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  Spoiler bulimia

  [colpse]Samantha

  I sat in Paul’s hospital room, holding Eli’s hand while we watched my uncle eat the rabbit food they’d given him for lunch. He was fucking miserable, his face scrunching up with every bite, but at least he was eating it. “I hate everything about this,” Uncle Paul said in between bites of his undressed sad.

  “Really? Couldn’t tell,” Eli deadpanned.

  Uncle Paul chuckled in spite of himself. “Gd to see the past few months haven’t robbed you of your sense of humor.”

  “It’s one of exactly two things I have left,” Eli said with a sad smile.

  Guilt stabbed at me, straight through the chest. I forced myself to disregard it- I was not going to be a narcissistic bitch who made this about her and her shame. We were here for my uncle. And we needed to have a difficult conversation. Possibly the most difficult one any of us had ever had.

  “How’s the shop doing?” Uncle Paul asked.

  “Honestly, not terrible,” I said. “We’re squeaking along- Eli’s magical salesman powers are definitely helping-”

  “You’ve been closing lots of sales tely too, babe,” he said.

  “But we’re not really making much of a profit, either. Your hospital bills are, uh-”

  “Astronomical?” Uncle Paul asked.

  “Yes,” I breathed out. “And between rent on the pce, bills, groceries, the fact that Eli’s had to buy entirely new clothes because his parents sold all his stuff-”

  “Fucking hellfire,” Uncle Paul said. “When I get my hands on those two-”

  “Easy there, killer,” Eli said with another ugh. I couldn’t help but hear bitterness in it. “I’m fine, seriously.”

  “And besides, there’s, uh, another person who you’re gonna have that reaction to today, so maybe let’s pace ourselves, yeah?” I said, smoothing my bck skirt furiously.

  “What does that mean?” Uncle Paul asked.

  “Well-”

  “I believe that’s a good enough entry line for me,” Callum said as he stepped in from the hallway.

  By some miracle, the heart rate monitor Uncle Paul was hooked up to didn’t instantly spike the second he id eyes on his younger brother. Less miraculously, Paul threw his sad at Callum. Callum failed to suppress a wince.

  “You!” Uncle Paul shouted, expectedly.

  “You?!” Eli excimed, not so expectedly.

  “You?” Callum said, looking my boyfriend square in the face.

  “Huh?” I said, looking back and forth between all three of them.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?!” Uncle Paul hissed.

  “You’re that weird white guy who gave me terrible advice a year and a half ago,” Eli said.

  “What?” I said.

  “The advice was terrible?” Callum said, using his kerchief to wipe his face. “How so? I think it was pretty good.”

  “Less good when the family you’re advising me to hang onto is toxic and abusive and terrible,” Eli said. “Please don’t tell me you were actually Samantha’s father the whole time.”

  “Uh… I’m afraid so,” Callum said with a ugh that looked incredibly practiced.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you two have already met,” I said. “How exactly did-”

  Eli, with a deep breath, gave me the cliff notes.

  “So, you’re the young man who’s stolen my daughter’s heart, then,” Callum said.

  “She’s not your daughter,” Uncle Paul grumbled. “She’s mine.”

  My own giant heart nearly melted at those words. That had always been the unspoken reality of Paul and I’s retionship, but… It was different, hearing it out loud. It was nice. Unfortunately, it would make the groveling I was gonna have to do today a bit harder.

  “That’s an entirely reasonable perspective on the matter, Paul, and I’m not trying to cim to be anything I’m not,” Callum said.

  Huh. Never mind, maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult-

  “That’s good, but that still doesn’t expin what you’re doing here, you punk bitch,” Uncle Paul said. “I thought I made it clear that you were never to show yourself to me again.”

  No, no, it was gonna be incredibly difficult.

  “Look, Paul, I get where you’re coming from,” Callum said. “But I’d like for you to at least hear me out. I want to help.”

  “I don’t want your help, and neither does Samantha,” Paul said. Then he looked at me and said, “Right?”

