buy the house from her. That way, she can't lose it again, and Sarah will be safe. She promised to go into treatment. Because she let her insurance lapse, the cost of the treatment program that had an opening for her is included in the number I am asking for."

"Son, this is a waste of your time and energy."

"It's my Mom. What if Grandpa had needed your help?"

"My father never needed anyone's charity. He was a business icon."

"Listen Dad, you don't have to even give me the trust. Just let me borrow from it. I will pay you back."

"That's a lot of money, son. I won't see you waste that gift by throwing it into an endless hole."

"You were married to her. Why do you hate her so much?"

"Did she never tell you?"

"You left her. I was old enough when you divorced to remember what happened."

His father clipped off the end of a cigar. "Want one? Cuban."

Adam shook his head no.

"You aren't a child anymore, so I guess the truth doesn't need to be hidden. I needed a paternity test to be sure you were mine."

"What? Why on earth would you question that?"

"Son, your mother married me for my bank account. She had a lover the whole time we were married."

"Why are you lying?"

"I'm not. It may be hard for you to imagine, but I loved your mother. I believed in her. Hell, I missed her every time I had to leave town, and felt guilty for all the hours I burned trying to make the family business bloom. Your Grandfather and I worked hard to figure out ways to expand our private clubs. Thinking it would make her happy, I flew home early from Zürich for her birthday."

Adam sat there, stunned.

"Let's just say that she wasn't alone." He puffed the fat cigar until the tip burned orange. "You can call her now and ask her if you want to."

"How did I never know?"

"You don't tell a kid that his mother is a whore, Adam. I'm not the best father, but even I wouldn't tell my son that his mother couldn't keep her panties on." He breathed out a plume of fragrant tobacco. "Funny thing is. I loved her and thought she loved me. Only time I ever fell for that bull shit. Don't believe in love Son, go young and choose a model with nice legs. Prenups are your friend."

"If you don't agree to help me. I'll just get married."

"Then you better ask my lawyer for a copy of the steel prenup I use. I will not help you sink deeper into the messes your mother always makes."

"I mean it Dad. You will lose control of my trust fund."

"Who is this love of yours? Last time I hired a private detective, the reports showed a handful of hook ups, but no signs of you pursuing anything serious. I made me proud. You are smarter than your old man that way."

Adam was just trying to threaten him. He wouldn't marry someone to get his hands on his inheritance. Mimi flashed in his mind. Or would he? Their campaign was fooling half the internet. Maybe it would fool his dad, too. He pulled up the image of them holding hands in the Coffee shop. Both of their businesses had reposted the cafe's picture. He turned his phone toward his dad. "This is Mimi."

"So she is interested in the hard working plumber? Does she know who you really are? Or where you spent your summers?"

"I've told her."

"Truly?" His dad chuckled and looked at his wrist. "I've got an important meeting to get to." His father did not believe him and he bristled. His Dad pulled a few hundreds out of his wallet and tossed them in front of Adam. "My contribution."

Adam narrowed his gaze.

"Don't forget to send me a wedding invitation."

***

***

Adam didn't remember packing rocks. Using both hands, he hefted his overstuffed suitcase out of the back of his truck. Hopefully, his Mother was ready to go. Taking the day off was something he never did. The last time he'd missed work was three years ago, when he didn't know what poison oak looked like, and had cleared the damn stuff with his bare hands. He'd had a massive reaction, hands swelling into mitts, and learned his lesson about gloves.

If only there was safety equipment he could purchase to wear around his mom. He hated that he was facing this again. The boy in him was raging. Bitterness filled his mouth at the thought of his sister navigating the shit he'd had to at sixteen. At least she wasn't on her own. She had him. Resigned, he locked his car and trudged his way up the walk. If he could get her into the car in the next two hours, he could make the trip and get back today.

Standing on the familiar porch of his childhood, he paused with his key in the lock. How many times was he going to save his mother from her own choices? He could leave right now.

The door hinges complained as he let himself in. In the hallway, Sarah stood with her hands in fists, facing his mother's closed bedroom door, oblivious to his arrival.

She struck their mother's bedroom door until it rattled, yelling at its flat, unresponsive surface. "That's it. I'm done. How could you have sold my car?" A snot bubble welled at her nose, and her face was red from crying. She kicked the door hard. "I bought that with my own money. Three summers of hard work. Gone."

Adam added one more thing to the list of what needed to be made right. Setting his bag down by the front door, he asked, "Bad morning?"

Sarah spun toward him and gestured emphatically toward the closed door. "Do you know what she did?"

"I guessed when you told me how long your car had been at the shop."

"I'm going to kill her." This time when she kicked their mother's bedroom door, her shoe left a dark scuff mark behind.

When Adam stepped forward and took her into his arms, she collapsed against him, weeping, shoulders shaking hard. Her words came brokenly. "How could she do this?"

Tightening his hold, he said, "Addictions fuck people up, Sarah. She is still our mom, just sick right now."

"I can't forgive her, never." He could feel her heart thundering through her back. "I worked so hard."

"We will try to get your car back."

She looked up at him, eyes reddened and swollen. "How?"

"Whatever used car lot bought that piece of puke with wheels, probably still has it sitting on their lot."

Pulling herself together, she pushed back out of his arms. "That's my car you are talking about."

He ruffled her hair, and she ducked sideways.

Their Mom's door creaked open. "Is it safe?" His sister glared from down the hall.

"Go to your room, Sarah."

With a nod to him, she flicked her middle finger up and thrust it toward her mother's door. The family temper, all of them had one.

He spoke to the bedroom door. "Tell me you are ready, mom."

After tentatively peeking around the corner, she came out lugging a wheeled suitcase behind her that had seen better days.

"I'm glad you are packed."

"Mostly. I have a little more to get together."

"We need to be gone in an hour."

"I need fifteen minutes."

***

An hour later, Adam scrolled through his phone until he came across the picture of the cupcake with her kid brother. Love radiated from them. Even though her parents were over protective, they at least paid attention. Why was she so pretty? If he asked nicely, Mimi might check on his sister later in case he ran late. Beside the front door: two bags, a pillow, a blanket, and a few random paper bags waited. His mother came out of her bedroom with a laptop case.

"Mom, you have an online gambling habit. You can't take your personal computer."

Wrapping her arms around it protectively, she said, "Why not? It's not drugs."

"Drugs aren't your problem."

Her lips tightened. "I'm taking it. If they don't let me bring it in, then fine."

"They won't let you check in with all that stuff."

"You don't know. You haven't been in rehab before."

"True enough. I'll bring home what they won't let you take in." He stood up and reached for the first suitcase. "It's been fifteen times four. I'm going to load this crap into your car and then I'm coming back to get you." She was still in her robe and slippers. "On your own two feet, or over my shoulder, you will be getting in the car."

"You weren't this rude when you were a kid."

"I'd been through less. Change if your are going to change. I don't really give a shit right now."