“Uh, nah. Can’t.” I don’t know who Chase and Gould are, and strongly suspect I don’t want to. “Going to go out with my dad.”
I feel a sense of relief as my dad reverses out of the drive. For a second there, I thought Luke was going to worm his way into tagging along with us. I could tell he was about to ask if he could come, he’d already started opening his mouth when his mom put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle look that saidSweetie, let Jessie and Greg have some father and son time.
He closed his mouth quickly and smiled amiably like the good momma’s boy he is.
My dad and I spend some time walking around Ocean Avenue. It’s charming and quaint. A little too charming and quaint for my liking, but my dad is rapt. He points out store after store with childlike glee, “Look, Jess, we have a…” he rattles off store names seeming truly amazed that an affluent, touristy place like Carmel caters to visitors who are in the mood to burn cash.
I find a pair of sunglasses I like and get in line to buy them.
“Here, let me,” he says.
“It’s fine. I’ve got it.” It’s true. I have my own money. I’ve been working and saving for the past six months.
“You’re a student, Jess.” Drop-out technically, but whatever, I guess. “I’m your dad, let me treat you a little.”
I hand the sunglasses to him, torn between feeling resentful that he’s paying and feeling pissed at myself for not choosing a more expensive pair.
Afterwards, we stop at an ice creamery with cheerful red and white awnings. It’s the type of place that has sorbet made from Japanese strawberries on offer, and gives you the option to top your scoop with edible gold leaf. “You’ve got to try one of their milkshakes, Jess. I’m telling you, they’re next level.”
I briefly consider telling him that I’m not a kid anymore but decide against it when I see a milkshake with three scoops of Belgian chocolate, hot fudge, and organic hazelnuts on the menu.
We chat about this and that. He mentions how happy Rachel and Luke are to have me living with them three times and then gives me an earnest look and says, “How’s your mom?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t call heryourmom.” It’s a pet peeve of mine. What the hell makes people think that the dissolution of a marriage necessitates the addition of ‘your’ as some fucked up faux prefix when they got by for the first fourteen years of your life comfortable enough saying, “Mom’s in the kitchen,” or “Mom needs help with the laundry,” without feeling the slightest inclination to point out that said mother is in fact,mymother.
“Sorry. I won’t do it again. How’s Mom?”
“She seems fine. Good, I guess. Neil’s a nice guy.” Factually untrue. Neil ranks precisely as highly on the Total Douche Bag scale as every other boyfriend she’s had, but I’m tired, I have an ice headache, and I don’t want to get into it.
“That’s good. I’m happy to hear that.”
“Shall we go?”
We talk at length on the way home about the merits of having an afternoon nap versus not having a nap whilst trying to recover from jet lag. By we, I mean him. He talks. I pretend to listen. As it turns out, it doesn’t matter. When we get home, Rachel and Luke are out. It’s blissfully, blessedly quiet. I lie on my bed and close my eyes and enjoy the complete absence of sound. Especially the absence of creaking mattress springs and the freneticfap fapof my insufferable stepbrother jacking his dick.
“Jessieeee.”
The soft, soothing sound comes at me through layers and layers of sleep. I’m snatched out of such a deep sleep I feel nauseated and disorientated. I don’t know what day it is or where I am. I open my eyes and look straight into blue.
Oh fuck.
Now I remember.
Luke is crouching over me, he’s speaking quietly. Sweetly. He has a hand on my shoulder and is patting me supportively. “Time to wake up, Jessie.”
I know instantly that he’s waking me the way his mom used to wake him as a boy. Hell, she probably still does. He probably lets her. For some reason that makes me want to scream. It makes me want to shake him.
“The fuck?” I croak.
He gives me another series of pats, changing the tempo to a gentle back rub when my eyes drop closed again. “Your dad asked me to get you up. You’ve been asleep for almost three hours. He says if you don’t get up now, you’re going to have trouble falling asleep later.”
“Leave me alone.”
A soft chuckle fills the room. “Aw, you’re so sleepy. Come on, I’ll help you up.” He takes my arm and pulls me up onto my feet. His strength is surprising. So is the fact I don’t punch him.
