He leaned down and kissed me, then pulled back, but only by about an inch. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
***
The next morning I was up early, trying not to feel nervous. I just wanted everything to go smoothly; I wanted to feel, at the end of the day, that things had been a success. So it was good that I had a lot to get ready, because it kept me from dwelling on my nervousness for too long. At quarter past eleven, there was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” I said, because Shep was standing at the sink, washing strawberries.
I wiped my hands on a dish towel, straightened my shirt, and took a deep breath. Everything is going to be just fine, I told myself as I walked down the hallway. This is a good step in the right direction.
I opened the door, smile on my face. That smile froze, though, when I saw not just Shep’s mom and dad standing there, but a whole crew of them, including Shep’s brother, Holden.
“Hope you don’t mind that we brought the whole clan with us,” Shep’s mom said.
“Of course not!” I said, though my voice sounded a little too bright. Hopefully they wouldn’t be able to tell. Chances were good that we didn’t have enough food now, but we’d have to try to make do. “Please, come in.”
They traipsed in. First his mom. Then Holden. Then the two uncles, the pregnant girl I remembered from the other day—Jeannie or something. A few boy cousins, maybe early twenties. Shep came out of the kitchen, and by the surprised expression on his face, I could tell that he’d had no idea his entire family was coming over, either.
“Oh!” he said. “Uh… hi, everyone. I didn’t realize that the whole gang was going to show up.”
“I figured my invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail,” Holden said, going over to Shep and throwing an arm around his shoulders. It was disconcerting to see them standing next to each other like that, two people who looked exactly the same. My mind flashed back to last night, to the feel of Shep’s body underneath my fingertips, and I wondered if his and Holden’s bodies were as identical as their faces. Not that I was wondering what it was like to sleep with Holden, at least not in any sense other than a purely clinical one. But as he stood there next to Shep, a grin on his face, he looked right at me and it was like he knew exactly what I was thinking. I looked away, quickly.
“So, this is really your very own house?” Shep’s mom said. She wasn’t looking at me when she said it; she was gazing around, taking everything in. “Not too many trinkets or knick-knacks. But it’s nice. Real nice that you have all this open space.”
“Yeah, I’m not really a trinket sort of girl,” I said, trying to keep a light, friendly tone. I did want to make a good impression here. I wasn’t going to get on my knees and be kissing any ass or anything, but I hoped that when his family left today, they would feel like they knew me a little better; they would feel like they were glad that their son was in a good relationship. I knew I could come across as a little standoffish, even when I didn’t feel that way, so I was going to try everything I could to be as warm and accommodating as possible.
“Why don’t you come on into the living room,” I said. “It’s right this way.” Ugh. I was not a hostess, not by any means. My sister Jenn just had a natural sort of charm to her that could make anyone feel comfortable, but I had most definitely not inherited that characteristic. My voice sounded fake, or at the very least, not genuine. But that’s not how I really felt! I wanted to tell them that. I wanted to apologize for any insincerity they might hear in my voice, because it wasn’t a reflection of them at all.
Unless it was.
Was it my subconscious coming out? I didn’t really feel comfortable around Shep’s family, and I was a little miffed that they’d shown up with so many other people, without even bothering to let one of us know. I mean, who would do that sort of thing? But maybe it had just slipped their minds. Maybe they had meant to call and just hadn’t gotten around to it.
“So, you live here all by yourself?” Shep’s mom asked as she let herself fall back onto the couch. She ran a hand over the arm of the couch. “This is real nice, here. What is this fabric?”
“It’s microfiber.”
“Microfiber,” she repeated. “Fancy.”
The way she was looking around the place it was as if she revered me as some sort of interior-decorating guru, which honestly couldn’t be further from the truth. What it was, I think, was the fact that there wasn’t a whole bunch of clutter everywhere; aside from the necessities, there wasn’t a whole lot of extra stuff. Which was just how I liked it. The fewer things you had, the less there was keep track of, to manage.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a brunch before.” That was Shep’s uncle Devin, who was sitting on the edge of one of the armchairs, looking uncomfortable.
“The food’s almost ready, Uncle Devin,” Shep said. He glanced over at me. “Should we go get everything set up?”
“Sure,” I said. I hadn’t taken a seat because there wasn’t anywhere left to sit; instead I was just leaning in the doorway, and I was glad for the excuse to leave the room.
“We’ll be right back,” Shep said. “We’ll call you guys in when the food’s set up.”
“Yes, sir,” Holden said, a smirk on his face.
I didn’t really like Holden, which I felt guilty about. It was weird to have such opposing feelings about people who looked identical. It was kind of a trip, actually, and it was difficult to fully wrap my brain around it. As I followed Shep into the kitchen, I resolved that I would at least try to set aside my feelings for Holden and really try to get to know him today, maybe find some common ground between us that we could relate to. That was the best way to try to bridge these sorts of things, I knew from past experience. I wasn’t very good at making idle chit-chat, but I would try, if for no other reason than I wanted to at least be on neutral terms with Shep’s family.
