Page 62 of Playworld

Mom took a sip of wine, nodded, and then placed her glass back on the table and refilled it. “We have extra time to save for yours because you’re younger.”

“But nothing’s in the kitty yet.”

“We’re doing the best we can,” Mom said.

Oren whistled.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Mom asked.

“That I’m definitely getting a job this summer,” Oren said.

“Maybe you should start acting,” I said. I was half needling. I also thought it would be fun if we went on go-sees together.

“Maybe I’d like to have some dignity,” Oren said.

“Money can’t buy you that,” Mom said to him.

“It can help.”

“I’m not getting into this with you.”

“We can’t even afford to go on a vacation,” Oren said.

“What is this new obsession of yours with a vacation?” Mom asked.

“I want to come back from break with a tan. Like the other kids. I want to go on a trip, for Chrissakes.”

“I’llpay for vacation,” I said. “And wrestling camp too.”

Oren brightened. “Yes,” he said to me. To Mom: “Yes, let’s live a little.”

“You’re not old enough to make that decision,” Mom said to me.

“But he’s old enough to work!” Oren replied.

“He’s still a minor, and we decide how the money is spent.”

“What sort of slave-labor shit is this?” my brother said.

“Oren, your language.”

“When do I get to decide what to do with my money?” I asked.

“When you’re eighteen.”

“What if it’s gone by then?” Oren said.

“It won’t be,” she said to him; then to me, since I was looking at her with alarm: “Just like there’ll be money saved for your college. And since you’re looking for a job,” she added, turning back to Oren and getting up from the table, “you can do the dishes.”

After Mom left, Oren shook his head and sat brooding for a time. “You’re going about this wrong,” he said finally.

“How’s that?”

“You want to get out of show business, you need to go all in.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Get rich, retard. Thenbuyyour way out.”