CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I was fidgety, wiping my hands on my legs. I always did that when I was nervous. We walked up the sidewalk as the little solar light trail was turning on with the sun going down. The house was brick, recently power-washed, and clean as always
“I’ll do the talking,” I said to Kael, as we approached the door. “Let me explain why we’re late. WhyI’mlate.” Then it dawned on me who I was talking to. A soldier wouldn’t have a problem being quiet, especially not this one.
I really could have used a shot of tequila, or some magic pill to get rid of the race of thoughts tearing at my mind. Distracted by my anxiety, I started to knock on the white wooden door, then realized what I was doing, opened it, and took my shoes off, suddenly mortified that Kael could see I didn’t have matching socks on. He politely took his boots off, setting them next to my little sneakers.
“One of the many rules in this house,” I whispered to him, and he nodded, looking me in the eyes instead of around the room.
He followed me into the kitchen, which was filled with the aroma of honey and cinnamon, and what might have been ham. It smelled like a holiday.
“Hey! You made it. I was getting a little worried . . .” Estelle greeted me like she usually did. Fake. Whether it was excitement or worry, it was all fake.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I had to stay behind a little at work, um . . . and then I was helping Elodie’s friend. I mean, Austin’s friend. Well, he’s sort of everyone’s friend.” I turned to introduce Kael. I was clearly freaking the hell out and we had been in the kitchen for maybe thirty seconds, max.
Estelle wasn’t doing the best job, either, at hiding her surprise over the extra body in the room. “Oh, well . . . hey. Hi! I’m Estelle.” Her big earrings shook with her head, and I found myself sort of using Kael’s body as a shield from her.
My dad was seated at the head of the table when Kael and I entered the dining room. He might have been reading theArmy Timesor listening to the radio, but no, he was sitting in his king chair in silence. Just waiting. His confused look turned to stone as he stared at us in the entryway. I took him in, sitting there with his craggy face and sparse white hair. It was really thinning now. So was his papery skin. Everyone on my dad’s side of the family turned to snow early. It looked beautiful on the women—at least it did in photographs—but I secretly hoped I would take after my mom, as I always had. She was eternal summer.
My dad moved his eyes off me without any expression on his face and looked at Kael, who took a step back. Instinct or nervousness—who knew? My dad was only a few inches over five feet tall and he was intimidating, even sitting down. He could be soft at times. And when he didn’t want to, he could cut like a knife.
I was waiting for the fallout for being late when my dad finally stood up to shake Kael’s hand, his eyes moving to the name on his chest.
“Martin, nice to—”
Estelle interrupted the conversation as she entered the dining room carrying a bowl with a big wooden spoon sticking out of it. She always wore slightly different versions of the same outfit: jeans with a little flare at the bottom and a button-down shirt with a pattern. With the exception of the fitted dresses she showed off in pictures on her Facebook, she always dressed the same way. I had never really seen Estelle less than put together, even during that first year of their marriage when we all lived under the same roof. My brother and I would come downstairs before school and she would offer us eggs or toast and have fresh coffee left over from my dad, who left early each day for physical training. Her perfect outfits were a kind of uniform.
Today’s top was striped blue and red. She told me once, while staring at both of our bodies in the mirror in the hallway, that she liked to buy these fitted shirts because of the way they flattered her shape. She twisted her torso like a model when she said it, as if she was having fun bonding with her new husband’s daughter. It had been excruciating and made me feel like complete shit about the way I looked. I already had a complicated relationship with my body, and the last thing I needed was my new size-two stepmother telling me how to dress. Bonding for her was triggering for me and I don’t know that I’ll ever have the courage to tell her that.
“So, um, Kael is Elodie’s husband’s friend,” I said, avoiding eye contact with my dad. “And he knows Austin. He’s going to eat with us, okay? He’s locked out of his car.” I didn’t want to go through all the details, so I hoped my fragmented word vomit made enough sense to avoid further questioning.
Estelle motioned for Kael to sit next to my dad. Kael glanced at me, then toward my dad. They shared a look I couldn’t recognize, and as Kael went to sit down, I held my arm out, motioning for him to sit on the other side of me, as I took the chair next to my father. No need for Kael to occupy the hot seat.
“I’m assuming you’ve heard from your brother?” my dad inquired, skipping the niceties and small talk.
I pulled out my phone. “I missed a call from him.”
“He’s on his way.”
“He’s on his way where?” I asked.
“He’s coming here, Karina.” My dad took a long, slow drink of water as I wondered why the hell Austin would turn up at our dad’s house. “He was arrested last night. Neither of you knew about it?” My dad’s eyes were a carbon copy of my brother’s. Bright blue ice.
I half stood up from my chair. “What? For what?”
“I don’t know, exactly. The precinct won’t tell me since he’s over eighteen. If it had been on government property I could easily have found out,” he said and huffed. My dad wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted. I could see the faint twitch of his eye masking the disappointment and shame he was going to pour all over my brother once he arrived.
“And how is he getting here?” I asked. Whatever this incident was that got him arrested, it must have been the reason he’d been calling me on my drive over. And I missed the call. Guilt bit me a little harder.
“Driving.” My dad shrugged.
Estelle sighed, still fussing over her presentation on the table. Moving effortlessly with stealth, she leaned over me to adjust the bread basket and reposition a napkin holder on the other side of the floral centerpiece.
“He’s driving himself?” I immediately had a bad feeling about this.
Dad nodded. “He should be here in a couple hours.”
Kael sat there with an almost diplomatic look on his face. His eyes were tracking whoever was speaking; he didn’t look panicked or stressed or the least bit bothered. Something felt cold and political about his presence.