“One Last Bite”

“One Last Bite”
As I walked past the open door of the room that had been built off the side of the porch a hand reached out and pulled me into the shadows. I started to scream when I heard Bob-Joe’s voice, raspy and low saying “I have to talk to you before you go into see Mamaw. You have got to help me. You just got to.”
“I don’t got to do nothin’, you bastard! Let go of me!” I whispered back, not wanting the help inside with Mamaw to hear.
“Listen, they are looking for me. I owe some guys, not so nice guys, some money. Well, lots of money. You got to understand. They could kill me.” Bob-Joe was now whining.
“Why should I care? You have been trying to squeeze money out of Mamaw for twenty years.” Bob-Joe’s face looked thin and yellow in the dusty streaks of light that filtered in the door. This scarecrow of a man, my twin brother, looked like death warmed over. “You no good son of bitch! Your on drugs again, aren’t you?”
“No, No. I’m clean, four years clean. But I wanted to start a business so I borrowed some money – I couldn’t go to no bank.”
I didn’t believe a word he said. Besides I needed the money. I could start my own private club. I had the connections now. Mamaw had gotten all that money from the accident that had killed Grandpa, Mama and Daddy. She never spent a dime of it, saying it was blood money but she did spend the interest off it. It was about time I got it. Bob-Joe would only shoot it up or gamble it away.
Mamaw had moved from East Texas to Portales and bought this old two bedroom, clapboard sided house that had a room made off the side of the porch for help to stay in. She could have got better but knew how to make a penny squeal she pinched it so hard. She said she liked the dry air, but the truth was her lawyer had moved here to run a ranch he had acquired. She wouldn’t deal with anyone else. Two sisters took turns staying with Mamaw, Maria and Anna Gonzales. Both in their fifties and able enough to help Mamaw get around in her wheel chair she had taken to since the diagnosis of cancer. I could hear their voices in the kitchen.
I pushed passed my brother and called out “I am here. It was a long drive.” “Rat-Jean I am so glad you could come. Too bad your ma and pa aren’t alive to see this day – how beautiful you have become.” She smiled and with a serious face I said mildly, “Now Mamaw, you know they call me Rachel now. I am not a little girl anymore. I brought you some flowers.”
“Oh I will have enough of them in a couple of months at my funeral.” She said as if her funeral was going to be a party. “Your pimp give you enough for this gig?” Bob-Joe snickered from the doorway. “Damn it! I am a cocktail waitress! What you trying to do? Upset Mamaw for her last Thanksgiving?” my voice raising.
Mamaw took the heavy glass on the table beside her and started to pound it. “Enough! Enough! That is all you kids ever did was squabble! I got to rest before dinner. Maria, come help me into bed!” Her voice was getting wobbly.
The dinner table was impeccable; the drone of the air conditioner and Bob-Joe already sitting at the table in a new suit put me on edge. Anna rolled Mamaw up to the table, smiled at us and retreated to the kitchen to retrieve the day’s work.
“ Mamaw, you finalized your will yet?” Bob-Joe blurted out. “This is not the time! You ass!” I hissed through my teeth. “She could die tonight for all we know.” He rebutted. Again Mamaw pounded her glass, “You heathens, heathens I say. I will tell ya all during dessert what I have decided. Now, Bob-Joe how are things in Dallas?” Bob-Joe just got silent, a little paler and muttered, “OK.”
I carried the conversation through the meal with small talk about who performed at the club where I worked, fashions and the like until Anna brought us all a large slice of pecan pie. The room grew silent as we waited for Mamaw to speak. I nibbled at the edge of the crust but Bob-Joe took a huge bit of his pie. “The lawyer advised me to give my estate to the Audubon society...but...” But Mamaw never finished. Bob-Joe drew in a deep breath, sat up straight and started to turn blue. Mamaw and I both stared in shock as Bob-Joe slowly tried to stand and fell to the floor.
“Anna, Anna,” I screamed as I ran to him. “Call 911, Call 911!”
I tried to lift him. I couldn’t. I rolled him over to try to push the air out of his lungs. I pounded on his chest. His eyes were open but had a solid glazed look to them. “Breath dam it! Breath, please you are all I got. You can have the money. Please, Please I love you. You have the money....” I said over and over... until the paramedics pulled me from him.