  I opened my mouth, but didn’t make it all the way to saying something.

  “Right?” Paul echoed.

  A low groan was all I managed to achieve in terms of vocalization.

  “Right?”

  “Look, Paul,” Eli said. Oh thank God. “I don’t wanna be the bad guy, but if the past few months have taught me anything, it’s that sometimes, brutal honesty is the best policy. And to be brutally honest here: you need an operation, and insurance won’t cover it, and you don’t have the money to pay out of pocket. Callum is making us an offer-”

  “I will not take charity from this deadbeat wannabe politician,” Uncle Paul barked.

  “It wouldn’t be charity,” I finally managed to force out. Were my hands trembling? Yeah, my hands were trembling. Oh dammit, this was… Okay, okay, breathe, breathe Samantha, just breathe. You can do this. “Callum has offered to pay for your operation in exchange for… For something from me.”

  “And what’s that?” Paul asked.

  “Just a chance to prove myself,” Callum said. “I want to be part of my… Part of Samantha’s life. What I did… It was beyond the pale. Genuinely fucking evil. But if there’s anything at all I can do to make up for it, I want to try.”

  “So you’re pressuring her into spending time with you and using my life as a cudgel?” Uncle Paul said, sitting up, bunching his fists together.

  “That’s not what this is, Paul,” Callum said.

  “Bullshit, it’s not!”

  “It was my idea,” I said between tortured heartbeats. “He offered to pay for your heart surgery with no strings attached. I suggested giving him a chance to be a part of my life as… As a bargain. Because I don’t want charity from him either.”

  Uncle Paul looked at Eli and said, “You’re okay with this?”

  “I’m not really sure I get a say,” Eli said.

  “But what about the part where he gave you terrible advice?”

  “I mean… It was pretty shit advice, yeah,” Eli said.

  “Hm,” Callum said, eyes narrow and his practiced smile wide.

  “But also he didn’t really know the full context of my situation. He was just… Some guy I met outside of the shop one night. We talked for maybe five minutes,” Eli said. “And like… In most cases, it’s probably not bad advice. Knowing now who he is, I can see why he said it. Plus, I was still in high school; I was a minor. What was I supposed to do, get emancipated?”

  “Er… Fair point,” Uncle Paul conceded. “Still… I don’t know if I like this.”

  I sighed, pinched the bridge of my nose, and put my hand on my uncle’s shoulder. “Look, Uncle Paul. It’s your life. It’s your decision. But please, I am begging you to at least consider it. It’s either this or a bank loan or we mortgage the house. Those are the options right now.”

  Paul stared past me, at his brother, for a silent, subjective eternity. God, I’d never been caught in the crossfire of something this tense. Even on Mom’s worst days, there wasn’t this… Inescapable, unspoken dread lingering in the room.

  “Tell you what,” Callum said. “Let’s start with something small. I’ll take care of your outstanding hospital bills. In exchange, Samantha comes over to my pce for dinner tonight. And we take it from there. Does that sound reasonable?”

  “C… Can I bring Eli?” I said, grabbing my boyfriend’s arm. “If- if he wants to come-”

  “I’d like to go with you,” he smiled. Hmmm, Eli. My heart.

  “Then he can come,” Callum said. “Paul? What do you think?”

  I turned to my uncle (to my real father, for all practical purposes) and gave him the biggest, most powerful attempt at puppy-dog eyes I could muster. Finally, mercifully, he said, “Okay. Fine.”

  The tension didn’t all dissipate at once; there was no popping of it like a balloon, or anything like that. But at the very least, it went down a few notches, and if that was the best I could get, I would take it.

  “Fantastic!” Callum said, csping his palms together with a small shock of noise. “Samantha, I’ll text you my address. You and Eli should arrive at my pce by 6:30. Wear something nice, yeah?”

  “I’ll… I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

  “Fantastic,” Callum repeated before bidding us adieu with a slight wave and that ever-so-rehearsed smile.

