Page 324 of Double or Nothing

The casino has managed just fine without me, I’m sure. Eli has definitely managed just fine without me.

I figured I’d landed happy with a business like ours. A money rich venture that never required my permanent presence. I could appear whenever I wanted and disappear when something more interesting came along.

I ended up disappearing quite a lot.

I called it freedom. Eli called it taking the fucking piss.

He was right, of course. Just like always.

Fuck it. I ditch my dressing gown and start getting ready, jumping in the shower to polish myself up.

The suit is waiting.

So is the casino.

Responsibility.

What a hideous word.

It sounds like early mornings, tedious meetings and remaining in boring assed rooms long after they stop being entertaining. It sounds like becoming someone people rely on, when you can’t be that person. You don’t want to be that person.

Because you’ll give them the opportunity to discover that you’re not enough.

And that’s what truly gives me the shivers.

I learned a few nasty lessons when I was young.

My mother relied on everyone. That was her mistake.

She relied on my father first, with his suave good looks and his cracker of a smile, then relied on the men who came afterwards.

The divorce dismantled her. It fried her soul to hell.

Not dramatically. Not all at once.

Pieces.

She was left in horrible, broken pieces.

I saw her self-esteem shatter, one nasty crack at a time.

A weekend bag left by the stairs before Dad came to collect it. His shirts disappearing from the wardrobe. The silence at dinner when Mum realised there were only two places to set.

She’d spent her whole adult life being with Dad. First his girlfriend, then his fiancée, then his wife. When that ended, she had no idea what remained.

Apart from me.

I still remained.

Although I disappeared into the background. Probably nothing more than a sad reminder of what she’d lost.

She tried to find her missing pieces in other men.

A teacher from my school. Someone she met at a friend’s birthday. A neighbour’s brother who drove a convertible and smelt like shit quality weed.

Each one arrived with the possibility that she might become worth something again. Each possibility had her glowing. Hoping. Praying.

She changed herself for each of these possibilities every single time.