Page 82 of Malaise
“Well that sounds hopeful,” I sass.
“He has this way of… I don’t know… doing what he thinks is right, but not thinking through the full consequences of his actions.”
An awkward moment passes with Tanya trying to eat her apple pie as quietly as possible, while I stare out the side window at the sheer pitch-black surrounding us.
“I can’t stomach just sitting back and doing nothing.”
“We won’t,” she replies. “And as much as a grumpy old bugger Dad is, he’s probably the best person to talk to about it.”
“Why? He set him up last time.”
“Yeah,” she says, drawing out the word, “but….”
“But what? What excuse is there for what he did?”
“There’s none,” she agrees. “But the thing you don’t get, Meg, is that Dad’s been to prison. He’s been in this life for decades. Dad knows how the cops work, and he would know how we can get Brett out, if we even can.” She looks down at the box in her hands, fidgeting with it as she sighs. “I know it’s hard, and I know this is all new for you, but it’s not for our family. There’s a reason why the whole damn town sees us all as nothing but criminals, and that’s because we’ve given them reason to.”
“But you’re good people,” I protest. “You guys were the only people who were there when I needed somebody to listen, to care.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “But good people still do bad things, Meg.”
I run a hand down the leg of my jeans and frown. Why did he, though? I never forced him to pay for that damn motel. God, it’s all my fault. I did this. If it weren’t for me and my stupid problems, then he never would have felt the need to steal to support us. What the hell did you do, Carver?
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I look over at Tanya, at how tired she appears, how dejected. She’s a mirror of me. “If it wasn’t for me having this disagreement with my parents, needing somewhere to stay….”
“Shush.” She shakes her head firmly. “None of it is because of you, so get that ludicrous thought out of your head. He’s a grown man, Meg; he can make his own decisions.”
“Maybe so, but I think it’s about time I started making my own.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s go talk to your dad and see what he can do, huh? I know Carver wants me to have nothing to do with him—”
“Me as well,” Tanya adds.
“But if putting up with his shit is what it takes to help your brother get his arse out of jail, then I’m all in.”
“Atta girl.”
***
Jon Carver is exactly where we left him, drinking in his armchair while his inebriated girlfriend snores on the sofa to his left. I walk into the lounge and stand where he can’t help but see me. Tanya follows me in and pats my shoulder before she takes a seat on the second sofa opposite Deb.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” His eyes never leave the TV.
“We need your help.” Damn that waver in my voice.
He turns his head and regards me before looking around me to eye Tanya. “What the hell would you want my help for?”
“Brett’s in custody,” she drops. “He got picked up for burglary.”
Their old man grumbles under his breath and turns his attention back to the TV with a sneer. “Stupid boy never did learn.”
“Learn what?” I snap, despite the sick fear slapping around in my gut. “He was sentenced for a crime you did last time, so what should he have learnt? Not to trust his father?”
Jon’s eyes go wide, his shock at being spoken back to clear as day in the way his head rears back. “Excuse me?”