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TAYLOR CROMWELL
After a grueling two-day road trip from San Jose, I pull up to Dad’s mansion in my beater sedan with King in the passenger seat.
I take a breath and pray to God no one’s home. Minnesota already feels different than I remember from high school. With the unusually hot weather, and neighborhoods that look straight from Beverly Hills, this is feeling weirder than I thought it would. Before I can step out of the car, I see my stepmom, Jessica, swing one of the double French doors open and rush out to greet me.
Jessica prances over in high heels and a lipstick-painted smile. I grab King from his box and meet her outside in the driveway. She reaches out to hug me but is hesitant to touch King who wraps himself around my shoulders like the good little snake he is. I smile at her obvious discomfort towards my sweet yellow python.
“Taylor!” she exclaims and pats King awkwardly on his back. I hold back my laugh.
“Jessica, it’s so good to see you.”
People take a look at this house and assume my dad is the breadwinner. But if you compare Jessica to my dad, side-by-side, it’s obvious that she runs things, that she makes the money. He is never a man to be intimidated by a strong woman. In fact, I suppose he prefers them.
Considering he cheated on my mom for her.
Some people wouldn’t blame him. She’s rich, she’s beautiful, and from the brief time I've spent with her, she’s kind. But a woman like that has to have some secrets.
Even though living with Jessica goes against everything I stand for in terms of loving my mom; I don't have much of a choice after being bullied out of my last university.
If Jessica’s home, Elijah could be, too.
“Just you home?” I ask as I walk to my trunk to grab my bags. She trails behind me and yanks my suitcase out. I’m impressed by her strength for being more of a twig than a person.
“Just me,” she huffs, pulling the suitcase behind her as she walks to the house. I follow her with my backpack. “Steven–your dad–is at work right now and Elijah’s at a friend's house. But we’re all so glad to have you.” She pauses in the foyer below the grand staircase. “We’re glad to havebothof you here.”
I take in the pristine house with hockey memorabilia everywhere from St. Paul University and the NHL.Cozy.
She places my suitcase at the base of the stairs and instructs me to follow her through the marble-laden house. I walk through the spacious living room with a two-story fireplace and an ostentatious grouping of various suede furniture. We walk down a hall through the west side of the house adorned with paintings and multiple offices and rooms. She then guides me up the stairs, somehow lugging the suitcase behind her until we get to the room they’ve made for me.
“This is you,” Jessica says, with the same wide smile. I can't tell if her smile is sincere or not, but I'm too tired to really care. I decide I’ll unlock the secrets of Jessica Cromwell another day and focus on settling in.
I wait until I can no longer hear the click of her heels on the floor before I close the door and take in the room. I'm surprised to find a beautifully made queen-sized bed with the fluffiest white comforter I’ve ever laid my hands on. Across from the foot of the bed are double glass doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the pool in the backyard. I could get used to this.
King squirms in my grip and that's when I realize I missed the best part of the room. Filling up almost a third of the space is a terrarium for King, filled with authentic-looking decor, toys, and everything a happy snake could ever dream of. As if he knows, his head stretches out toward one of the side doors. I open the panel door for him, and he slithers in and nestles into the bedding of the tank. I laugh as I notice the background of the tank taped behind the enclosure, an ice hockey rink. Classic Jessica.
King disappears into his terrarium completely as I swing open the doors to the balcony. I walk my way across the wooden floor to the glass railing and take in the scenery of their acre-wide backyard.Myacre-wide backyard. An oversized pool sits center among a grouping of furniture, gazebos, and perfectly manicured bushes. The heat feels good on my skin, reminding me of California. I already miss the small apartment I shared with Mom for the past several years. I already miss her late-night laughter and cereal-making in the kitchen. But I definitely don’t miss my last University.
After unpacking my clothes, I sprawl on my new bed and call Mom, eager to share everything with her about the drive, my room, and King’s new paradise. I leave out the part where I’ll be sharing a house with the guy I lost my virginity to, the guy I now have to call mystepbrother. I fight the bile in my throat and determine that if I were to live in this house, I would have to avoid Elijah at all costs. But, with a room like this, I can do that. I can do that easily. No fucking problem.
I spend the rest of the day napping, texting, and searching for King in a new hiding space. I turn on the TV beside the balcony and watch as the sun sets over the tree line beyond the yard. My stomach growls and I finally work up the courage to go downstairs, hoping that it's still only Jessica home. I assume Dad will be home any minute, too. I creep down the stairs, making sure not to make a sound in case I have to dash back up. But to my surprise, the house is quiet, illuminated by the soft orange colors of the sunset. The colors dance off the marble floors and intricate area rugs, reminding me of the sunsets over the Pacific.
“Anyone home?” I say, reaching the last step.
“There’s pizza on the counter,” Jessica yells from somewhere downstairs.
The front door swings open and Dad steps in, wearing a classic button up and slacks. Not quite the man I remember who would work late shifts providing for the family.
“Taylor!” he yells, and I run up to him to give him a hug. He smells like sandalwood and cola. I remember that. I look up at him, at his graying hair and the deepening lines beside his eyes. Dad’s tall like me, and I’m glad I got that specific gene from him instead of Mom. After so many years, even after the infidelity, he somehow still feels like home. I follow him like a puppy to the kitchen where the two boxes of pizza from Bellagio’s sit on the counter.
“Bellagio’s,” I laugh, grabbing a slice, “I forgot about this place.”
Jessica walks into the kitchen, her hair now in a messy bun and heels off. “Yep, Elijah still goes after almost every game.” She grabs a heavy slice with her manicured fingers. “It somehow never gets old, right, Steven.”
Dad grabs us plates from the cabinet and nods his head, mouth full of supreme. He leans in and kisses Jessica on the forehead, mouth still full. She recoils and laughs at his sloppiness. I take a slice, and then another, until I'm stuffed.
“How was your drive? I forgot to ask,” Jessica says, pulling down three wine glasses. Dad sits on one of the barstools and rubs his stomach dramatically.
“Surprisingly good. I mean, I had to sneak King into the hotel when we reached the border of Wyoming and South Dakota.” I sit down by Dad as Jessica grabs a bottle of red. “But, other than that, it was pretty uneventful. A lot of corn, a lot of nothing on some of those roads.”
