Chapter 6 - Jason Finally Gets a Job
Jason lasted six days without internet.
Apparently, that was his limit.
He called me Thursday night.
“Mom says you’re suing Dad.”
“I haven’t filed anything.”
“Grandma says you should.”
“Grandma says a lot of things.”
He was quiet.
Then:
“I got a job.”
I almost thought I’d misheard him.
“What?”
“At Palmer Auto.”
“Doing what?”
“Detailing.”
“That’s good.”
“You don’t have to sound shocked.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Maybe I was.
Jason exhaled.
“Six days a week. Seven in the morning.”
“That’s early.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
For once, I heard no smirk.
No joke.
Just tiredness.
“How’s it going?”
“It sucks.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
To my surprise, he laughed too.
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess jobs do that.”
We went quiet.
Then Jason said something I wasn’t expecting.
“Dad lied.”
“About what?”
“The bills.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
“He kept telling me you made way more money than you actually did. Said you had investments. Said paying our stuff barely affected you.”
“I don’t.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“Mom showed me some statements.”
I stared through my apartment window.
“Why?”
“They were fighting.”
“What about?”
“Everything.”
Jason sounded uncomfortable.
“Dad keeps saying this is your fault. Mom finally screamed that he was the one who spent your money.”
That image stunned me.
Mom rarely challenged Dad.
“She said that?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he do?”
“Left.”
“Where?”
“Bar, probably.”
Jason paused.
“Eric, did Dad really open that credit card?”
“Yes.”
“And Grandpa left us money?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“I just found out.”
“How much?”
“About twenty-five thousand originally. More after growth.”
Jason swore quietly.
“He said Grandpa didn’t leave us anything.”
There it was.
For the first time, Jason wasn’t defending Dad.
He sounded betrayed.
“What happened to mine?”
“Most of it was spent.”
“On me?”
“Some.”
“Did I ask him?”
“I don’t know.”
“I didn’t.”
His voice became sharp.
“I swear, Eric, I didn’t know.”
Part of me wanted to accuse him anyway.
He had enjoyed the benefits.
The cars.
The motorcycle.
The bailouts.
But I also remembered something uncomfortable.
Jason had been raised inside the same system I had.
I was trained to sacrifice.
He was trained to receive.
Neither role had been healthy.
“That doesn’t erase everything,” I said.
“I know.”
“But it matters.”
He breathed out.
“Mom wants me to give them half my paycheck.”
I almost smiled at the irony.
“How does that feel?”
“Terrible.”
“Interesting.”
“Okay, screw you.”
I laughed.
He did too.
Then he became serious.
“I understand a little now.”
That mattered more than any apology he could have offered.
The next week, Jason took the bus to work after his motorcycle insurance became too expensive.
He started packing sandwiches instead of ordering food.
He canceled three subscriptions.
He sold a gaming console.
Mom increased her hours at the pharmacy.
Dad refused to change.
According to Jason, Frank spent most evenings telling anyone who listened that his sons had turned against him.
Then the landlord delivered formal eviction paperwork.
They had thirty days.
Mom called me.
This time, she didn’t ask for money.
“I’m scared.”
I sat quietly.
“I know.”
“Your father won’t talk about the budget.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I should have stopped him.”
I didn’t rescue her from the sentence.
She continued.
“I knew he took money from your account sometimes.”
“How often?”
“I don’t know.”
“You had access.”
“Yes.”
“So you could have looked.”
“Yes.”
It was the first honest conversation we had ever had.
She cried quietly.
“I told myself it was temporary.”
“Why?”
“Because admitting the truth would mean admitting I was helping him do it.”
I closed my eyes.
“Mom…”
“I failed you.”
There it was.
The apology I had wanted for years.
Not “I’m sorry you’re upset.”
Not “we made mistakes.”
I failed you.
I let the silence sit between us.
Finally, I said, “Thank you for saying that.”
“I don’t expect you to fix anything.”
“Good.”
She laughed through tears.
“That sounded harsh.”
“It was supposed to.”
Another shaky laugh.
Then she said:
“I’m looking at apartments.”
“For you and Dad?”
She hesitated.
“For me.”
That surprised me.
“What happened?”
“He told me if I was going to take your side, I could leave too.”
My chest tightened.
“Mom, are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need somewhere tonight?”
“No.”
This was different.
Offering safety wasn’t financing dysfunction.
“Grandma said I can stay with her temporarily.”
“Take it.”
“I think I will.”
Two days later, Mom moved into Grandma’s spare bedroom.
Dad called me fourteen times.
I answered the fifteenth.
“You happy now?”
“No.”
“You turned my wife against me.”
“No.”
“You turned Jason against me.”
“No.”
“You dragged my mother into this.”
“No.”
He screamed:
“Then what the hell did you do?”
I waited.
“Nothing, Dad.”
His breathing filled the line.
“That’s the part you can’t stand.”
He went silent.
“I stopped doing everything for you.”
Then I hung up.
That weekend, Jason moved into a cheap apartment with a coworker.
Dad remained alone in the rental house.
Three weeks remained before eviction.
For the first time in his adult life, Frank Miller had nobody left to blame inside the house.
May you like
So he chose me.
And his next move was the cruelest one yet.