  When he was gone, Paul, Eli, and I sat there in silence for a while. The only noise was the beeping sound from Uncle Paul’s heart rate monitor. My hands bunched up my skirt while Eli rubbed my back in a smooth, circur motion.

  “I don’t like this,” Uncle Paul said.

  “I don’t either,” Eli admitted.

  “I’m not crazy about it myself,” I said. “But I don’t really see another way forward. At least not right now.”

  Paul breathed out in a harsh whisper, “I know.”

  I held a gulp in my throat, then swallowed and said, “I don’t want you to die, Dad.”

  Paul… Dad blinked rapidly, looking me square in the face. “I don’t wanna die either, kid. I really don’t.”

  ***

  “What do you think of this? Formal enough? Too formal?” I said, smoothing the bck hem of my long-sleeved maxi dress. It was a simple, solid color, with a bit of ruffling on the sleeves and neckline. The hem went down to my shins, parting with a small slit at the knee. I’d paired it with a simple pair of two-inch bck pumps, and done my makeup with dark eyeshadow and crimson lipstick.

  Eli id on our bed, cd in brown khakis and a long-sleeved blue button-down, reading a comic involving a boy and his genie punching a body-hopping albino goril into submission with the power of friendship (and guns), and looked over at me. “I love it,” he smiled.

  “You mean it?” I asked.

  “Of course I do,” he said, swinging his legs over the bed and walking over to me. “I do have to ask, though: what are you hoping to get out of all this?”

  “My dad’s medical expenses covered?” I asked rhetorically.

  “Besides that,” he said, holding my face between his hands. It was amazing how much bigger than me he always felt even though he only had an inch of height on me (and I had about five thousand pounds on him). “Because… Look, I don’t wanna make this about me, but I do think I’ve learned tely that trying to force a retionship with a toxic family member is, uh… Well it doesn’t end great, most of the time.”

  “He might not be toxic,” I said, putting my hands on his hips.

  “Babe, he-”

  “I know what he did,” I sighed. “Trust me, I was there. But… If this is gonna work, then I have to at least try to believe that he’s changed.”

  “Okay,” Eli nodded. “And what if he hasn’t?”

  I embraced him, resting my chin on his shoulder. “Then I’ll need you to help me through it. Can you do that?”

  “Hm. Yeah, I think I can handle it,” he said. “Seriously, you look gorgeous.”

  “Heh. Ftterer.”

  “Nah. Just honest,” he said. “You almost ready?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just wanna pick out a neckce. I think I own a few that don’t have skulls on them, so-”

  “Callum should know the real you if he wants a retionship with you,” Eli said.

  Goddammit. He was right, but… Now wasn’t the time to say it. “He can find out about the real me piecemeal. Whatever else he and I are, right now, I need something from him, and I need to make a good impression.”

  I felt Eli wince, and even though I couldn’t see his face, I had to think it looked concerned. “Okay,” he said. “Just… Don’t be afraid to show him the skulls at some point, yeah?”

  I withdrew from the hug, then pressed my forehead to his. “Okay.”

  I gave him a peck on the lips, then went into my jewelry box and found a simple silver chain with a heart on it. This would do. Eli held my hair back and fastened it around my neck, and with that, I was armored up.

  Once more into the breach.

  ***

  The drive took the better part of ninety minutes, leading us up into the Hollywood hills. I’d been expecting some level of affluence from Callum- there was no way he was paying Dad’s hospital bills with his previous income of scratch-offs and welfare checks- but as we pulled up an incredibly long, winding driveway to find a four-story mansion with Parthenon-style white columns on the front and two sports cars parked ahead of us underneath the bckened banner of night, my jaw nearly dropped and an acidic sensation of dread filled my stomach.

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I said. What the in the ever-loving fuck had Callum done to make this kind of money?

  “This is… This is where Callum lives?” Eli asked. “And he’s not, like, a butler or something?”

