Alan sat on the couch, shoulders hunched forward, hands twisting in his lap. He looked like a man who had been dragged behind a bus and then offered the chance to drive it.
Berta crossed her arms, staring at him with the same expression she reserved for mildew stains. "Alright, Zippy. Out with it. What the hell happened this time? And don't give me that sad puppy routine, I'm low on sympathy and fresh out of biscuits."
Alan opened his mouth, then closed it. He sighed, rubbed his forehead, and looked at Charlie. "You're going to say I told you so."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Alan, I don't say I told you so. I live for it. I savor it. I treat it like a fine wine I keep in the cellar for special occasions. And brother, tonight, I am drinking the whole damn bottle."
Alan groaned and sank further into the couch cushions. "I just… I thought Judith was changing."
Berta barked a laugh so loud the dryer buzzed early. "Changing? Honey, the only thing Judith's changing is her bra size every time she goes 'yoga stretching' with Mr. Downward Dog."
Charlie chuckled and leaned against the arm of the couch. "Wait, wait, I got this. After all that crap she pulled, after she took you for every dime and kicked you into my garage, after I helped you claw your way back… You let her in again, and then you fucked up just like I said you would... Right now, you are regretting every single decision of your life. Am I close?"
Alan looked away, shame painted all over his face. "What am I supposed to do? She cried. She said she missed me. Said we could rebuild our family."
Berta laughed. "Oh lord, he fell for the crocodile tears again! You're like a raccoon that keeps going back to the same damn trap. Snap! Every time."
Charlie held up his hands like he was conducting a symphony. "And let me guess. First few weeks, she was all sweetness, home-cooked meals, maybe even… you know… bedroom charity?"
Alan looked like he'd been asked to swallow a lemon. "Yeah. The first few months were great. Sex was great, and she took care of everything. But..."
"Define 'But,'" Charlie said.
Alan cleared his throat, voice shrinking. "She won't let me touch her. I haven't had sex in the last six months, Charlie."
Berta's jaw dropped open. "Six months? Damn, boy, I've done longer stretches than that just watching cable reruns, and I still had more action than you."
Charlie winced and gave his brother a pitying look. "Six months? Alan, some monks in Tibet are shaking their heads at you right now."
Alan rubbed his temples. "You don't understand. All my money is going straight to her again. Bills, spa trips, her yoga classes. I can't even afford a hooker or a lap dance. The last time I went to a strip club, I could only tip with loose change. You know how humiliating it is to watch a woman pick up quarters off the floor while glaring at you?"
Berta nodded solemnly. "Yep. Did it in my twenties. You never live that down."
Charlie sighed. "So, let me get this straight. She's draining you dry financially, refusing to have sex with you, and spending all her free time at yoga or whatever she's doing?" He looked at Berta with a smile. "See, told you, he'll fuck up in less than a year."
Alan nodded miserably.
Charlie tilted his head. "And you do know she's screwing some guy from yoga class, right? Like, I saw her kissing some guy, probably her instructor, in a cafe last week. They were really getting into it."
Alan froze. His mouth opened, then closed. "What?"
Berta snorted. "Oh, come on, did you really not know? That woman's got more mileage in yoga class than my old Buick. Everybody knows."
Charlie leaned forward, staring. "You didn't know? Alan, it's the oldest cliché in the book. Lonely, bitter ex-wife, limber yoga instructor with abs like washboards… what did you think was happening in those three-hour 'sessions'? She's not finding inner peace, she's finding inner Pierre."
Alan slumped forward, covering his face with his hands. "Oh god…"
Charlie smirked and sat back. "So why not just throw her out of the house? It's not like you're married anymore. Just tell her to pack up her yoga mat and hit the bricks."
Alan stared at the floor, his voice flat. "Yeah, about that. I can't."
Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"
Alan's silence dragged on. He fidgeted. He avoided Charlie's gaze.
