A morning person, an energizer bunny, a momma’s boy, and fuckwit.
Not a good combo.
I unpack my things, taking my time so I have less of it to spend with the freaks who call themselves family. I find it harder than I thought I would. There’s something really permanent about the act of taking your possessions out of a bag and placing them in a wardrobe with the intention that they’ll remain there. Homesickness pangs between my ribs as I fold my T-shirts and jeans. Handling them gives me flashbacks of packing them at my mom’s place in Sydney.
I feel the same thing I’ve felt since the day my parents split; traitorous.
It doesn’t matter where I am, or who I choose. It’s always the same. I can’t make them both happy at the same time.
“You ready for a swim? The water is sweet!” says Luke, swinging the top half of his body into my room, hanging onto the doorframe to stop himself from barging all the way in.
“You go ahead. I’ll be out in a minute.”
When he leaves, I pick at the Van Halen poster above my bed, contemplating ripping it clear down the middle. I can’t make the leap, so I make a small tear on the bottom left corner. It’s not big enough for anyone else to notice, but I know it’s there.
I hear a thunderous splash from outside, followed by an exuberant whoop. I sit on my bed and think how unbelievably lucky orphans are to have no parents.
No parents.
No stepparents.
And best of all, no stepbrothers.
Lucky fuckers. They’re living the dream and they don’t even know it.
After a while I become aware that if I don’t go outside voluntarily, a friendly, well-meaning face is going to peer into my doorway again and drag me out forcibly, so I put on a pair of boardshorts and head to the pool.
Luke and my dad are in the water, tossing a ball back and forth. Rachel is in one of the flower beds attacking a bush with a pair of pruning shears. I find a lounger that doesn’t have a towel on it and lie back, squinting into the sun.
Shit.
Left my sunglasses in Sydney.
My dad throws the ball high and wide. An impossible catch. Luke launches himself at it regardless, abs knotting under his skin, as he goes for the ball with a level of doggedness that borders on madness. The effort sees his chest, belly and a good portion of his shorts emerge clear out of the water. Sunlight glistens on his skin as it hits the droplets of water running down his body. He not only catches the ball; he makes it look easy.
“Nice catch, Sport,” says my dad.
I’m about to start googling the cost of one-way flights to Sydney when I notice Rachel standing beside me, quietly setting down a mug of coffee and a couple of chocolate chip cookies on the side table to my right.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Her voice has a musical quality to it. Reedy and unaffected. It’s the kind of voice that makes it easy to believe what she’s saying. I’ll bet she’s spent years telling Luke what a great place the world is and how everything always works out in the end. She acts nice and all, but in actual fact she probably has quite a lot to answer for.
I take a cautious sip of coffee. It’s black and bitter. No sugar, just how I like it.
Rachel heads inside for a bit and when she gets back, she dives into the pool at the deep end. My dad gets out of the water and moseys on over to sit with me. He looks a little out of breath from trying to keep up with Luke. Rachel picks up where he left off, changing the game in the water to volleyball. It occurs to me that whether they’re doing it in premeditated fashion or not, they’re playing tag-team to keep Luke entertained. Either Rachel is better at it, or she has a lot more experience parenting a boisterous nineteen-year-old. Her ball game is high intensity and has him laughing from the sheer joy of playing with someone who comes close to matching his energy level.
“Aren’t they something?” says my dad.
“Mm, they’re something, alright.”
“I know it’s a different dynamic to what we’re used to. Honestly, it took me a while to adjust. They ran rings around me in the beginning.” He laughs. “I’m sure it will take a while for you, too, but you’re going to love them, Jess. You’ll see. Once you get to know them, you’re going to love them like crazy.”
Over my dead fucking body.
He looks at me with the same sense of wonder he usually reserves for Rachel and Luke. “Can’t believe you’re here. Hardly feels real.”
I do things with my eyebrows to suggest that I, too, am finding it hard to accept this strange version of reality.