  “Not a lotta butlers running for mayor,” I pointed out.

  “Didn’t you say he failed out of community college and consistently struggled to hold down a full-time job when you were living with him?” Eli said.

  “Yeah. It was one of the things Mom… One of the things Greta always resented. She hated having to be the breadwinner in the family,” I said as I parked the car and unbuckled my seatbelt.

  “So then how the heck did this happen?”

  “Dunno,” I said as I got out of the car. I grabbed my boyfriend’s hand, interlocked our fingers, and said, “Let’s find out.”

  “Okay, but if he’s a drug baron, we are not taking his money,” Eli said.

  “That sounds reasonable,” I said. Oh God, please don’t be some sort of criminal mastermind. Please, for the love of all that is good and pure, don’t be a criminal mastermind.

  We made it all the way to the door before it swung open. I half-expected a British butler or a French maid to be standing on the other side. Instead, I was greeted by the sight of Callum himself, wearing one of his three-piece suits, this one navy blue. At his side was a stunning, statuesque blonde woman in her early forties, hair done up in a fancy bun and her bangs side-swept, diamond studs in her ears and a diamond neckce around her throat. She wore a gorgeous teal dress, sleeveless and showing off her toned arms, covering her ample bust but accenting it at the same time. The waist was pinched and the hemline stopped just below her knees, all in all giving a modest yet still gmorous look. Her face was painted with pink lipstick and natural-looking eyeshadow, shes extended with mascara to make her brown eyes look enormous.

  “Oh my goodness gracious, you’re adorable!” the woman said, jumping on me and giving me a hug before I could offer any kind of response.

  I tried and failed not to flinch. I pulled my hand out of Eli’s and awkwardly returned this strange, beautiful woman’s hug. She pulled away and then put her hands on my cheeks, and it took all I had not to run away screaming in terror. I pstered on my best smile and did my best not to blink. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said.

  “You as well,” she said, her voice like honey and fresh springwater. “Sorry, that was probably a bit much. I’m just very excited to meet you. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

  “Uh… Uh…”

  “Oh, did your father not tell you?” she asked, cocking an artfully-sculpted golden eyebrow. “I’m his wife. Which makes me your stepmother.”

  “Oh!” I said. It was all I could manage. This was gonna be a long night.

  “I’m Kay Rochester,” she said, brushing a strand of my hair aside.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rochester,” I said.

  “Please, call me Kay!” she said, smiling wide with her pearly-whites. “Or Mom!”

  “I- um- that’s a bit-”

  “Oh, you don’t have to if you don’t want to!” she said, holding up her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “We’ll get there.”

  “Right,” I said. Yeah, this was gonna be a very long night.

  “And you must be Elijah,” Kay said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearing his throat and offering a hand for a shake.

  She just jumped on him with a hug instead. Jesus, I thought Bethany was bubbly; she was downright restrained in comparison to this woman. To my… Stepmother. I have a stepmother, I thought, attempting to wrap my head around it. It wasn’t that abstract of a concept, it just… For some reason, I’d never… I’d never even considered the idea. I hadn’t ever really had an older female presence in my life, given my… Given Greta’s complete ck of interest in being that for me. And now this woman was practically leaping at the opportunity to mom at me. I didn’t know how to feel about it. ‘Ambivalent’ would be the word, I suppose.

  “I must say, hubby here was shocked to find out you’d met once before,” Kay said to Eli, giving Callum a pyful swat on the arm. “I mean what are the odds, am I right?”

  “What indeed,” I said, forcing my smile. I was still struggling to get behind that one myself, mostly because it meant Callum had spent at least a year working up the courage to actually talk to me. That wasn’t something a man would do if he was insincere. Right?

  Right.

  “Why don’t you both come in,” Callum said, beckoning us indoors. “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. Would either of you like a drink? I have wine, beer, absinthe-”

  “Neither of us are twenty-one yet, sir,” Eli said.

