Living on a prayer

Living on a prayer.

(Inspired by the song)

I never liked that kid. He was damn bad for my sister, he was. You could have said I had a grudge. It wasn't to say I thought he came from bad folks, nor was it his fault that he was in such a bad place. It was the way he made my sister love him. The way he made her stay. In return he gave her nothing; nothing but words which could have verged on either side of truth. And that's why I despised him. She fed him, she housed him, she gave him everything she had, to the point of wasting herself away. A woman doesn't earn as much as a man, let alone enough to support the life of two. All my sister had ever thought she'd be was a housewife- and that's all he had ever expected from her.

~

Hearing him, and her about him around the clock, really pushed on my patience. I had listened through my teeth as the news was passed around. Sometimes it had been by her words, sometimes by his. But more than often it had been the hens at the diner, twittering in my ear every time I stopped by, thinking that I had cared.
Apparently he pawned off his guitar, their songs of sorrow sung, he's got nothin' left but memories now. Expressing contempt to these messengers would have been pointless, all they were was just preen and feathers, too dull to comprehend and too dull to even care. The loss of heart through the guitar had only accented the fact that all he knew were a few chords; pretty enough to flirt with the girls who were just as easily impressed. Gina herself had played the piano before she left to him, so a pianist like her, knew that the true beauty lay in the art of the ability to create the tunes, rather than having the tool used to make them. Those who could be honest to themselves would be able to see the lack of loss in what had never been had.

~

He had been at the docks then, Gina still working, stuck deep into the hour. He was meant to be on strike, him and the boys, yet he had been holed up as usual in the spare warehouse, sharing drinks, cards, and smokes, every day was a day off. At those moments perhaps he couldn't have cared a less about the 'going tough', about my sister, or about the fact that they were living off the scrapings of blue velvet.

~

The haze within the bounds of wood and dirty light had been thin enough to see through. None of them had given a second glance as I had beckoned Tommy out for the 'talk' I had planned, to show him what I thought of him. He came easily, his eyes heavy and bored, tossing a key to a kid who looked hardly out of his teens, Hey Richie, lock up on the way out. It had been clear outside if you get past the stench of fire and oil sheen, bright on the silent docks.
'How's the going?" It had been me who had struck first, aware of the mutual relationship. I didn't like him and he didn't like me, I was just the brother, one who wasn't even in Gina's own favor at that.
He spat the stub from between his teeth into the sea. It had gone out like a light, swallowed into a hole of blackness, the slick surface of the water, undisturbed.
"Goin' tough, we're just living off prayer." He shrugged with a smile, "we'll scrape through."
It was still an excuse that I had been looking for, the slightest reason to take Gina away.
"Got a smoke?" I had then asked, feet kicking, to get that casual innocence. He didn't say anything but drew a pristine pack, band new and clean, sticking a fresh one tight between his lips before offering it to me.
It's those instincts that hit before you have time to speak that had snared me. Between the yell of 'you bastard' and knocking the pack from his hands then seizing his arms, was only a matter of moments. I hadn't planned for too much trouble, just a bit of mild violence only intended to scare. My sisters money is what that son of a gun had been spending, on tobacco and addiction. His dirt was not worth my sister.

~

It hadn't been my fault that he fought back hard. The simple shove had turned into swings and punches, leaving us both grovelling in the grime until I finally had him up by his shirt. I had been about to spit his worth in his face when he struck hard, using leverage to send me backward into steel. My head had struck hard. It drained all sound save a high pitched ring. Cowered into a crouch, my whole body numb, my head, dizzy and pounding. I'll kill him. He had felt me up and pat me down, in and out of pockets. I took my last grab.
"You..."
"Get off me!" He twists hard when he grabbed the pipe from the wild spares, strewn across the jetty.The world and my head had exploded.

~

He dared show his face when he had dragged himself in on Gina. Blood on his hands, blood on his face. 'It's not mine'. Her face had folded on relief then back to horror. There was an accident at the docks, moving some spare machinery... your brother stopped by. Her blank face, lack of reaction, was sick. I'm sorry baby, I know he was family. Before the accident he said he would help us out, gave me some cash, a whole hundred.
She prayed for me as he prayed for himself, then looked hard at the blood he is holding in his hands. He turned to Gina.You take it, I trust you with our future. We no longer need hope, because you are all the hope I've got. Spend it well, buy what you need, and we'll pull through.
I swear.