“You know. If you’d asked me this morning, I’d have said no. It doesn’t sound so bad now.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” I play with a hole in my jeans. I know the thought of me out here, getting an education and living the life he never got to is a comfort to Benny. He thinks I’m the most brilliant person in the world, and I don’t want to shatter that vision for him with the grim reality. “I’m ok, Ben,” I assure him. “Just tired. Midterms this week.”
Benny makes a skeptical noise. “If you say so. Listen, I didn’t want to bother you with this till I knew for sure, but it looks like Mom is going to be spending some time on the inside.”
I sigh, more out of exhaustion with my life than any real surprise. “What did she do now?” It won’t be the first time our mother has seen prison time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. She’s an addict, and addicts tend to get themselves in trouble with the law. Judges were lenient when Benny and I were kids but not anymore.
“Armed robbery,” Benny replies, sounding just as weary as I feel. “It’ll be a long one, with all her priors.”
A part of me is relieved. At least we’ll know where she is, know she isn’t doing drugs or sleeping with men who hurt her. “All right,” I say at last, listening to the echoing voices in the background of Benny’s call get a little louder. “Do you need money?”
Benny huffs. “You know I don’t like to ask you for shit. I’m your big brother. I ought to be sending you money while you’re in school.”
“I work.” I remind him unnecessarily. Benny would never ask unless he was desperate, but he certainly never says no when I deposit into his commissary. I can’t bring myself to resent him for it. He’s all I have. I’d known how he was getting all that cash. I should have stopped him and done something so he didn’t end up behind bars.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Benny snaps. “You’re not responsible for my actions, Alice. Don’t put my shit on yourself.”
I don’t reply.
“Ali?” Benny asks, his voice rough. “I’m proud of you, all right? If that counts for anything. And I love the shit out of you.”
I give a watery laugh. “It does, Ben. I love the shit out of you too.” I wipe my eyes again. “I’ll send money tomorrow, okay? I can afford it. Really.” I can afford it if I don’t eat more than ramen noodles for Thanksgiving, but I leave that part out.
“Yeah, all right.” He agrees gruffly. “You going somewhere for Thanksgiving?”
“A friend’s house.” Another lie. I don’t have friends.
“Good.” Says Ben. “Think about calling Mom, all right?”
“I will.”
We hang up, and I sit on the cold ground for a moment longer. A few lights from the building have flicked on, casting bright patches over the leaf-strewn grass. I wonder if one of them is Dr. Faust and whether he’s still annoyed with me or if I’ve already been forgotten.
One more inconvenience in his day.