  “So stolid,” Kay cooed. “Isn’t that lovely. Hold onto this one, Samantha-dear. I can already tell he’s a keeper.”

  Oh God, she was already giving me a nickname. “Do you have anything without carbs or gluten? I could go for a drink but I’m trying to avoid f… Avoid messing up my diet,” I said, ignoring the concerned side-eye Eli shot me.

  “I think we can arrange something,” Callum said.

  The anteroom was a massive cavity of space with a high ceiling accented by a fancy chandelier and a hardwood floor decorated by a Persian rug. A marble stairwell sprawled upwards to my left, while to my right was a mudroom where we were directed to take off our shoes. I stepped barefoot towards the kitchen, where a cook- a portly, older man with thinning hair cd in cssical chef’s whites- stirred a pot of sauteing broccoli and green beans while the oven hummed with light. “This is Arnold, our chef,” Kay said, and the stout little man gave a silent but serene nod. “We’re having baked salmon with a soy sauce aioli and sauteed greens on the side, plus some French bread to accompany it. I hope that’s alright.”

  “That’s… Completely fine,” I said. Dammit, did Callum actually remember that salmon was my favorite food? No, no this had to be a coincidence.

  “And for dessert, cranberry pie freshly baked this morning,” Kay beamed.

  Dammit. Both because that was my favorite dessert in the whole world, and because I couldn’t eat it. And also because apparently Callum had remembered that, because that was too specific to have been made by accident.

  I heard footsteps approaching from behind and turned as Callum said, “Ah, good. The other two people I wanted you to meet.”

  I was then faced by a teenage boy, younger than Reggie, probably a freshman in high school if I had to guess. He was blonde like his mother, with a mop-top of hay-colored hair desperately parted to the right. Short and slender with blotchy skin and silver braces, he looked profoundly uncomfortable in his blue polo shirt and beige corduroys. And he was carrying something in his arms, a bundle of blue bnkets swaddled around…

  Around… A sleeping baby.

  I balked, releasing a small but audible gasp as the gears in my head started spinning. Eli gripped my hand again, as the boy and the baby walked towards us. Callum and Kay walked around the boy as he entered the kitchen and completely failed to make eye contact.

  “Samantha, this is my son, Lance. Your stepbrother,” Kay said, pride and affection steaming off of her every word. “And this little guy here is your half-brother, Michael.”

  My jaw hung open, my eyes peeled wide, my knees damn-near buckling. The world spun around me, a cascading menagerie of confusion and apprehension and sheer fucking shock. And then the boy walked towards me, the baby still in his arms, and said, “Hey… Sis.”

  The menagerie flushed with warm colors and slowed to a gentle twirl, all the negative emotions evaporating and leaving only purpose and euphoria in its wake. It took a minute for my ability to talk to come back. I had no idea what my face was doing at that moment, but I needed- NEEDED- to make sure my voice didn’t sound low or masculine when I said whatever I was going to say next. I concentrated all my energy on speaking from the top of my throat, and said, “Hey… Little brother.”

  Lance flinched, breaking off eye contact; couldn’t say I bmed him. That was an incredibly awkward thing to say, and being me, I’d said it in the most awkward way possible. “It’s nice to meet you. C… Dad talks about you a lot,” Lance said.

  Interesting. “It’s nice to meet you too,” I said. “Um… This is my boyfriend, Eli.”

  “How you doing, guy?” Eli said, offering his warmest smile and extending a hand for a shake. Lance looked at him with a level of confusion bordering on anger. Eli lowered his hand after a moment, and said, “Never mind.”

  “It’s just… I’m holding a baby,” Lance said.

  “Could… Could I hold him?” I asked. The words raced out of my mouth before I could stop them. Dammit, no, that was weird, I shouldn’t have been asking that, that wasn’t a thing I should say, I should have asked his mom first-

  “Of course you can!” Kay said. “Lance, let your sister hold your brother.”

