Mitchum and Me

“It was merely about the money.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Dad somehow managed to bring the green killer into every conversation I had with him.”

“He was, ah,” she says while looking down her notepad, “a rich fuck?”

I should’ve worded that differently but it works.

“Yeah, but that's not what I meant. Sometimes he didn't give a care about the spending he did. My mom would even fuss more about his finances than he ever did.”

“Why is that?” She asks her question very smoothly, like, she’s been waiting for this moment from the start.

I look down and start to play with my fingernails. I did not know where to begin but as I listen to the silence between us, I decide to take a leap into the gaps of nothing.

“Because mom cared about not having a home, food or money more than dad did.” I frown. “But isn’t that what mothers are suppose to do?”

I see her frowning too.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that.” I shrug. “Well, I don’t know exactly what I meant.”

“Take your time,” she says calmly.

Once I was born into this world, I’ve never had the chance of just taking my time.

“See, when mom stopped working at the hospital on California Avenue, I knew it from then that financially we would be going downhill.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I hated the classes I took at U of M, but if there was anything I learned from my micromanagement class, I learned that you need to have a job to make money in order to spend money.”

She quickly writes down something on her notepad before she looks at me again. Her mouth is curved into a slight smile, almost as if she is encouraging something~ something I did not know.

“Well, after she quit her job as a Registered Medical Assistant, she stayed home. She hired a personal chef to help her become more involved in the kitchen but that didn’t quite work out. So, after all that staying home and shit, dad is obviously expected to handle the finances and shit, right?”

She nods.

I continue, “I just don’t see why she had to stop working just because my dad said to. I know he made quite a lot of cash but don’t stop your partner from helping out with the family, you know?”

I feel my face redden by the last couple words said.

“Well, dad did a darn good job of assuring mom, Mitchum and me that he could handle all that money heat,” I say louder while looking down at my tattered clothes. “I expected him to fool Mitchum and Me, but mom? How could he do that to her?”

“Callux,” she softly says. “Breathe.”

“Basically, dad’s game plan was to make sure no one knew about his gambling problem while lying to his family about being financially stable.”

“Breathe.”

How?