Page 96 of Malaise
Poverty is a cycle, an inescapable eddy that drags down the unfortunate souls who swim too close. The effort it takes to get out is too strong, the ease at which it pulls you in too appealing to the tired and dejected.
Tanya beautifully puts into words the exact reason why Carver thinks it’s better for me to go it alone than to carry him with me.
Because he’s destined to make the same choices as his father, not knowing any different. Destined to take the easy way out when the people with the resources and capabilities to help him break the cycle make it so fucking hard for him to do so. All because of a name.
I still refuse to believe it; that I’m not strong enough to be the catalyst of that change for him. Maybe it’s too hard for him to do alone, but the town doesn’t look at me like they do him. I have more choices, more opportunities, and I have the ability to help him show the critics who he really is: loving, caring, and selfless.
He’s underestimated me by telling me that I’m better off without his influence, and it’s only fuelled me on.
“Can you drop me off at my parents’ house, please?”
Tanya glances over as we enter the town limits for Whitecaps, slowing to the residential speed limit. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I straighten in my seat, pulling in a deep breath and pushing my chest out. “In fact, I think it’s the most sure I’ve ever been in my life.”
***
“You don’t have to get involved in this mess, you know.”
Tanya nods beside me, standing on my parents’ front step. “I know. But I want to. It’s the least I can do to repay what you’re doing for Brett.”
The door swings open before I can answer, and I straighten my spine, ready to sort this once and for all.
“Meg,” Dad greets coolly before letting his disinterested gaze drift over to Tanya. “Miss Carver.”
She sticks her hand out. “Tanya.”
He reluctantly shakes it. “Peter.” His eyes move between the two of us again before he relents. “Come in.”
I gesture for Tanya to go first, and trail in behind, shutting the door. Dad leads us through to the living room and takes a seat, nodding for us to do the same.
“To what do I owe this visit?”
“I think you know,” I counter.
He narrows his gaze on me, the telltale rose of his cheeks giving away his irritation at having me under the same roof, let alone talking back.
“What’s he done now?” He directs the question at Tanya. “I presume Meg’s only returned with you in tow because of your brother.”
“You’d assume right, sir,” she responds, seated impeccably with her hands crossed on her bent knees. “Brett is currently remanded in Kirkman prison awaiting trial for burglary, as well as another minor charge, but I’m going to assume you’re a man who’s in touch with the world around him and that you already know that.”
He straightens in his seat, clearly intrigued by how well-spoken this tattooed and bleached vixen is. “I am aware, yes.”
“Which would render your initial question to us redundant then, would it not?”
Ha ha, schooled. I do my best to hide the smile that wants to break free.
“It would,” Dad answers, hard expression returned.
“Brett informed us that on the night in question he was in fact here, talking with you. Is that right?”
“I think you already answered that question yourself.”
“Why then,” I ask, “haven’t you gone down to the station to say so?”
“Why should I?” He turns to face me, his body stiffening as he does. “Why would I go and help that lowlife out when he was the reason you ended up the way you are now.”
“And how am I, Dad?”