“Are you kidding me?” he asks. “People like that hate people like me. It never really made sense to me, though. When ya think about it, we are pretty much in the same line of work.”
“So there’s nobody that’s going to come after you if you don’t go back for that money,” I say.
Chris’s eyes go wide and he’s shaking his head as he takes a step back.
“That’s mine,[15] bro,” he says. “I love you and everything, but this place isn’t exactly worth giving up all I’ve worked so hard to achieve.”[16]
“It’s not your money,” I tell him. “You have an opportunity here. You can finally make the change we both know you need to make and I’m willing to help you every step of the way, but I need to know—and I mean absolutely know—that you’ve given up the life.”
“I don’t see why your panties are in such a bunch,” he says. “I pitch in with food. I’ve helped you with rent when I’ve stayed with you before…”
“You mean last time you were here and you gave me fifty bucks to replace the toilet seat you broke—how, I still don’t know—and with the food, I’m assuming you’re talking about that time you bought Funyuns and forgot to take them with you when you left?” I ask.
“You can paint me any way you want to, but this isn’t a one-sided deal,” he says. “I help you, too.”
“You’ve helped me before,” I tell him. “You helped a lot when I was younger and that’s probably why we haven’t had this conversation until now, but I’m sick of it, Chris! I never know when you’re going to show up, and when you do, there’s always the chance I come home to police cars and helicopters.”
“Oh, I’ve never brought the fuzz home with me,” he says, making another grab for the remote control.
“That’s just the worst case scenario,” I tell him, pulling the remote away from him. “Usually, you end up drinking all day, every day, and you never miss a chance to humiliate me. It’s really not that much better.”
“So, what?” he asks. “You want me to give up a quarter of a mil just because I like the sauce?”
“If it was actually your money, I’d tell you to spend it on rehab and some serious counseling,” I tell him. “Since it’s not, I’d say the bigger gesture would be giving it all up in favor of your new life.”
“I can’t do that,” he says. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d do that.”
“Then I guess we both know what happens next,” I tell him. “You’ve got five seconds to grab your stuff and get out of my house.”
For a second, he just stands there, but as soon as I actually start counting, suddenly, he has a lot to say.
“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he says. “Just hold on and let’s talk about this.”
“Four…” I count.
“What are you going to do?” he asks. “You going to literally throw me out of the house?”
“Three…” I count.
“The cops?” he asks. “You’re not actually saying you’d call the cops if I don’t—”
“Two…” I count.
“Do you have any idea what we could do with that kind of money?” he asks.
“One,” I count and take a step toward him.
“All right!” he cries. “I’ll give up the money, but I’m not paying rent. You’ve kind of just poached my nest egg there.”
“That’s fine,” I tell him. “First thing I want you to do is start looking at therapists.”
“You said I didn’t have to do that if I gave up the money,” he says. “I’m giving up the money. How am I supposed to pay for a therapist?”
“I’ll take care of it,” I tell him.
I have no idea where I’m going to get the money to cover someone else’s therapy, but I’ve got a very small window here, and I’m not going to let it close without doing everything in my power to get my brother to stop swindling people.
“I’ve been to therapists before,” he says. “You know that. Why do you think this time’s going to be different?”
“I don’t,” I tell him. “I just hope that it is.”
“You really think some shrink’s going to make me not want to work?”[17] he asks. “I really don’t think it’s a psychological issue.”
“Maybe it won’t do anything,” I tell him. “Maybe it will. I don’t know. It’s one of my requirements, though. I need to know that you’re making a real and honest effort.”
“I’m not going to any Freudians,” he says. “They’re all about Oedipus complexes and penis envy. It freaks me out.”
“As long as you’re going, I don’t care whose philosophy your therapist subscribes to,” I tell him. Remembering my brother’s unique way of twisting just about everything I’ve ever said, I decide to be more specific, saying, “It has to be a real therapist, though.”
“Who’s to say who’s a real therapist and who’s not?” Chris asks.
“I think that would be the American Psychological Association,” I tell him.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll give up an hour a week if it’ll get you off my back, but I’m going to need something in return for all that money I’m giving up for you.”
“You’re not giving it up for me and it’s not your money,” I tell him. “I will let you stay here rent free for the first month, and after that, I expect you to have a job—a real, normal person job. We can figure out how much is going to be fair with rent after that.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask,” he says.
“Yeah, but I know you,” I tell him. “I’m not going to give up anything more than I’m already giving for this. If you don’t like the deal, there’s the door.”
He looks at me, then at the door and then back at me.
“Just know,” I tell him, “you walk out that door now, and I don’t ever want to see your face again, you understand me? You walk out that door and show up again, I call the cops. You walk out that door and I run into you out in public, I call the cops. You walk out that door now,” I tell him, “and we are done.”
“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” Chris says.
“Call it what you want,” I tell him. “If you don’t believe I mean what I’m saying, just try me. Go ahead,” I tell him. “There’s the door.”
Chris scratches his head and looks at the ground.
“All right,” he says. “I’ll give it up; will you get off of me about it now?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, handing back the remote control. “Over the next little bit, I’m probably going to need some further evidence that you’re not just going right back to it,” I say, “but for now, we’re good.”
“Okay,” Chris says, glaring at me as he throws one hand over the opposite shoulder and turns the television back on again. “Hey,” he says, walking back to his spot on the couch and sitting down, “this is a momentous occasion in my life. I think we should celebrate.”