“I really had no idea—” Shep started to say in a low voice once we were both in the kitchen. But I barely heard him because I was opening the oven door and seeing that one of the quiches had somehow cooked faster than the other, and was, in fact, mere seconds away from burning.
“Shit,” I said, grabbing the closest thing to me, which happened to be the dish towel. I wrapped it around the glass pie dish and pulled it out, immediately feeling the flimsy fabric of the dish towel absorb the heat and start to burn the palms of my hands. I practically threw the quiche onto the stovetop. I peered into the oven at the other one, the quiche Lorraine, which looked okay. I retrieved the potholders and extracted that one out, too.
“Well, one of the quiches got a little messed up,” I said. Shep came and stood next to me, carton of orange juice in hand.
“That one?” he asked, pointing. “I think it looks fine. It’ll taste great.”
I appreciated his optimism. I let the quiches cool a bit before I brought them out to the dining-room table. I slowed my stride as I passed the living room; I could hear Shep’s family talking.
“I do like that there’s so much space.” I didn’t know who said this—probably the cousin, Jeannie, or whatever her name was.
“Well, sure.” This was definitely Shep’s mom. “There’s just one of her living here. I wouldn’t expect that it’d be full of a bunch of stuff.”
“She certainly seems like she’s done all right for herself.” This was maybe Shep’s dad, or one of the uncles; I wasn’t sure.
“Gotta watch out for a woman like that,” came another male’s reply, followed by some boisterous laughter. I tried to refrain from doing an eye roll as I continued on back to the kitchen.
Finally, we had everything set out. I rarely ever used the dining-room table—I couldn’t actually remember the last time I had—but I stepped back for a moment and just appreciated how nice it looked. I didn’t have a tablecloth, but the night before, I had wiped the table down and the honey-colored wood gleamed. There were the two quiches, the fruit salad, fresh muffins from the bakery, bagels with lo
x and cream cheese. The coffee carafe stood beside a glass pitcher of orange juice, the sugar bowl, and creamer. It all looked really nice, almost like it wasn’t even my home. The only bad thing was it sure as hell didn’t look like there was going to be enough food for everyone.
Shep’s family came bustling in, and his mom did crow about how nice everything looked.
“Now, did you do this all yourself?” she asked.
“Shep helped,” I said. “I certainly can’t take all the credit myself. And the lox are from the little organic market a few blocks away. I wasn’t out on a fishing boat catching salmon, I’m afraid.”
“Lox?” This was one of the uncles—Frank, I think.
I pointed to the platter. “That stuff right there Some people like to do cream cheese and lox on a bagel. It’s not my favorite, but it’s pretty standard brunch fare.”
Did that just sound completely pretentious? I hoped not, because that certainly wasn’t how I meant it, but I could see how someone might take it that way. They all just stood there, looking at the table.
“Well,” I said, “everyone can sit down.”
We had brought a few chairs in from the kitchen, and everyone squeezed around the table.
“Where’s the bacon?” Shep’s dad asked.
“I’m afraid there isn’t any this time,” I said. “I actually meant to grab some but I forgot.”
“Must’ve been too focused on the lox,” Holden said. He had somehow ended up next to me, which I supposed was a good thing, given that I was going to try to find some common ground with him.
“Do you like bacon?” I asked.
He stared at me. “Who doesn’t?”
“I don’t eat it,” Shep said.
“Yeah, but that’s because you’re a food freak who drinks weird smoothies with, like, vegetables and shit in them,” Holden said dismissively. “Every sane person I know loves bacon, because bacon is delicious. And should definitely be considered one of the four main food groups.”
It was Shep’s turn to smirk, just a little. “There’s five main food groups.”
Holden grinned. “Yeah, there is, after they add bacon!”
“Oh, boys!” Shep’s mom beamed at me. “They have always been like this,” she said, as if I was supposed to find this sort of juvenile bantering cute. I mean, maybe it was, a little bit, but it was also a little hard to take, the two of them being grown men and all. Really, it was because I thought Holden was obnoxious, and him calling Shep a “freak” didn’t really sound like he was joking at all.
Settle down, I thought to myself. You’re trying to make nice here, remember?
“I’ll definitely make sure that I remember the bacon next time,” I said, looking at Holden and smiling.
I waited to serve myself until everyone else had taken what they wanted; there was only a bit of fruit salad left. Shep, who was seated at the other end of the table—so about as far away from me as you could get—saw that I had a few pieces of cantaloupe and some strawberries on my plate, as he surveyed the empty pie dishes, the crumbs left on the platters.
“Here, let me give you some of mine,” he said, standing up and bringing his plate down to me as the rest of his family dug in. But he barely had any food on his plate, either; just a sliver of quiche, some fruit salad, and half a blueberry muffin.
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “Please, go sit down. I want you to enjoy it. I’m really not even that hungry anyway; I had all that coffee earlier.”
