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Show All the Variables & Other Love Stories 17 morbid to me. Sure he was a bully, but I couldn't bear thinking of him suffering with no end. I became certain it was I who would have to convince him. He just had to let it all go, that's all there was to it. Once he knew all the variables he could plug them in and it would be easy. He didn't love Sheila. If she wanted to have the kid on her own, it was her business. It would be better for him to pay child support than to marry her. He made a mistake and he would have to answer for it; but he didn't owe her anything, let alone his whole life; he didn't have to be a meal-ticket like Dad; making a mistake didn't have to disqualify Brandon from chasing his truest desires. The next time I saw him pull his car into the garage, I gave him a few minutes and went out there. He sat with his forehead on the steering wheel. I knocked on the passenger side window. The wheel left a deep groove tattooed on his forehead. When he recognized me he looked genuinely disgusted but unlocked the door anyway. "I hate you," he said calmly. Spooky calm, like he'd stopped struggling and accepted it. "I haven't done anything yet," I said. "It isn't fair," he said. "You don't do anything right, and things always go your way. I do everything I'm supposed to, and nothing ever works out for me." "That's not true." "Shut up. You want to be an artist, so you go against everything Mom and Dad and common sense say, and do it anyway. You ain't got a job, you ain't applied to any colleges. You got nothing but a pipedream and my girlfriend, but you ain't even nervous cause things have a way of working for you." |
