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The truth is, I’m glad he came because it would have been hard to force myself to go. Glen called me last week, giving me shit about all the things Troy does that I don’t. Glen was in a frat and so is Troy. Glen played sports when he was young and so did Troy before he got injured. Troy texts his mom every week, and I sure as shit don’t do that with either of them. Why is it always Troy messaging her unless it’s about Sunday dinner? That’s how our little family works.
It’s not something I would ever share with anyone, but I always feel on edge when I’m going to the home Glen moved us into when he married Ellie. It’s like the anger I keep bottled up just wants to explode out of me when Glen is around. At least with Troy playing referee I can focus on him instead of all the other shit.
We’re quiet as we head to Troy’s car. I jump into the passenger seat and watch his shorts rise up his legs when he climbs in. Maybe I should make him shave them next time I win a bet. It’s something else that would be just between us. No onewould know why he did it. The whole thing would be for me, and damn, that shit is the best.
On the other hand, I like him fuzzy too. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before, but Troy does that to me a lot.
“Did you have fun with Danielle Friday night?” he asks after a moment.
“I did. Twice. I’m sure she had even more fun with me.”
Troy rolls his eyes. “You’re so conceited.”
“Why? Because I speak the truth? Because I don’t try to be who people want me to be?”
“I don’t do that, and there’s nothing wrong with keeping the peace.”
Yeah, we’ll never agree there, so I ask, “Did you have fun with that guy who was on your dick all night?”
Troy glances my way, real confusion in his expressive brown eyes. “What are you talking about? There was no guy on my dick all night.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“Not everyone is like you. We were just chillin’.”
“Are you slut-shaming me?”
“No. Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that’s not what I meant.”
I do know that because my stepbro is perfect, and strangely, I like that about him. He isn’t the type of guy who would put someone down for how much they fuck or not.
I don’t respond, and Troy doesn’t push me on it. We don’t talk much the rest of the ride to the house. There’s green as far as the eye can see, the trees zooming by as Troy speeds down the interstate. My fingers beat against my thigh along with the music Troy is playing through his phone. As soon as he pulls into the driveway, a boulder lands in my gut, my whole body already feeling tense.
“You good?” Troy turns the car off, looking at me with a softness in his eyes.
“Fucking peachy.” The handle is warm against my skin as I grab it, then pull it open and step out.
I hear Troy mumble a quiet, “Dick.”
The house is bigger than the one we lived in when Glen was married to Mom. This one is a Georgian colonial with lots of brick and enough rooms for a small army. Glen and Ellie had picked it out together, wanting something completely new that was just theirs, but I’m sure it was really Glen who did the picking. Mom gave in on some things with him, but she would have hated a house this size. Mom liked things simpler. Glen makes good money as the CFO of a tech firm focusing on AI development. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t give a shit whom he puts out of work with their technology. He’s always about appearances, but as a whole, he’s given up on me. It’s mostly Ellie and Troy who try to include me, and again, Glen can always brag about Troy to his golf buddies.
I open the door and immediately smell Italian. It’s Glen’s favorite, and though Troy doesn’t like pasta much, Ellie will do anything to keep my father happy. Can’t they have Italian during the week and not when we come home?
“Hey, Mom, Glen,” Troy says as they look up at us from where they’re sitting in the living room. Football is on the television. I fucking hate football.
“You boys came together? How nice,” Ellie replies.
“It was Atlas’s idea,” Troy says, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to do me a favor by pretending this is something I wanted to do, or if he’s being a dick.
“I doubt that, but nice try. You shouldn’t cover for him,” Glen says. If there’s one thing we have in common, it’s that we both say how we feel, at least to each other.
“Because why wouldn’t I want to spend my day with someone who clearly loves being around me so much?” I throw back. I feel like the only reason he cares that Mom is dead is because he got stuck with me. There’s a whole lot worse I could say, but I stick to that.
“Who’s playing?” Troy asks, and I huff out an annoyed sound. It’s complicated, not liking my father or wanting anything to do with him, but also, a small part of me being jealous that Troy is the son he wishes I were. It’s not often I feel that way, but it creeps in from time to time.
Glen ignores me and starts to talk to Troy about the game. Troy sits on the couch beside Glen’s chair, while I keep off in my own world.
Glen asks him about school—he loves that Troy is going for mechanical engineering, not because he really gives a shit about Troy as much as it’s a bragging point.
