PRESENT DAY
“This is nice, having us all together,” Mom muses. She glances around the table at us all, a warm smile lighting up her face. It’s the first time we’ve been together as a family of six, rather than a family of five. “We should do this every Sunday.”
“Agreed,” Dave says. They exchange a glance and I swear he reaches for her hand under the table.
“Disagreed,” I add, just for the sake of making things awkward. My smile is beyond sarcastic and I tilt my head down, fold my arms, and stare at my cutlery. I don’t want to be here, especially with Mom and Dave both emphasizing this whole “family” thing. We’re not a family. Dave’s not my dad. Eden’s a stranger.
“How long do we have to sit here for?” I ask soon after we’ve ordered our food. I’m not participating in the casual conversation that Mom and Dave have got going on, but neither are my brothers or Eden. She keeps quiet next to me, and every time I surreptitiously steal a glance at her, she’s twiddling her thumbs in her lap. I stare across the table at Mom and Dave as I loosen my tie. It’s hot in here. “I’ve got better things to do,” I state, even though I don’t.
Dave fixes me with a threatening look, almost as though he’s daring me to ruin this momentous occasion, and his hand tightens around the glass of his drink.
“Stop being so moody,” Mom says, almost jokingly to begin with, but then her expression quickly grows taut and she sits up a little, meeting my eyes. She looks concerned, the exact same way she did earlier this morning. “Did you take your meds today?”
“Mom,” I say with a strain to my voice. Did she seriously just ask me that? Right now? In front of everyone? I steal a quick glance at Eden to see if she’s heard, and of course she has. Now what is she going to think of me? “I’m gonna go get some air,” I mumble, exhaling.
I push myself up from the table and turn away, my pace quickening as I weave my way between tables, my eyes set on the door. It’s Sunday afternoon, so of course the place is packed. I tear off my tie as I push my way through a group of people, desperate to get outside. And as soon as I do, I inhale the longest breath of air I possibly can, holding it in my lungs. Then, I release it and lean back against the wall. It’s clear blue skies today and the sun beats down on me as I glance down at my tie in my hand. It reminds me of Dad.
The older I get, the more I see him in my reflection every time I look in the mirror. I’m starting to look more and more like he did when he was in his twenties and I hate it. Every time I see myself in a shirt and tie, it just brings back memories of when Dad would get home from work, pissed off about something, only to then take out his anger on me. Dad was rarely ever happy when he was wearing a shirt and tie.
There’s no way I’m sticking around here. I want to go home and tear off this damn shirt and grab a beer, then relax. Mom was right. It has been a bad week, and that’s why I’m pleased when I shove my hand into my pocket and realize I have Mom’s car keys. She hates reverse parking, and so I parked up for her when we got here. Nice. I have a getaway vehicle.
Pulling the keys out of my pocket, I head across the parking lot toward the Range Rover. Dave’s Lexus is parked next to it, because as we discovered when leaving the house, as a family of six we no longer all fit in one car. I don’t feel so guilty about heading off in Mom’s now, because at least they still all have a ride home.
I climb into the driver’s seat and sling my tie back over my shoulder. I don’t start up the engine, though, because I end up staring through the windshield at the shrubs lining the parking lot.
No, I didn’t take my meds today. Did I take them yesterday? I don’t even know, but what does it matter? I’ve been on them for years and I still feel like hell, so it’s not like they work. I’m constantly feeling like this, always so low and so bummed out, so I’m over it by now.
There’s a small knock at the passenger window. I snap out of my thoughts and look over. It’s Eden, standing on the other side of the door, staring back at me through the glass. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves and she plays with the ends. Maybe she’s nervous, I don’t know. But I like that she’s come out here. For as much as I figure she hates me, she sure can’t stay away. Maybe she actually gives a shit, unlike most of the people in my life. That’s the only reason I roll down the window.
“What?”
She anxiously steps back, retreating away slightly and putting more distance between us. Probably because I’m in a crap mood, which means I can be unpredictable. “Are you coming back inside?” she asks.
