He arrived in no time. He parked his car in front of the house and opened the trunk. There was a huge suitcase there. He took it and closed the trunk
Swindle took out the keys his mom gave him some years ago and opened the door. The house was exactly as Swindle remembered—too small. He walked through the living room and entered his room. It was exactly as he remembered—too small. He left his suitcase there and headed to his mom's room. She, the geriatric Molly Jones, was laying in her bed, half asleep. Next to her, there was a nurse who was checking her phone.
Molly heard some steps approaching and opened her eyes. When she saw her son, she extended her arms and did everything she could not to cry.
"Ringo, my Ringo, you came!"
Swindle approached her and hug her.
"Here I am, Gully," Swindle always called his mom Gully—short for gullible. "Here I am. I just closed a deal, and now I'm going to stay here take care of you."
Gully Jones couldn't repress her tears.
"Ringo, my Ringo, I'm so happy!"
"I know, Gully, I know."
Swindle let go of his mom and sat beside her.
"So tell me, Gully, how are my brothers?" Swindle Jones was the youngest of the four, and he almost never spoke to them. You could say that they were a bunch of strangers to him. The few things he knew about them were the following:
· Their names were John, Paul and George;
· They had studied English literature, art history and psychology respectively;
· They had a master's degree each;
· But this didn't help them to get a better job than college teacher;
· Their work was stable, but their wage was so low the three of them couldn't leave his mom's house.
"You know, working for nothing."
Swindle nodded his head absently and yawned.
"Well, Gully, I'm going to sleep for a bit. If you need anything you know where to find me."
"Oh, Ringo, you get some rest. Don't worry about me."
"I wouldn't even if I wanted to," said Ringo and kissed his mom's forehead. "Good night."
Swindle headed to his room and opened his suitcase. He took out a couple of changes of clothes and stared at the bill stacks that made 99% of his luggage. He took a couple of them, put them in his coat pocket and closed the suitcase. He took off his clothes, put on his pajamas, hid the suitcase under his bed.
And yawned. Only ten minutes in his mom's house and he was already bored to death.
He lied on his bed and fell asleep.