Son of a Theif

in writing •  7 years ago 

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Luke rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand as he sat in the breakfast joint and looked out the window to the bank across the way. He glanced down at his left wrist: Carl wasn’t here yet, and the job was supposed to go off in twenty minutes. He grasped his thermos with both hands to sipped his coffee and ran through the plan again. Luke wished Carl would get here already: the bank would be opening soon.

“Look at you,” Luke hadn’t seen Carl walking between the shelves of potato chips and the line of tables. “Little brother, you beat me here.” Carl sat across from Luke.

“Had a rough night,” Luke intoned as he took another sip. He still gazed towards the bank, but he wasn’t really looking at the bank.

“Lisa giving you a hard time before a job? That’s a good omen.” Carl produced a packet of peanuts from a pocket and pulled it open. He spilled a few on the table so his big hands could get at the nuts more efficiently.

“It feels different this time.”

“Just another day at the office, little brother.”

Luke put his head down and chuckled. He adjusted the tie he wore as part of his outfit. Part of the plan involved Luke applying for a business loan. Which both he and Carl found funny.

Carl took a turn looking at the bank. His gaze almost looked hateful of the tall building he had to rob. “I talked to Maria the other day.”

Luke perked up. “How is she? How is college?”

“She is going to be Maria Valquez, esquire.”

“She got in?”

“Flyin’ colors.”

“Awesome.”

“Yep.” Carl looked back to Luke, then down at the peanuts. “She, uh, she said she doesn’t want to see us two again.”

It stung Luke. “I understand.”

“She wants to work as a prosecutor,” Carl wore a wry smile, “she was always a little tattletale, our sister.”

“How much more does she need?”

Carl waved his hand. “Not much, getting her to take the money will be harder than getting it.”

“The worst part of this is that she will always hate us,” Luke paused, wondering if he should finished the thought, “hate dad.”

Carl sat up straight and crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, that’s how it goes. Dad did what he did for Maria and Harry to have a better life. And now it’s our turn. You know what he said to us when mom died.”

Luke nodded. He couldn’t hide a tear.

Carl noticed. “What did he say, Luke?”

“He said a man does things he hates so the ones he loves can have a better life.”

“And that no-one who climbs out of a sewer is clean.”

The two men sat in silence for a minute. Carl uncrossed his arms and finished the peanuts. He got every crumb and shred of plastic clean, like he was never there.

“How’s June?” Luke said.

Carl gave a sideways look with an eyebrow raised to his brother.

“Ah.” Luke finished his coffee. “You know, Lisa and she were talking,”

“We shouldn’t have hooked up with best friends. Now we gotta both dump ‘em together.”

“I don’t want to dump Lisa, and you don’t want to dump June.”

Carl fumed for a second. “Dammit. No I don’t. I love that pain in my ass.”

“Teach me your ways, oh poet.”

“Shut up. You were saying.”

“I don’t know. Just, well, Maria hates us for what we do, Harry’s too young yet but he’ll figure it out. June and Lisa know and if they leave us we’ll know why. Our kids-”

“Woah, no, no, no kids. I’m not bringing a child into this shit, and neither should you.”

“Alright.”

“I’m still tryin to get my kid brother through high school on the honor roll.”

“I know.”

“And Maria hates us because she wants to think she did it on her own, that the money was clean and she is where she is because she is good. It’s a lie she has to tell herself, so be it.”

“All I’m saying is what if we could do it clean.”

“Oh right, cause 7.25 pays for books, and apartments, and tutors, and food.”

“I talked to Mr. Forth yesterday.”

“What, Lisa’s dad? What, do you hate yourself that much?”

“He offered me a job.”

Carl was as animated as his frame and the narrow bench would allow. “Good for you, Mr. janitor, mr. clean-out-the-toilets. Get right on out of here. You saw what Harry’s meds cost, and Aunt Janet’s gonna need another surgery next year.”

“Carl, he talked to me,” Luke’s voiced cracked, “he talked to me like, like a man. Like I was something. He looked me in the eye and he told me what he expected, and I told him what I needed, and then, then we shook hands. Carl, I, if there’s a way out,”

“There’s no way out from being born in shit, Luke. Remember dad said-”

“Dad was a thief, and worse, Carl, he drove mom to cancer with the stress. We are here cause of his choices, not cause of some cosmic dice roll.”

Carl looked at his brother the same way he had looked at the bank earlier. “You know what? Today’s shot. Get your head together and give me a call later.” Carl got up and turned to walk out.

“June hasn’t told you yet, has she?”

“Told me what?” Carl turned ponderously to look at his brother again.

Luke got something out of his inside coat pocket. He turned it around once or twice while looking to Carl. He wordlessly mouthed a word or two trying to find the right one to start what he wanted to say, then gave up and tossed the ultrasound image on the table as he looked away again.

“What the fuck is this.”

“Carl, you do what you think is right. That’s something dad used to say too, isn’t it? Well, I gotta go straight. I need the people I love to be okay with me. I need, I need my kids to be proud of who I am, who I will be.” Luke stood up. He wore a suit. The suit they had bought to rob the bank. “I’m selling cars for M. Forth, and he said he needs a head mechanic. There wasn’t shit you couldn’t fix when we were younger. We can fix this now.” Luke put a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he walked passed.

Carl sank back into the chair. He held the image of his child in his right hand and covered his mouth with his left as tears welled up. He put the ultrasound down and clasped both hands together, wiping his eyes and sniffing as he looked back outside to the bank across the way.

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