“Screw that bullshit,” I tell her. “I’m not heading back in there.” I turn back to face the shrubs, clenching my jaw. As if I’m going back inside. Not with Mom and Dave trying to turn us into some sort of happy family, and especially not after Mom mentioned my meds. It’s embarrassing, and it only reminds me that I’ve got something wrong with me that pills are supposed to fix.
“You’re kind of melodramatic, don’t you think?” Eden says, and I can hear it in her voice that she’s holding back a sigh. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. She only asked you a question.”
“Are you stupid? For real—are you?” I flash my eyes back over to her. Only a question? It’s a big fucking deal to me. “You don’t understand SHIT, goddamn Eden Munro.” Sometimes I wish people knew the truth, so that maybe they would understand. But at the same exact time, the truth is the very last thing I would ever want people to know. People would never look at me the same.
“There you go again, overreacting about every little thing. I’m trying to understand what the hell is wrong with you, but you treat me like shit every time I talk to you, so forget it,” Eden mutters, rolling her eyes. “Now I’m going back inside, because I’m not a self-centered douchebag who throws tantrums when things don’t go my way.” Without waiting for my reply, she turns around and struts off across the parking lot, her hair swinging. I watch her in the side mirror, and I realize I don’t want her to leave.
God, why does she do this? Why do I like it when she tells me the truth so brutally? Heaving a sigh, I lean across the passenger seat and out of the open window, I softly call out, “Eden!” and pray that she hears me. And she does, because she looks back at me over her shoulder. “Come here,” I gently order. “Come get in the car and I’ll be honest with you, and then we’ll go back inside.”
It’s like it’s an offer she can’t resist, because her eyes light up for a fraction of a second, and then she turns around and walks back over. I start up the engine just before she pulls open the passenger door and climbs inside. “Okay, what?”
Man, I’ve got to stop focusing on her damn lips. I grip the steering wheel a little harder as I stare at her, taking in her gaze. I like that I can see the green of my own eyes in hers. A perfect hazel. I don’t want her to go back inside. I want to be selfish, to keep her here with me, so that I can watch her lips move as she tells me everything I can’t bear to hear.
“Alright, you want honesty?” I ask her. As subtly as I can, I move my free hand to the gearshift. We’re sitting in park. But not for much longer. “Okay. I’m being totally honest right now when I tell you that we’re getting the hell out of here.” I slam the gearshift into drive and step on the accelerator, and Mom’s Rover spirals out across the parking lot, wheel-spinning until it gains some traction. We’re going home, and so I pull straight out of the lot and into the flow of traffic.
“Are you SERIOUS?” Eden screams at me, desperately pulling on her seatbelt as though she’s terrified I’ll drive us straight into the damn Pacific Ocean.
“Not serious,” I say. “Just honest.”
“Take me back,” she orders, pressing her hand to the dashboard. She’s facing me now, those hazel eyes piercing straight through me. Clearly, she isn’t finding our spontaneous getaway as much of a relief as I am.
“You really want to go back there?” I ask her, my eyes flicking to meet hers. I accidentally swerve a little to one side, but I quickly correct it and keep my eyes trained on Eden. “Look me straight in the eye and tell me that you want to go back to that place and eat that gross food and sit with your dad for an hour. Tell me that you honestly want to do that.”
“No. I don’t,” she reluctantly answers, her full, wet lips moving slowly. God, I almost crash the fucking car. “But I know I have to, so go back before they kill us both. Are you even allowed to drive this?”
“Are you even allowed to look like that?” I mutter, mostly under my breath, because it’s seriously beginning to frustrate me, but I say it too loud and she hears me.
She grits her teeth and snarls, “Okay, there’s no need to insult me.”
“It wasn’t an insult, Jesus Christ.” I slam on the brakes as we hit a set of lights, and I look over at her, throwing my hand into my hair. She’s driving me crazy. “We aren’t going back. We’re going home to the house so that I can get a beer and tell you that Jake’s playing you, okay?”
“Thank you, Tyler,” she drawls after a moment, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you for getting me into even more trouble.”