Berta raised a brow. "Oh, sweet baby Jesus on a razor scooter. Tell me you didn't."
Alan still said nothing.
Charlie's face twisted in disbelief. "Eeeewww! No. No, no, no. Alan, please, tell me you did not… happen to marry her again after all that."
Alan's silence was answer enough.
Charlie slapped both hands over his face and groaned like he'd just lost a bet with God. "You absolute moron! How many times do you need to get hit by the same car before you stop walking into traffic?"
Berta pointed a finger at Alan, cackling. "I knew it! You're like one of those idiots in horror movies. The killer's in the house, the lights go out, and what do you do? You go upstairs with no flashlight. And then—bam! Dead. Again."
Alan sat up, desperate. "Look, it wasn't like that! She said it would be different this time and we'd be equal. Besides, it was also for Jake."
Charlie threw his head back and laughed. "Equals? Alan, the only thing equal in your relationship is that you both think you're miserable. Except she gets a spa membership and you get dry spells."
Berta shook her head. "I've seen smarter decisions made by squirrels crossing freeways. At least they got instincts."
Alan stood, pacing, running his hands through his messy hair. "I didn't know what else to do! I can't stand being alone, Charlie. I can't stand it. The silence, the empty apartment, Jake barely talking to me anymore—Judith was the only one who… who pretended to need me."
For a moment, the room quieted. Even Berta's smirk softened just a fraction.
Charlie's voice lowered, still laced with sarcasm but gentler. "Alan, she doesn't need you. She needs your wallet and your gullibility. And you, my idiot brother, are handing both over with a bow on top."
Alan dropped back onto the couch, covering his face. "I know. I just… I didn't want to admit it."
Berta sniffed and shook her head. "Pathetic. You'd think after the first six times you'd learn. But nope. Here we are. Zippy's Greatest Hits: Volume Seven."
Charlie sat beside Alan, clapping him on the shoulder. "Here's the thing, buddy. You've got a few choices. One, keep letting Judith suck the life out of you until you're a hollow shell eating ramen in her garage. Two, you grow a spine, lawyer up, and get rid of her once and for all. I doubt you can afford it. Third, divorce her again. She'll take everything again. You'll have nowhere to go again, and I won't help you again. As your brother, I did more than enough. So, yeah, that's it."
Alan sat with his face in his hands, rocking slightly like a man waiting for a firing squad. His voice came out muffled. "Charlie… please. Just… help me. One last time."
Charlie blinked. "One last time? Alan, you've said that so many times the phrase has its own wing in the Smithsonian."
Alan looked up, eyes wide and desperate. "I mean it this time! I'll change, I'll grow, I'll..."
"...make better decisions?" Charlie cut in. "Yeah, I'll believe that when Berta starts doing yoga with Judith's instructor. And believe me, that visual just scarred me for life."
Berta smirked. "For the record, if I ever get on a yoga mat, it'll be to take a nap. And if some instructor tries to adjust my pose, he's going home with a broken finger and a shattered hip."
Alan groaned. "I'm serious. Charlie, I'm drowning here. She's bleeding me dry. My credit cards are maxed, my checking account is overdrawn, and last week I had to return a sandwich because I couldn't afford the extra cheese."
Charlie winced. "Jesus, Alan, that's not broke, that's biblical famine broke. Next thing I know, you'll be trading Jake's baseball cards for gas money."
Alan didn't reply and simply looked away from Charlie.
"Oh, you miserable bastard. Just how low are you going to fall?"
Alan sat up straighter, clinging to the edge of the couch cushion. "Exactly! That's why I need you. Just until I can get back on my feet again."
Charlie leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice calm. "Alan, I rebuilt your life for you. Handed it back with a bow. And what did you do? You went back to the woman who destroyed it in the first place. That's like buying a car that's been totaled three times and saying, 'Eh, maybe fourth time's the charm.'"
