“He says he is. We’ll see.” The disappointment in Dad’s voice is obvious. They argue all the time. Funny thing is, they don’t realize they’re exactly alike. Exactly the same. That’s why they butt heads.
“I’ll text Addie and ask her what she wants for her birthday.”
“She wants a car.”
I laugh. Of course she does. They didn’t get her one last year, even though she was so hopeful. She cried that night, after everyone left her party and the two of us were alone. I held her in my arms as she bitterly complained that our stepmom hated her, and that’s why she didn’t get a car. Two weeks before that, our father bought his wife a brand-new Ferrari. Just because, he said.
Sometimes my father does really stupid things.
“Are you getting her one this year?”
“Already purchased,” he snaps. “It’ll be in the driveway the morning of her actual birthday, with a giant pink bow on top.”
“What kind of car?”
“A white Jeep Wrangler.”
Her dream car. “She’ll like that.”
“Diane’s not pleased. Says they’re not safe.”
“What the fuck ever, Dad. You could buy Addie the safest car on the planet and Diane would still find a way to bitch about it,” I say.
“Watch your mouth,” he warns me. I can tell he’s walking, moving to another room so he won’t talk about the wife in front of the other woman, I assume. “You can’t speak to me like that about your mother.”
“Jesus, Dad, really? That woman isn’t my mother.” He constantly tries to convince us otherwise, and I don’t know why he wastes his breath.
“She’s raised you since you were six.”
Five and a half, but who’s counting? Diane moved in so fast on my
dad. The dirt was still fresh on our mother’s grave and she magically appeared by his side one night, the balm to heal Dad’s wounds after losing his wife in such a tragic way.
She moved in when Addie was six months old. She immediately hired a team of nannies to “take care of the baby’s every need”. Right before Addie’s first birthday, Dad and Diane went on a tour of Europe. Diane had never been before, Dad told me and Park right before they left. He wanted to treat her right and show her the world.
They missed Addie’s first birthday. The nannies held a small party for her, and Park and I were there to watch her smash the chocolate cake with pink frosting and chocolate crumbs coating her tiny fingers. I will never forget that day. How Park and I cried for our dad, our mom, who we still had a hard time believing was dead.
I think that was the last time I ever saw my older brother cry.
“I don’t want to talk about her,” I tell Dad, and from the tone of my voice, I know he understands I mean it. Nothing good ever comes out of talking about Diane. No matter how much he tries to convince us we’re one big happy family.
We’re not.
“Will you go to dinner with us on Addie’s birthday?” he asks, deftly changing the subject.
“Who’s going?”
“Addie insists on bringing her boyfriend.” Dad hates that kid, but I like Trent. He’s good to my sister, and that’s all that matters. “Diane and I will be there, of course. And hopefully you.”
“I’d like to bring someone.” Shit. I have no idea if I can convince Jensen to go to an awkward family dinner for my little sister’s birthday, but I’d like to try.
I’m a sucker for punishment, I guess.
“Of course. Who is it? Someone we know?” He’s hoping it’s a daughter of one of his associates, or neighbor, or golf buddy.
“I met her on campus.”
“What’s her name?”