“Last night was on you,” I remind her. She has her elbow propped up on the doorframe now, her fingertips messaging her temple. “Sure, I took you out, but it was you who chose not to come home, so don’t try and call me out for that one.”
“Fine,” she says. “But new problem: Your mom is going to flip when she sees that her car is gone. How’d you even get the keys?”
“Chill out, they’ll all fit in your dad’s car.” The lights flash to green, and I slam my foot straight down to the floor, letting the engine growl. “And I still had them from when I was parking. Now stop distracting me, I’m trying to drive.”
“Try harder.”
Eden doesn’t say anything else after that. She’s too pissed at me to speak, because she keeps her arms firmly folded across her chest and her body angled toward the door, her mouth a scowl as she watches the passing scenery.
I focus on the road as best I can, but I do keep glancing sideways at her every few minutes to gauge how she’s feeling, and when we’re nearing home, I decide to give Mom a call. She’ll be wondering why Eden and I are taking so long to return.
“Tyler?” Mom’s voice echoes across the line. She answers pretty fast; on the third ring. “Are you coming back inside?”
“Hey, so, we left,” I bluntly state, my phone pressed to my ear, one hand on the wheel. Better to let her know. “I’m sorry but we couldn’t care less about eating together as a family. We’ll be at the house.” And, before she can yell at me or beg me to come back, I quickly hang up and throw my phone into the center console.
Eden flashes me a look of disapproval, because she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, her jaw clenched. Then, she turns back to the window for the remainder of the journey, which isn’t long. We pull up to the house five minutes later and I park up quickly.
“Go to my room,” I tell Eden as we’re walking across the lawn. I search my pockets for my set of house keys, swinging them around my index finger. “I’m gonna grab a drink and then we’re gonna discuss that asshole you’re so keen on.”
“I don’t want to discuss anything with you,” Eden says from behind me as I’m opening the front door. I look back at her, and she’s standing several feet back, her eyes narrowed sharply. If she’s trying to be threatening, it’s not working. She just looks cute.
“Go upstairs and go to my room,” I tell her again, turning to head for the kitchen. A beer is all I want right now. “I’ll be up in two minutes.”
I hear the front door close behind me, and then footsteps on the stairs. “Just to clarify,” Eden calls after me, “I’m going upstairs to my room, not yours.”
“I’ll be in your room, then, in two minutes,” I yell back from the kitchen, rolling my eyes. I don’t think we’re ever going to be on the same page, but I can at least hope. I’ll start with Jake, because I’m still not happy that she was with him last night. She might think I keep bringing it up just to be an asshole, but I’m seriously not. She needs to be warned, and as her stepbrother, I should be the one to look out for her. Shit, that sounds weird.
I grab a beer from the refrigerator and pop it open, then make my way upstairs to Eden’s room. She’s awkwardly lingering around by her bed when I walk in, giving me her usual attitude of crossed arms, pouted lips and a glare to match.
“Okay, where to start,” I say. I take a drink of my beer, considering the best way to get the message across to Eden, and then I remember that the truth bluntly delivered is her favorite thing. “Let me simplify it for you: Jake Maxwell is the biggest player of the year.”
“Funny. I thought you were,” she mutters.
Woah. What? Where the hell did she get that idea? I’m a lot of things, but a player isn’t one of them. “No, there’s a big difference between Jake and me,” I state, shaking my head. “Girls want me; Jake wants girls. You know, I don’t purposely go out of my way to find other girls. I just kind of bump into them at parties or whatever, maybe flirt a little, sometimes kiss them if I’m drunk and Tiffani isn’t around. That’s it,” I admit. I take another drink, because now I need it. Eden is listening carefully, her eyes never leaving mine. “Jake, on the other hand, is a player. He leads chicks on for weeks and sometimes even months, sleeps with them, and then never talks to them again. Guy does this with like three girls at a time. I can guarantee you that the second you put out, he’ll disappear. He always does. Pulls out either the ‘Sorry, I’m not feeling it anymore’ or the ‘I can’t talk to you anymore, because my mom’s super strict and says I can’t date until college’ card.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asks, dropping her hands to her hips.
