Page 35 of Tainted Love
“What about your grandmother?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. Of course, she remembers Gram. I have a feeling Sascha never forgets anything.
“The woman is a saint,” I say, my voice filled with admiration and love for my grandmother. “She’s been the most influential and important person in my life, which is why I did what I did last night.”
“I don’t follow,” she says, her eyes searching mine for an explanation.
“Gram lives in an old age home,” I tell her, my heart aching at the thought of her living there. “She’s been there for a few years, and I hate it. It breaks my heart to see her confined to that place. So I work extra night shifts to save enough money to move her somewhere better. Maybe an apartment with me, where she can have care around the clock.”
“I had no idea,” she admits, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine in sympathy and understanding.
“No one does. Delzy knows some stuff, but I don’t exactly advertise my business,” I admit with a weary sigh. A tinge of shame creeps into my voice as I think about the things I’ve had to do to survive.
“I can imagine,” she responds sympathetically.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. “So I’ve been saving this money in an old Folgers coffee can in the back of my closet. It’s not much, but it’s all I have.” The truth sounds so pathetic and small when spoken aloud. “I forgot to lock my bedroom door yesterday.”
Her eyes widen in disbelief, and she gasps, “You have to lock your door to keep your own family from stealing from you?” Her tone is incredulous and laced with anger.
“Yeah,” I reply bitterly. “No one is winning father or brother of the year in my house.” My lips curl into a self-deprecating smile as I try to make light of the situation. Inside, I am seething with resentment toward my family.
As if sensing my emotions, she rolls her eyes, and I can see her hands beginning to shake with righteous anger.
“So I got home late last night, and my door was open,” I continue, trying to push away the hurt and frustration that threatens to consume me. “The coffee can was gone.” My heart sinks at the thought of all the hard-earned money that has now been stolen from me.
“That motherfucker!” she seethes.
“Indeed,” I agree.
“No one was home. I don’t know. I was just so angry. I grabbed a bottle of tequila and started drinking. Which is the absolute last thing I should’ve done. I know that.”
Sascha listens intently.
“Brian got home a few hours later, and I was shit-faced and angrier than before. When I confronted him, he denied it at first. Then he laughed and called me pathetic.”
“Now I wish I hadn’t stopped you from punching him in the face,” she jokes.
“He and my dad have been trying to get control of Gram’s finances for years. She barely has anything, but they will take it. Stealing money meant for her felt like stealing directly from her. It was the last straw. I snapped.”
“I understand,” Sascha says. “And I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.” I can see the genuine concern in her eyes, and it warms my heart.
“I’m sorry you’ve endured this pain for years,” she replies softly.
“It’s all right,” I respond with a hint of a smile. “I have hockey and Gram. That’s all I need to get through tough times like these.”
Her smile grows wider, and I feel a sense of understanding between us.
“But now I’ll have to find a way to rebuild my savings.” My tone turns serious as I think about the daunting task ahead.
“You could always become a gigolo,” she teases.
“Only if you’re my first client,” I retort with a laugh. The words hang awkwardly in the air between us, causing a brief moment of silence.
“Well, I should probably go clean up and head to bed,” she announces, standing up from the table.
“You go rest,” I insist. “I’ll clean up around here. It’s the least I can do.”
She nods in appreciation and starts toward the door. Right before she reaches it, she turns back to me with a small smile. “Michael, thank you for confiding in me. I won’t tell anyone else.”