  ‘Sister.’ It was a simple, two sylble world, but it wasn’t one I’d ever had applied to me before. I liked the way it sounded, the warm and seen way it made me feel. Like I was a part of something. Like I was connected to… To a family. Maybe it was the way both Paul and Callum and even Kay had taken to calling me ‘daughter’ as well, but… God, I had to dam back a deluge of tears from destroying my makeup.

  Reluctantly, gradually, the teenage boy handed me our baby brother. I supported his head, held him against my chest, kept him wrapped in my arms. He was so tiny, so fragile, and yet so full of potential. This little one had an entire future sprawling out before him, in a house with two parents who, by all outward appearances, loved each other, who would do anything for him. I kept waiting for a spark of envy to ignite a hideous fme in my heart, but it never came. I was just happy. Happy this little guy existed, and happy I got to be part of his life.

  Eli rested his chin on my shoulder and looked down at the baby with me, and a gentle stirring overtook my chest and stomach. A possible future, a hint at an unspoken tomorrow that I knew in that moment I would love to see fulfilled. Objectively, I was far too young to be thinking about children. My twentieth birthday was still a month off, my future was almost guaranteed to be an uphill battle for survival in a world that was not designed to accommodate people like me, and Eli and I… We were good, great, loved each other, but at the same time I knew objectively (there’s that word again) we’d only been together six months and in a lot of ways we’d been forced to move way too fast. That the world was forcing us to grow up way too fast. It was a miracle we were doing as well as we were.

  But hey, maybe just for a moment, I could py pretend.

  “His eyes,” Eli whispered. “They’re the same as yours.”

  It was true: baby Michael had opened his eyes for me, drank in the sight of me, and smiled. And I saw two hazel irises, looking up at me full of love and acceptance. “He’s perfect,” I said. “Absolutely perfect.”

  “Thank you,” Kay said. “You’re a tremendously sweet young dy, Samantha.” She stepped towards me, arms extended, clearly wanting her child back. I fought off a grimace, and steadily handed her back the baby. It felt a bit like a part of me was being ripped away, but I ignored the feeling; Kay was Michael’s mother. She deserved to hold him, obviously. I was the stranger in this house. Obviously.

  Callum came up to me with a gss of chardonnay, putting it in my hands and looking like he was sizing me up. Sizing me up for what, I hadn’t the foggiest idea; I’d never been able to read this man’s expressions or moods beyond ‘unyielding rage.’ And that one wasn’t exactly tough to discern. Now though… I had no idea what was going through the man’s head.

  He handed Eli a beer, and clinked his gss of what smelled like scotch. He led us into the dining room, a rge, oblong space with white-tiled floors and a massive wall of windows overlooking a sprawling, verdant hilltop backyard that sat over a gorgeous valley of trees. However impressed I was, though, Eli was downright awestruck. He stood in front of the window-wall and put a palm to the gss as he drank in the sight of it all. It made sense: he’d grown up in even less auspicious financial circumstances than I had, with parents who triple-shifted their jobs to make ends meet (and also to avoid interacting with their son, but that was besides the point). I hadn’t exactly grown up rich, but we were at least a bit closer to the upper end of the working css spectrum than he’d been.

  But apparently this was something I’d been connected to the whole darn time. Or at least, that I was connected to now. I had a little brother who would grow up in this life, who’d probably never know anything else. Twin reactions warred inside my brain: resentment and relief. Resentment that Michael was going to have a far easier life than the one I’d grown up with, than the one I was ever going to know, and relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with all the bullshit that I did or that the man I loved did.

  Well, mostly. He’d still have Callum for a father. Maybe there was a chance he’d turned it around and gotten his soul back at some point in the st ten years, but I still wasn’t entirely convinced. There was another proverbial shoe, just waiting to drop. Any second now.

  “So, Eli, tell me about yourself,” Callum said.

  “Um… Okay!” Eli said, turning around and standing in front of Callum and I, back to the windows. “What would you like to know?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Los Angeles,” Eli shrugged.

  “No, I mean where are you from, in terms of your heritage?”

