Chapter 13: Ricky
"Bro, how would you feel about helping me out with something? And before you say anything, yes, I’m being serious," I queried, pushing the door open and stepping into the mess that was his room.
"I figured you couldn't even stand to be in the same zip code as me, let alone ask for a favor," Georgie replied, his voice dripping with that classic bratty sarcasm. He swiveled in his computer chair, his headset hanging around his neck, to face me with a look of pure suspicion.
"Look, usually I can’t, but today you actually have a shot at being awesome. Don't blow it," I said, trying to maintain some level of authority.
He frowned at me, his eyebrows knitting together. "What's the face for?" I asked.
"Are you serious right now? Is this some kind of elaborate joke or a prank for your social media? Because if you’re about to dump a bucket of water on me, I'm telling Mom," Georgie inquired, bracing himself.
"Not at the moment. I'm focused on a much bigger, much more dangerous target," I said, letting out a heavy breath. I made my way over to his bed—which was covered in comic books and stray socks—and promptly sat on the edge, leaning my elbows on my knees.
"Is it someone from your school? That girl you were moping about?"
"Yes, it's about her. And my plan is—"
"Boys! Downstairs, now!" Mom’s voice shouted from the bottom of the steps, sharp and insistent. I rolled my eyes in pure irritation, the momentum of my plan vanishing instantly. We both rose, Georgie looking relieved to escape the conversation and me just feeling annoyed that my big pitch was being interrupted.
I wondered what Mom wanted this time. Maybe she needs someone to watch Manny while she goes on another 'soul-searching' grocery run, I thought bitterly. We descended the stairs in silence, finding Mom standing in the kitchen. She was holding a squirming Manny in one arm and the house phone in the other, looking more stressed than usual.
"You called for us? Is the house on fire or something?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and stopping at the bottom step.
"Your father is on the line," Mom said, her voice tight. She extended her arm, holding the phone out like it was a live grenade. "He wants to speak with both of you. Together."
The air in the room felt like it turned to lead. "Well, I don't want to talk to him," I snapped, my hands instantly balling into fists in my pockets.
"Ricky, please. Whatever issues your father and I have, they are between us. They aren't yours to carry," Mom said, her eyes pleading
"No, I’m not doing it. I don't want to talk to him. Tell him to leave us be. Tell him he’s got a new life now, so he can go live it."
"He cares about you both, truly he does. He just wants to hear your voices."
"If he actually cared about us, he wouldn’t have walked away from this family for some girl he met at work," I retorted, the anger rising in my throat. "He made his choice. This is the consequence."
Mom’s gaze shifted away from me, looking defeated, and landed on my brother. "Georgie... can you at least talk to your father? Just for a minute?"
Georgie looked back and forth between me and Mom, his expression torn. "Sure," he finally replied, his voice small. He reached out and took the phone first, avoiding my eyes as he walked away toward the living room to begin his conversation.
Traitor! I thought, glaring at his back. I couldn't believe he was just giving in that easily, acting like Dad hadn't just uprooted our entire existence.
"Ricky, I want you to maintain a good relationship with your father. I don't want this move to be the end of your bond," Mom said, stepping closer and bringing my focus back to her.
"I understand what you want, Mom, but he chose to leave for someone else. He didn't choose me, or Manny, Georgie, or you. He chose her."
"I just don't want you to grow up harboring regrets, honey. Anger is a heavy thing to carry into your adult life."
"To me, my father is as good as gone. He’s a stranger who happens to have my last name."
"And you think not speaking with him helps that?"
"Yes. It keeps things simple. Georgie or Manny can talk to him whenever they want, and Manny can decide for himself when he’s older, but right now? I’m not interested in playing happy family over a long-distance call," I explained, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts.
Mom stared at me for a long time, searching my face for a crack in the armor. Finally, she let out a long, weary sigh and nodded briefly. "Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t force you to talk to him if you aren't ready."
"Thanks. That’s all I ask for," I replied, offering a faint, hollow smile in her direction before turning to head back upstairs, the sound of Georgie’s muffled "Hey, Dad" echoing painfully from the other room.