Trevor jumps in then, and I’m thankful at first. “Cody isn’t around much,” he shrugs and then starts eating again. I’m left puzzled. That’s it? No explanation? We all continue to eat in silence, and I spend the next 20 minutes trying to avoid Cody’s constant stare and the judgmental look on his face.
Shelly stands finally and begins clearing plates. She seems oblivious. Cody is still looking at me, chewing at his bottom lip, with a half-grin, like he’s holding something back. I look over to Trevor, willing him to save me, but instead he stands and heads into the kitchen after his mom, telling me he’ll “Be right back,” without as much as a glance in my direction. Jim follows after, leaving Cody and me alone. Alone!
I’m wrestling with my napkin in my lap, wondering how I can join the others without being rude, how I can get out from under whatever spell Cody seems to have over me, when he kicks me under the table. I look up with surprise, and he’s smiling—barely. “You didn’t know about me, did you?” he asks. I shake my head no, ashamed, not that any of this is my fault. He laughs under his breath and scoots his chair back from the table so he can lean forward and prop his elbows on the edge and rub his temples with his fingers.
I’m mesmerized by the movements of his hands. They’re so strong, rough, and nothing like Trevor’s—which are neat and groomed. His thumb is wearing a thick, silver ring, and there are small words tattooed on a few of the other fingers. I’m trying to read them when I hear him take a deep breath; I instantly feel my face burn. I’ve been caught. I shake my head, looking back at the table.
“Shelly’s my mom. She married Jim after my dad died. Trevor’s my stepbrother. There, now you’re all caught up,” he says, standing and throwing his napkin on the table. He heads to the opposite hall, leaving his family in the kitchen.
“If they ask, just tell them I went to the garage…they won’t ask, though,” he says over his shoulder. Before he rounds the corner, he pauses for a second and looks up, his eyes catching mine one last time before he’s gone. They’re full of something that seems far heavier than sadness, and I’m fighting this foreign instinct to run to him, care for him, and find out what he’s hiding.
I sit there for minutes trying to sort out everything and wishing like hell I had another place to live. When I realize no one is coming back to join me, I pick up my glass and walk into the kitchen. Trevor is sitting atop the counter and smiling, and Jim and Shelly are both doing the same. It’s like a Twilight Zone, as if the dinner I just endured had never happened. As soon as they see me enter, everyone gets quiet and Jim and Shelly leave the room. Trevor starts putting dishes into the washer, so I pick a few up and carry them over to him.
For a few minutes, I think I may be okay with pretending—maybe I can just unravel this mystery on my own, but it doesn’t take long for my gut to tell me I can’t, and I slam a plate down next to Trevor. “Okay, what the hell is going on,” I say, leaning away from him so he can’t distract me. He just sighs, shuts the water off, and leans on the opposite counter.
He twists his bottom lip at first, thinking. “Cody and I…well, we don’t really get along. We’re different,” he stops, I think hoping that I’ll find that to be enough of an explanation, but I urge him on. He rolls his eyes a little and swings his feet as he lifts himself to sit back on the counter.
“Okay, here’s the short version. Shelly’s my stepmom. My real mom died when I was really little, so don’t feel bad. I don’t remember her. I mean, at all. My dad married Shelly about five years ago. Her husband died, and she was working at my dad’s firm. She had a son, Cody. He thinks I’m an ass**le. And, well, he’s real a prick to my dad—sorry, don’t mean to be crass. But he is,” Trevor stops after that, and waits. I try to fit all of the pieces in with everything I already know. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess, I just waited so long to introduce you to Cody, and like I said, he’s not really around much.”
He just stops there, and I feel like I’m waiting on a ledge. His face is conflicted as he stares at me, his hands looped in his pockets now, and his shoulders tense. I can tell there’s more, probably a lot more, buried deep. I’m willing to wait it out, so I match his silence and hold his eyes, nodding forward, and raising my brows slightly to push him.
Trevor takes in another deep breath, and goes back to work on the dishes, I think so he can avoid looking at me as he continues. “Cody’s moving in above the garage,” he says, obviously irritated. “There’s a carriage house up there. He’s a loser, never has any money.”