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This is not how I imagined our reunion going.
Levi pets King one last time, then puts him back in the terrarium. Elijah, on the other hand, gives King nothing but a look of disgust, and I’ve reached my limit.
“Get out!”
Elijah glares in my direction for a lingering moment, then nods at Levi to exit. The second they’re gone, I get up and lock the door before slumping back on the bed, grabbing my phone from the charger to check myself out in the camera.
I swipe away the running mascara from underneath my eyes, then tuck my dark, frizzy hair behind my ears. Glancing at myself through the camera, I only see a trace of my Korean mother staring back at me. I’ve always looked more like my American father, and Mom was pretty vocal about how annoying that is. Something about her having been the one who carried me, then did all the work once I got here. But despite being Dad’s clone, I’ll never forget my heritage. My heart and soul belong to Mom.
She was born in South Korea and still toggles between her native language and English at times. She used to say how much she loved America, especially after meeting Dad, but things are different now. So different that I sometimes worry she’s considered moving back home.
The sad thought creeps in, and I shove it back down, focusing on other things Like how I’m grateful I inherited her taste in food. Specifically, tteokbokki and mandu— the best two dishes to ever grace the earth. It crosses my mind that maybe I could convince Dad and Jessica to give them a try, assuming my old stomping grounds across town are still in business. Using my phone, I find a couple local places and save their addresses in my notes for future reference.
Under my bed, I find an old yoga mat and roll it out, changing into leggings before opening the doors to the balcony to let fresh air in as I stretch. When I finish, a smokey, meaty aroma wafts up through the doors, drawing me to the edge of the balcony where I lean over and find Dad at the Traeger with his tongs and classic grilling jorts. Jessica lounges by the pool with a book and what looks like a mimosa.
“Hey kiddo.” Dad waves the tongs up.
“Isn’t it a little early for barbeque?” I ask.
“I’m smoking a turkey for dinner.” He lifts up the lid and a plume of smoke ascends into the air.
“A turkey?” Jessica sits up from her spot and closes the book on her lap. “I thought we agreed ribs, Steven.”
“The poor thing was on sale, all alone. Begging to be grilled. So, summer thanksgiving. Wear your best attire, Taylor. Not those yoga pants.”
“Can I wear your jorts?” I tease.
“Like you could pull these off.” He shakes his butt and Jessica covers her face with her book. I laugh and go back into my room to turn on the shower. Oh yeah, the best - and I’m serious this time - part of my room is the attached bathroom with clawfoot tub.
The bathroom is already stocked with products, from shampoo to sugar scrub body wash. I take my time showering, shaving every inch of myself until I’m exfoliated and silky smooth. Music fills the room as I saunter around the bathroom, dancing to the rhythm.
A strange thought enters my head. One I’m not incredibly proud of. I imagine Elijah watching me in secret as the dance becomes sensual, staring as I grip my heavy breasts and arch my back. My mind goes to how it felt to lose my virginity to him, how he fingered me first and slowly sucked my nipples. He waited until I was panting and shaking before gliding into me.
I steady myself on the cool granite countertop, bringing myself back to reality, and cringe at my fantasy. He’s my stepbrother now, and I have to get used to that. Problem is, I’d rather imaginehimfucking me than my ex-boyfriend, Jared, who I left behind in California. He wasn’t as gracious or innocent as Elijah, and he always fucked me hard and fast, leaving me wanting.
I suppose, in retrospect, the images of me cheating on Jared that circulated around campus could have seemed real. It’s hard for me to believe I ever told him I loved him after he chose the fake story his douchebag teammate, Michael, told over mine. He couldn’t fathom that I hadn’t cheated, or that Michael falsified the images of me sleeping with another guy after I rejected him outside the locker room. But sometimes, when you reject someone, they’d rather burn your life down than accept a loss. Thankfully, I blocked all of my old friends and Jared on all of my socials before making the drive to Minnesota.
I grind my teeth, staring at myself in the mirror, shaking my head. I’m back home to focus on self-improvement, not boys. I’m back home to focus on my degree in Environmental Science, to officially start classes next week at St. Paul University. Starting now, I’m going to be a different person. Someone who studies, focuses on self-care, someone who fucking aces her classes like the boss bitch she is.
Sliding on my heavy-frame, turquoise glasses, I change into presentable clothes for dinner. After drying my hair and putting on some light makeup, I go down the stairs to meet Dad on the patio. Jessica’s passed out in the sun, one leg propped against the mesh lounger. Dad’s seated on a chair opposite her on his phone, squinting down at the screen.
“This better?” I say, announcing my presence. Jessica’s yappy, beige Chihuahua comes running at me from the lawn. I would normally take a step back, but the little beast can’t weigh more than five pounds.
“Barnacle, get off. Get off!” Dad yells at the Chihuahua as it jumps around me on its hind legs, teeth bared.
“Barnacle?” The question leaves me as I gently fling the dog off my foot.
“Yeah, because he’s like a parasite,” Dad explains, barely looking up from his screen as he adds, “Dinners not ready yet.”
“I’ll make some sides,” I offer, and then head into the kitchen. While there are no ingredients to make mandu, I do find some stuff to make roasted Brussels sprouts and mashed potatoes.
The potatoes boil, and I meander around the kitchen, admiring the various St. Paul University hockey memorabilia and signs. Dad went to St. Paul; Elijah goes there; and I guess now I am, too. But I’ll be the first of the bunch to graduate with honors. I’ll also be the first who won’t be playing for the hockey team: the St. Paul Royals. I suppose, with my 5’9” stature, I could make a good member of the defensive line on the woman’s team, but unfortunately, no one really cares about women’s hockey. I grew up watching every Minnesota NHL game, right up until I moved to California. It was always Dad’s thing, never Mom’s, so it eventually became a thing of the past as life evolved.
I take the potatoes out of the pot and mash them with butter, milk, and sour cream until they’re nice and creamy. Then, I chop the Brussels sprouts, washing them in the sink before sautéing them in olive oil and garlic.
Dad walks into the kitchen, his reading glasses on his head, and his face burnt from the sun. “Smells delicious.” He inhales. “Going to take the turkey off the smoker and wake Jessica from her beauty nap. Can you set the table and get drinks?”
“Of course,” I say, wrapping the potatoes in tinfoil, then he’s off to wake Sleeping Beauty.
