“Easy come, easy go. You gotta have money to make money and if you want to make money, you have to take risks,” dad said, nonchalantly. This is how my father told me he'd lost all his money gambling. I stared at him in disbelief. Though his tone was matter-of-fact, his gaze shifted sideways.
How could he tell me we were “losing it all” with such apathy? Didn’t he feel any guilt? Were we going to have to move? Where was I going to finish high school?
He didn’t realize that mom had already given me the backstory. She had not handed this reality to me on a dainty platter with the essential facts delicately sprinkled on top. It was ugly. She had vomited all the ugly facts at me, every single non-essential detail drenched in her emotional spitfire. I felt gutted, blank, lightheaded. “Oh. And he refinanced the rental. We have negative assets. He owes the casino half and million dollars and our investors another two...” By then she was wailing so hard I could hardly understand her so I drifted off. Disconnected. Out of body. Yet I could feel every last hair on my shoulders and neck standing upright.
Years later whenever I’d lose anything I would find myself saying, “Easy come, easy go,” - may it be a wallet, a competition, or a boyfriend.
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