Alan threw his arms out. "I just need a hand, Charlie! What do you want me to do? Beg? Because I tell you that I have no dignity left whatsoever, so I'll beg right now, even lick your shoes if that helps."
Charlie sighed, "You didn't just take my hand, Alan. You climbed up on my shoulders, pitched a tent, and started selling snacks to tourists. I am done carrying you."
Berta cackled from the doorway. "Amen. The boy finally grew a backbone." She jabbed a thumb toward Alan. "You, Zippy, got the nerve of a tick. Suckin' blood until the dog notices and scratches you off."
Alan looked between them like a cornered rabbit. "You don't understand. Judith's got me by the throat. She says if I leave, she'll… she'll—"
"Enough. You gotta stop this. We are only talking in a circle. And this is my final answer. NOPE... Nope. You are on your own. I got a life too. I can't carry your mess forever. Go to mom, maybe she'll help and turn you into her slave and suck out whatever little soul you've left in that wrinkled body of yours," Charlie said as he finally stood up and stretched his arms, followed by a large yawn.
Alan buried his face in his hands again. "You're really just going to let me sink?"
"Yes," Charlie said without hesitation. "In fact, I'll sell tickets. 'Come see Alan Harper drown in poor life choices! Admission five bucks, popcorn included.' It'll outsell one of your marriages."
Berta snorted. "And there've been plenty to compare it with."
Alan dug his heels in. "Charlie, please. Just a loan. Just enough to—"
Charlie shook his head. "Nope. My wallet is closed. Permanently. This isn't a lending library for pathetic brothers. This is my life now. I've got a family, I've got a career, I've got happiness. And I'm not letting you screw it up by dragging your chaos back into my house."
Alan's face fell. "So that's really it."
"That's it," Charlie said firmly. "You made your bed. Now you get to lie in it. Alone. With no sex. For six months. Again."
Berta slapped her knee. "Hell, at this point, even the bed's asking for a divorce."
Alan stared at them both, then sighed in defeat. He shuffled to the door, looking every bit like a man headed for the gallows. "Fine. I'll figure it out. Don't come crying to me when you need something, Charlie."
"Now he's showing his true colors. You are one miserable son of a bitch, Zippy. After everything he did for you, this is how you talk to him? Pathetic," Berta said with a disgusted expression and, for once, she looked pissed off. "If he needs help, I'll open my doors for him. He won't have to go to you or anyone for that matter."
Charlie looked at Berta with a warm smile and said, "Thank you, Berta."
"Ah! You don't need to thank me. You helped me when I was at my lowest, and thanks to you, my family and ain't strugglin' anymore. Not to mention, you are even helping Prudence. Heck, I was surprised when she quit smoking and started going to college again. It's all thanks to you. So, you are my family. We take care of each other," Berta said with a serious expression. This was probably the third time Charlie had seen her talk like this.
Charlie gave a nod to Berta and then turned toward Alan. "The day I need something from you, Alan, is the day pigs fly over Malibu. And even then, I'd just barbecue one."
Alan opened the door, stepped out, and closed it softly behind him. Silence settled over the living room for a moment.
Berta let out a long whistle. "Well. That was depressing."
Charlie flopped back onto the couch, grabbing his beer. "Yeah. But at least it wasn't surprising."
Berta shook her head with a grin. "You know, Harper, you've really grown. Old you would've handed him a check just to shut him up."
Charlie took a sip and smirked. "Old me didn't have three women, a kid, and a career worth protecting. New me has priorities."
Berta nodded. "Good for you. Don't forget Prudence, and don't even mention what I just said and go sappy on me. That was just a spur of the moment and I mean it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got towels to fold and a whiskey bottle that needs refilling. Unlike Alan, I know how to handle my addictions."
She disappeared into the laundry room. Charlie sat back on the couch, the sound of the ocean drifting through the windows. He sighed, half amused, half exasperated.
"Ungrateful bastard," he muttered. "He'll never learn."
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