Read Online For the Love of Money by Sam Polk - Free Book Online Page B

for Dad’s public relations firm, he’d told me during one of our drives home that Stacy, an attractive young woman he’d hired to answer phones, sometimes gave her boyfriend “Altoid blow jobs,” where she’d put two Altoids in her mouth and then go down on him.
    â€œIt’s an amazing feeling,” Dad said. “Apparently.”
    I’d known it was weird for Dad to tell me that and to be talking to Stacy about stuff like that. But I loved that he was giving me a peek into a world he kept hidden from the rest of our family. Dad and I had an unspoken understanding—I’d stolen his porn magazines for years, and he never said a word. I smiled conspiratorially and never looked at Stacy the same way again.
    I got a job as a bicycle messenger on the Disney Studios lot. It was a good job—fresh air, riding a bike all day. But there was one problem—our family only had two cars, which meant I had to carpool with Mom. I would drop her off at the clinic, then drive to Disney. After work I’d pick her up and drive her home.
    Mom had always been late. Growing up, it wasn’t unusual for Ben and I to be kicking dirt on the baseball diamond, the stadium and parking lot empty, an hour after all the other kids had gone home.
    Each morning I’d be standing at the front door. “Mom, we were supposed to leave ten minutes ago.”
    â€œAlmost ready,” she’d yell back.
    After work it was even worse. I’d call her as I was leaving Disney and ask her to meet me outside. When I arrived, there’d be no sign of her. I’d wait in the car, stewing.
    When she got in the car I’d say, “Mom, I’ve been waitingtwenty minutes!” I tried to keep my voice calm, but when I finished I’d be shaking. She’d say one of her patients took longer than expected. We’d ride home in a toxic silence.
    One night, I was in the living room reading, and I could hear Mom and Dad arguing in their bedroom. Mom was trying to sleep. Dad wouldn’t get off his cell phone.
    â€œTony, can you please be quiet?” she said. He didn’t answer her.
    A few minutes later, Mom tried again. “Tony, I’m trying to sleep,” she said. I could hear the anger in her voice.
    â€œLeave me the fuck alone, Linda,” Dad spat back.
    â€œGo talk somewhere else!” Mom barked.
    Dad ignored her. For a few seconds we listened to him talk into the phone.
    â€œFuck you, Tony,” Mom suddenly shouted. The bed creaked. I imagined her turning away from him, enraged.
    I hunched over in anticipation. I knew Dad was going to retaliate—I just wasn’t sure how. He hung up the phone. For a moment there was silence. Then the bed creaked as Dad stood up. A few seconds later, he charged past me into the kitchen. I heard the freezer open and ice cubes hitting the bottom of a pitcher. He stormed past me going the other way, this time carrying a pitcher of ice water. He walked over to Mom’s side of the bed and pulled the covers off her. When he dumped the pitcher of ice water on her, she screamed. I’d never heard anything like that scream before. It was animalistic.
    When they fought, I’d always sided with Dad. But hearing him douse her, warm in bed, with freezing water was the single worst thing I’d ever witnessed. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t.
    For several days, I went out of my way to be kind to Mom. But she kept making me late to work, and by the end of the week my resentment had returned. On Friday, I called her after work and said I’d pick her up in ten minutes and wouldreally appreciate if she were downstairs when I arrived. She said she would be.
    When I got there, she was nowhere to be seen. I called her number. When I got her voice mail, I became furious. I called back three times before she finally picked up.
    â€œSam,” she said, exasperated, “I’m coming down.”
    â€œYou said