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July 26 - December 27, 2023
“Come on,” says my dad, giving me a gentle nudge on the shoulder, “Rach and Luke will be champing at the bit to see you.” Champing at the fucking bit? God help me.
It’s clear no amount of effort has been spared putting the room together. Hours of thoughtful consideration have been given to every object that meets the eye. It strikes me as the type of thing you’d expect to see on the set of a popular daytime TV show. Stage 5: Bedroom of Jessie Lewis – Beloved Stepson/Troubled Misfit. I hate every single thing about it.
“Haven’t you just finished eating?” “That? Nah, that was my first breakfast. Plus, it’s Saturday today.” He looks at me kindly, as if I’m very sweet but a bit clueless. I’m finding it a real challenge to keep up, so maybe I am. Clueless, that is. Fuck knows I’m far from sweet. “What does that mean?” “Pancake Saturday, bruh! Your dad makes the best pancakes ever.” What now?
“Maybe we should all go for a run?” suggests Luke. I’m trying to reserve judgement on this guy. I swear I am. My dad’s married to his mother, there’s nothing anyone can do about that. We have to get along, but if he’s going to go around saying dumb shit like that in my presence, I can’t see myself being able to be around him for any length of time. I really can’t.
Who the hell is this man and what has he done with my father?
A morning person, an energizer bunny, a momma’s boy, and fuckwit. Not a good combo.
“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.
“Your dad is the only dad I’ve ever known,” he says lightly. He turns his gaze and fixes me with an overly intimate smile. “Thanks for sharing him with me.”
I have no doubt about it; what I’m watching is tantamount to the seduction (and or sexual assault) of a yogurt lid.
“W-what’s up with you and the yogurt anyway? Why’d you eat it like that?” “Like what?” “Like you’re some weird fucking yogurt sex maniac.” He smiles easily. His eyes glint. “I’m not a sex maniac.” He lowers his voice, tucking his chin to his chest conspiratorially, looking up at me with those big baby blues. He hesitates for a second, then says, “I’m a virgin.”
The only thing stopping me from getting Gould in a headlock, dragging him to the ocean and liberally waterboarding him, is societal norms. I toy with the idea anyway. Surely, if I called him Bud as I did it, I could use ‘I drowned him as a friend’ as part of my defense?
She smiles at the ocean and then smiles at me. “That’s quite the step bro situation you have there,” she says. I almost choke on my beer, but I manage to recover with only the slightest of watery eyes. “You’re one to talk. What’s with the gamer geek fetish?” She shakes her head and emits a throaty laugh. “The fuck if I know.”
“How’d I figure? I’ll tell you how I figure. I know my value, that’s how. And you’re not going to talk to her like that,” I point furiously back to where we’ve just been, “and talk to me the way you talk to me through the wall.”
I find it physically painful to pretend things are normal between us. I feel like I’m playing a part; Luke Bennet, happy-go-lucky small-town boy who loves his mom and thinks people are inherently good. Even though I have years of experience living this very role, it feels foreign to me now. I’m clutching at straws, constantly trying to think what my normal reactions and responses would be.
Sad boy with soulful eyes and sex in his veins.
