The Butcher is an Idiot

Some drunk chick rear-ended the Butcher on his way home from work. The Butcher, as you may recall, is driving our only car--my car. My car. The Butcher was fucking magnanimous to that drunk idiot. Yes, when she asked him if they just couldn't take care of it between them, and he smelled the booze on her, he said "Just give me your insurance information." Yes, it's very easy to be magnanimous in your sister's car. It's fine. The back bumper is a little dented. But it's fine. I'm just tired of feeling like the only god damned person in this house who is holding things together. I mean, no, it's not his fault she hit him, but god damn, we have one car. We can't lose it. Shit like this just cannot happen. Worse shit than this cannot happen. But you know, we're pretty powerless to stop it from happening. What if something happens to the Butcher? You know, what if I'm all alone here with the cats and the dog and the killer hobos? You think this is a fucked up place now, imagine if I had no one to count on. And yet, the person I count on most is a twenty-five year old idiot who thinks he can coast through life sticking it to the Man by depriving the Man of the Butcher's talents. Tonight, the recalcitrant brother called me to talk again about the Butcher. "You know, I don't want to stick it to the Man, I want to be the Man. I want to be that lazy fucker who sits behind the desk all day while other people bust their asses," says the recalcitrant brother. "The Butcher needs to get his act together. What would he do if you died?" This is disjointed, I know. I fret because it feels like if I worry about all the small things, I can distract myself from the utter terror I feel when I think about how many mammals depend on me, and what a shitty, shitty job I do providing for them. And I just can't do it alone. I desperately need to believe that there's some one watching out for us, that luck, even a little bit, is on our side. Because, if it's just me who's in charge of providing everything for the folks in this household, we're really screwed. And I wish that the Butcher got that, how afraid I am every day that I'm on the verge of failing him, that I'll fuck something up and we won't have money to pay our bills or we'll lose our lease or the car or whatever. I don't want him to want better for himself just because I want more money coming into the household. I want him to want better for himself because, right now, he's depending on me, and I'm not someone you can depend on. I'm not responsible. I don't understand finances. I don't keep house. No one goes to the vet or the doctor as often as they should. The recalcitrant brother wants me to talk to the Butcher about seeing a shrink or going back to school, as if I've got my shit together. As if I'm the grownup. Everything's fine. I know everything will be okay. It's just a little dent and he's not hurt. He's even gone to Walmart to buy more yarn, so I can continue to distract myself from the knowledge that it's just me here, and the fear that sooner or later, my luck will run out.