Even the plate of lox was empty, though as the meal progressed, none of them touched the fish they had heaped onto their plates. I was surrounded by sounds of chewing, slurping, lips smacking. One of the uncles took a drink and dribbled orange juice down the front of his shirt, though he barely seemed to notice and certainly did nothing to wipe it up. I tried not to stare. Was this really happening? Was I really sitting in my own house, around my table, with this group of people? It might’ve been funny if it wasn’t so unbelievable, or if it was happening to someone else. I watched as his mother removed the lox she had placed on the bagel, scraping it off like it was dog shit someone found on the underside of a shoe, before she proceeded to eat the bagel with just the cream cheese.
I sighed. I had a feeling I could have saved myself a lot of trouble and just gotten them all egg McMuffins and they would’ve been much happier. I tried not to think about all the planning and preparing that had gone into this.
“So, uh, did you go to chef school or something?” Holden asked. “This quiche here tastes like something you’d get in a restaurant. You know, one of those fancy places where they serve you tiny portions on a huge plate.”
“Um, thanks,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “I didn’t go to chef school. One of the guys I work with, Jason, he’s really into cooking and he taught me a couple of easy recipes that he said were sure to wow a crowd.”
Holden leaned back in his chair and looked around the table. “Well, crowd,” he said, “are we wowed?”
There were a couple of grunts, a few nods; only Jeannie bothered to say anything out loud: “I sure am!” through a mouthful of food.
I smiled, though I knew it was wan, the annoyance probably clear on my face. I tried to temper it by spearing a cube of pineapple and eating it.
“So, Jason,” Holden said. “He’s giving you cooking lessons?”
“It was a while ago. It wasn’t like an ongoing thing or anything.”
Holden shot Shep a skeptical look. “That sounds rather… intimate.” I blinked, not quite believing that I was hearing what he was saying. I mean, of course I heard it, but it didn’t quite compute that he would come into my house and then proceed to insinuate such things.
“Holden,” Shep said, a warning note in his voice.
“I’m just curious, is all,” Holden said, widening his eyes and giving both of us an innocent puppy-dog look. “I mean, I sure as shit never got any cooking lessons from any girl I was sleeping with.”
“That’s probably because none of the girls you’ve ever slept with know how to cook,” Shep fired back.
“Yeah, yeah—dumb and hot, that’s how I like them,” Holden said. “So my brother and I have opposite taste in women. That’s actually a good thing, you see, because it’s meant we’ve never had to fight over the same girl.”
The opposite taste in women. So he was insulting me, in my own home. Did I actually care what he thought? No, not really. Did I want to start some sort of verbal fracas right now, with his whole family sitting here, just because he’d basically insinuated that I was the opposite of hot? No again. I kept my mouth shut, though the desire to find any alleged common ground between us had rapidly evaporated.
“Why don’t we just appreciate Lena’s cooking for what it is and not ask about the details,” Shep said. “I think everything’s delicious.”
“Just trying to find out a little info, bro, is all,” Holden said. “You know, such as if these cooking lessons are still happening. I’d think you’d want to know something like that.”
“Like I said, this was a while ago, and he’s a co-worker of mine. Things have always been completely platonic between us. If anything, he’s like an older brother to me. He just had a baby with his new wife, whom he is madly in love with, might I add.” I said all this with far more patience than I actually felt. I set my fork down and looked Holden right in the eye. “I almost feel as if you’re questioning my feelings for your brother.”
“Not questioning,” Holden said. “Just trying to get to the bottom of a few things, is all.”
No one said anything for a moment, the tension settling in the room, thick enough to cut with a knife and serve on a plate. The silence probably would have continued indefinitely, except one of the uncles let out a belch, and then asked if there was any beer.
Things did not exactly improve from that point, though they did not get any worse, either. So that was good, but Holden and I never found that “common ground” that I was so hop
eful we would, and by the time they left, I couldn’t say that I liked Shep’s family any more than I had before, or that I even felt like we had really bonded at all. It was, in fact, a huge relief as I watched them walk down the front steps. I would never tell Shep this, but I would be completely fine if I never had to see any of them again.
“Shit,” Shep said as we watched them get into their various vehicles and drive away. “I had no idea it was going to be all of them. I’m really sorry. And I don’t know what the hell was up with my brother. I’m really sorry about that, too.”
I could tell by the look on his face that he meant it, that he felt worse about it than he was probably letting on. But I felt bad for him, because here he was, once again, apologizing for his family.
“You certainly don’t have to apologize,” I said. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting all of them like that, but I think it went all right. You know, there were some moments, but overall it wasn’t so bad. It definitely could’ve gone a lot worse.”
“Yeah, there was no brawling,” Shep said with a tiny smile.
“The only brawling you should be doing is when you have your next fight,” I said. “That’s what you should be focused on.”
“At least let me make it up to you,” he said, sliding his hand up my shirt. And how could I say no to that?
Chapter 12
Shep
I didn’t think too much of it when my mother called and asked if I would go over there on Sunday. Yet when I arrived, I found everyone there, except for Uncle Devin, crammed into the kitchen, Uncle Frank leaning up against the kitchen counter because there were no seats left at the table. Well, there was one, which Dad held his hand out and motioned for me to sit in.
“What is this?” I asked. “I feel like it’s some sort of intervention or something.”
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