I glanced at Billy and Billie. Billie was staring wide-eyed at the proceedings. Billy was fighting back a grin.

Oh boy.

Maybe I should try to gain control of the situation.

“Mitch,” I said, sidling closer to him, “maybe you should –”

I didn’t finish again because his eyes cut to me again and he asked on a dangerous whisper, “What’d I tell you to do?”

I stared up at him frozen to the spot. Okay, that answered that. Mitch was in charge.

I nodded and turned to the kids. “All right guys. Let’s go get your stuff.” I moved to them. “Come on, let’s go.”

Billy grinned at me then tugged his sister’s hand and they moved down the hall. They shared a room which was okay for now considering their ages but it was just okay. Billy was getting old enough he needed his own space and it wouldn’t be long before it was borderline inappropriate for a brother and sister to share a room.

I wondered what the rent on the three-bedroom townhouses at the complex was as I searched for some kind of luggage or bags. Though I knew this would be fruitless as I knew there were none and I was right. They didn’t even have garbage bags, something I discovered upon tidying one of the million times I tidied. I always meant to remember to buy some and, being me and being a dork, I always forgot.

I found a load of plastic grocery bags (Bill clearly not the kind of person to worry about the environment). By the time we filled these with Billy and Billie’s not so abundant collection of clothes, shoes and toys, I found they barely had any soap or shampoo. I added a quick pit stop to the store on my evening’s agenda. Then we trudged out to the living room carrying the bags only to find there were two police officers in the room.

“You brought a cop here!” Bill shouted when the kids and I hit the room and I looked at my cousin to see he’d lost his drugged lethargy. He was pacing agitatedly and awkwardly while he eyed the cops and me.

“Bill –” I started.

“Mara,” Mitch called and I stopped talking and looked to him. He was holding out his keys. “Load up the truck.”

“But –” I began again.

“I can’t believe you brought a f**kin’ cop here!” Bill yelled, he was up but his coordination was not so good and he was mostly fumbling around. I didn’t figure he was much of a threat, what with him being drunk and high and three cops being in the room.

“I’ll deal with this,” Mitch caught my attention. “Load up the truck.”

My eyes went to the uniformed police officers before going to Mitch. I was thinking this was not good. Bill was an idiot but he was my cousin and he was the kids’ Dad. There was good in him somewhere, I knew it. I just needed to stop screwing around living in denial and find a way to jumpstart him by pulling out the good so he could get himself sorted. I needed to remind him how we used to talk about how we wanted our lives to be and how we’d dreamed and schemed of making them something better. I just needed to make sure Billy and Billie were safe while Bill sorted himself out and I was thinking my plans might be foiled if Bill was thrown into jail because of me.

“I think –” I started to say to Mitch.

His eyes narrowed before he clipped, “Baby, load up the f**kin’ truck.”

The uniformed police officers were both studying me with what appeared to be weirdly intense interest but I was again frozen in the face of Mitch’s fury. It was then that Billy moved forward, calmly grabbed Mitch’s keys and headed to the door carrying four bags full of clothes and shoes. Billie followed her brother.

There it was again. I was not in charge.

Damn.

I glanced at Bill and followed Billie.

After the first round I made the kids sit in the truck while I got the rest of their stuff. When I opened the door and walked in, Bill was ranting, flailing and struggling with the police officers. He did this while Mitch glared at him, his phone to his ear, his other hand to his hip. I scurried through the house to go and grab some more bags.

On trip three, the last of the trips, I heard Mitch say in his phone, “Give me a second.” Then he called, “Mara,” and I looked at him. “That it?” he asked, dipping his head to the bags I was carrying.

I nodded.

“Don’t come back,” he ordered. “Stay in the truck with the kids.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“You freakin’ bitch!” Bill shouted at me. I tried not to look at him but I had to look at him so I looked at him to see he was cuffed and sitting on his couch, bouncing clumsily around. His eyes were shooting daggers at me. “You freakin’ bitch!”

“Mara, out to the truck,” Mitch demanded.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” Bill yelled. “My f**kin’ family. Flesh and blood! You bitch!”

“Out to the truck, Mara, now,” Mitch clipped.

“Fuck you, Mara!” Bill screamed at me. “Fuck you! You just bought yourself trouble, you bitch!”

I looked at Bill and explained, “Bill, they haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’ll f**k with you!” he shouted.

“Mara, out to the truck,” Mitch ordered but I ignored him.

“Somewhere inside you, you have to know they deserve better. You know how you’re making them feel. You know you don’t want to make them feel that way,” I said softly to my cousin.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Bill yelled loudly to me.

“They’ve been gone for hours. They came in, Bill, and you didn’t even look at them. Now you’re not even asking about them,” I pointed out and Bill scowled at me.

Mitch started toward me with a warning, “Mara.”

My head jerked to him then I looked to my cousin who was glaring at me, too far gone to let anything penetrate. Then I nodded and turned to the door.

And as I walked out the door, I heard Bill shriek, “You’ll regret this, you bitch! You’ll regret it! I swear to f**kin’ Christ you’ll f**kin’ regret this!”

I closed my eyes hard and walked swiftly to Mitch’s truck luckily making it there mostly blind.

Mitch came out before the officers led Bill out and we were away.

“Everyone okay?” Mitch asked into the silent cab when we’d made it to Speer Boulevard.

“Oh yeah,” Billy answered with a smile in his voice which made me feel slightly better.