  OH GOD, NO! I thought.

  Eli grimaced. “My father’s family is from Guadajara, if that’s what you mean. And my mom’s side originally hails Germany by way of Grafenroda and Northern Irend by way of Belfast. If that’s what you mean.”

  “That is what I meant, yes!” Callum said, a stupid fucking grin on his face. Goddammit, no, do not do this, old man! “How long has your family-”

  “Eli doesn’t really like questions about his family,” I cut Callum off, grabbing Eli’s hand and pulling him into a seat next to me at the table. Both of our backs to the wall.

  “Hey now, let the man speak for himself,” Callum said.

  “Actually, she’s right, I really don’t like talking about them. Sir,” Eli said, not breaking off eye contact with Callum. “On account of them disowning me. Sir.”

  “Ah. Well, I suppose I can understand that. Not that I can comprehend how any parent could just-”

  “Throw away their own son like that?” I said before taking a sip of my wine.

  “... What do you mean? I’ve never done that.”

  “Just your daughter then? Guess that doesn’t count the same? Huh, Callum?” I said.

  “I see your point,” Callum said, clutching his chin, furrowing his brow. God, how did a politician have this bad of people skills? “Listen, Samantha. I’ve made a lot of mistakes-”

  “Yes,” I said. It was one thing to do this with me, but putting my boyfriend on the spot like that meant the cws were coming out.

  “I deserve that,” Callum shrugged and ughed nervously.

  Lance stood in the doorway of the dining room, leaning against the side while swirling a gss of milk. He watched with bated breath, like he wanted to see how this would py out. Like he’d wondered an awful lot about this man whom his mother had married, had gotten pregnant by. This man who’d abandoned his first family in pursuit of a dream he didn’t seem terribly well-equipped for.

  Smart boy.

  “Yes,” I said. “You do.”

  “I do want to make it up to you, though. I really do, Samantha,” Callum said. “If you’ll let me. I’m ready to be a part of your life.”

  “... Let’s just… See how tonight goes. Alright?”

  “Sounds perfectly reasonable,” Callum said. And then he turned right back to my boyfriend and said, “So, tell me, what are your prospects?”

  Eli blinked. “Beg pardon?”

  “For your career, I mean. What are you thinking?”

  “Well, uh, right now I’m studying business management. Night csses. Associate’s degree. That kinda of thing,” Eli said.

  “And what are you hoping to do with that?”

  “Honestly? I… I want to use it to turn the shop around,” Eli said, giving my hand a squeeze under the table. Oh, this man. This wonderful man. “Paul’s gonna need a lot of time off going forward, and I want to help keep the shop alive in any way I can. I have a pretty good head for numbers and promotion and stuff like that, so I think it’s a good fit.”

  He said things like that, and it was like my heart beat for him and only him. There was nothing else in the room, then. Just me and him. Us against the world.

  But of course, it wasn’t just us in this absurdly nice dining room in this absurdly nice house. “Fantastic!” Callum excimed. Okay, good. “If a bit small-scale.”

  Less good.

  “I disagree,” Eli said, politely but firmly. “I think it’s exactly what I need to do. Exactly where I need to be. Exactly where I want to be.”

  “In spite of the fact that more and more independent bookstores and hobby shops close every year?” Callum said. “Even major retail outlets for such things are struggling. You really think you’re enough to save this shop?”

  Eli breathed in a small breath through his nose, held it a moment, then exhaled. I could see the gears grinding inside his mind. He wasn’t happy with this conversation. If I were the one getting this round of twenty questions, I’d have flipped my shit. But he’d always been better with people than me. “I think we’re enough,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Samantha and I. Your daughter and your brother and their shop, they’re everything to me. And I’ll do anything for them.”

  Good answer, I thought, giving him a dreamy smile.

  “Good answer!” Callum said, smming a palm against the table, conjuring a yelp from both myself and Lance as the gss shook from the audible blunt impact. “Truly fantastic! That, THAT is the kind of grit and ambition that I like to see. Oh, this is fantastic- you’ve done well for yourself, Samantha!”

