7
Jake looked up at me, puzzled.
“Where’s the napkin? And the hangover pills?”
“What?”
く
I was confused.
Then I remembered that Jake‘ had started
shouldering the Smith family’s responsibilities
when he was young. He’d been forced to
learn how to socialize, to deal with all sorts of
people in the business world. He inevitably
got drunk often.
Maybe it was a brother–sister thing. I
understood. I felt bad for him.
Whenever there was a party, I’d insist on
going with him. Then I’d wait for him to come
out, give him the hangover pills I always
carried with me.
く
But even the deepest emotions have their
limits.
Jake’s face was dark.
“Your own brother’s doing all this for the
family, and you’re not even worried?”
I lowered my head, a little scared, but I still
shook my head.
“This is what you have to do as the heir to
the Smith family. Why should I worry?”
“You guys can keep drinking. I won’t bother
you.”
<
As soon as I turned to leave, Jake grabbed
my arm.
“You…” His tone changed suddenly. “How did
you get so many scars on your arm?”
His cold eyes softened a little.
I flushed, pulling away, shaking.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I gave you the money, slums is only this
result what you did to yourself?”
He got angrier as he talked.
く
But I couldn’t understand any of it. Wasn’t it
all their fault?
After arguing for a while, he realized he
wasn’t getting anywhere. He sighed and told
me to take a cab home.
“Fine, go back, so you can have some rest.
Η
“Aren’t you just resenting us for sending you
to slums for six years? Now that you’re back,
stop making trouble. You’re making Mom and
Dad worry, you know.”
I nodded. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back.
Maybe… I should have died on the road.
L
But I still wanted to see Grandma one more
time. I hoped I could wait that long…