“Because I am,” is the shitty middle-school cop-out answer I give her. I’m telling her because I don’t want her to get hurt. I’m telling her because maybe I’m selfish, because maybe I don’t want her to spend time with Jake, because maybe I want her to focus on me instead. But I can’t tell her that.
“That’s not a valid reason.”
I smile at her. “Neither was my reason for leaving the restaurant.” Taking another swig of my beer, I turn around and walk out of the room.
* * *
It’s later that night that I can’t get to sleep. I’m tossing and turning, but all I can hear is Eden’s voice. She’s been talking to someone for a while on either loudspeaker or video chat, because I can very faintly hear another female voice replying. They’ve been talking about school, and boys, and college. And it’s getting annoying.
I groan and get out of bed, then head out into the hall in the dark and crouch down to grab the Internet router from beneath the hall table. I turn it off, throw the router back, and then walk back to my room. Instead of climbing back into bed, though, I hover by the wall that separates mine and Eden’s rooms. I can’t hear her talking now, which leads me to believe it was a video chat. Thank God I’ve cut it off. I listen for a minute to make sure, and then when I’m certain the call has ended, I softly knock on the wall three times. I don’t know why. I almost do it impulsively, like I’m trying to get her attention.
Several seconds pass while I wait, and then finally a knock returns from the other side of the wall. My face lights up, my features relaxing. Eden’s no more than a few inches away from me, only a wall separating us. I knock back to her, four times, louder than the first.
“Can you stop?” Eden demands. Her voice is slightly muffled through the wall, but it doesn’t stop me from hearing that threatening edge to her tone. And I fucking love it.
“I turned off the internet,” I tell her. “Your conversation was giving me a headache. ‘God, Amelia, isn’t Chicago just so freakin’ awesome? School is my favorite thing in the entire world! It’s so great! I love psychology and homework and studying!’” I imitate, straining my voice to make it higher.
“I didn’t even say that,” Eden mutters, and then there’s a thud against the wall as though she’s punched it or something. She’s probably pretending it’s my face.
I stifle a laugh and press my back to the wall, sliding down to the floor. I stretch my legs out in front of me, tilting my head back to the wall and staring up at my ceiling through the darkness of my room. Just to tease her even more, I continuously drum my knuckles against the wall. “I could do this all night. I heard no one gets any sleep at college, so this is good practice for you. I’ll turn you into an insomniac in no time.”
“Has anyone ever told you how frustrating you are?” Eden asks as her tone begins to soften back into its perfectly deep huskiness.
“Hmm, I don’t think anyone ever has,” I joke. All I do is frustrate people, and Eden is no exception. In fact, I seem to frustrate her more than most. “How am I frustrating? Enlighten me, college girl.” I’m only teasing her, and I hope she knows that. I’m not being a jerk. A jerk wouldn’t be smiling right now.
“For starters, you disconnected the Internet and now you won’t stop knocking on my wall,” she says.
“Technically, it’s our wall.” I knock against it again. I’m sort of wishing it wasn’t there, that I could be looking at her right now. I want to read her expression.
“Either way, it’s extremely annoying. Please stop,” she says, but it doesn’t hold much of a threat to it. Her words seem demanding, but her voice isn’t.
“No can do.” I begin tapping my knuckles against the wall again, over and over and over again. I like messing with her.
There’s another thud, like she’s hurled her fist straight into the plaster, and I burst into laughter. I’m getting to her, and I hate that it suddenly goes silent. She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t knock again. I figure she’s given up, so I heave a sigh and lay my head back against the wall again, listening for a while, hoping she’ll come back. I was craving silence ten minutes ago, but not now. I close my eyes, still sitting on the floor with my back to the wall, and when I open them again, it’s almost 2AM.
I quietly knock on the wall once, but there’s still no reply.
I try again when I wake at 4AM, but there’s no reply then, either.
I even knock one last time at 7AM, but when I fall back asleep, I’m left still wishing she’d come back.