  Was this what having a rich dad was like? Being judged entirely by your choice of man? Granted, I loved my man, but it still felt… Weird. And that was ignoring the part where Callum was softcore racist (not really surprising, but still disappointing).

  Long night. Very long night.

  Eventually, dinner arrived, a pte of fish and vegetables with a greasy but delicious-smelling aioli atop the divine-looking salmon. Kay helped Arnold bring in everyone’s ptes before she sat down at the head of the table, across from Callum. Everything was perfect… Except the aioli. The greasy, fatty, salty aioli.

  “To new beginnings!” Kay said, raising her gss.

  I joined in the toast, and so did Eli, and that just left… Eating what was in front of me. Oh God… Okay, this would be fine. It was just a bit of mayo and soy sauce. Not good for me, but hardly the worst thing ever, and I’d been super disciplined the past week and hadn’t done my cheat day yet, so this was fine. Fine fine fine fine fine!

  I cut off a small piece of fish, using my knife to scrape off most of the sauce before I put the food in my mouth. Oh good God, that was some amazing fish. Salty and peppery and perfectly cooked. The vegetables complimented it well, superbly textured and crunchy with a clean, bright taste from the olive oil and what seemed like garlic powder. I managed to avoid most of the aioli, only getting a few hints of the amazingly savory, creamy sensation of it remaining on my fish. It was enough to get the general vibe but not enough to bring the panic attack I could feel bubbling beneath the surface of my mind to a raging boil.

  Callum kept asking Eli questions, directing all his attention at him and occasionally Lance. Eli didn’t flinch, kept his smile raised and his ugh sounding genuine as he worked the old man. Good. I could make it up to Eli ter- he was simply being his usual saintly self, but the fact that he was willing to bear the brunt of Callum’s everything was positively heroic.

  The flipside to that, however, was Kay focusing on me.

  “So, I have to ask,” Kay said, leaning towards me. She sat to my right, Eli to my left, Callum to his left, Lance brooding across from me. Oh God, here comes the awkward questions about the whole trans thing, I thought. Well, not, maybe not. Maybe she won’t be so tactless as her husband. “How long have you been transitioning?”

  Never fucking mind, then, I thought, exerting massive amounts of focus towards not letting my face scrunch up into a scowl. “Eight months.”

  “And you’ve been on hormones how long?”

  “Also eight months,” I said. Where we going with this, dy?

  “Amazing. I would have thought longer.”

  Was that supposed to be a compliment? “Uh… Thanks.”

  “I mean it, you’re absolutely stunning.”

  My cheeks heated a bit. “Thank you. I’ve, uh, also lost a lot of weight.”

  “Well, you’re clearly enjoying the fruits of your bor,” Kay smiled. “Do you pn on getting the operation? The… Vaginopsty, I believe it’s called?”

  Aaaaaaannnnnnddddddd there it is, there it inevitably fucking is. Okay, just breathe, Samantha. You can do this. Just be honest, but respectful, and ignore the feeling of being treated like an object. “I would like to have that at some point, yes,” I managed. “Though that’s a long ways off-”

  “Why?” Kay said, unblinking.

  “Uh… I mean, I have to get a consultation first, and my endocrinologist wants me to be on hormones for at least a year before we start having that conversation-”

  “A second opinion could be in order, though,” Kay said. “I can find a surgeon for you, if you’d like. I’m sure there’s at least one urologist in this city who would respond well to a truck of cash being dropped on their doorstep.”

  “I… I… I don’t want to impose, you’re already helping out with Paul-”

  “It would not be an imposition, Samantha dear,” Kay said, putting a hand on my shoulder. God, this dy was touchy. “It would be atonement.” I blinked. “I suppose that’s-”

  “I mean that,” Kay said. “As soon as your father told me about his history with you, I made it clear to him he would need to make things right. Whatever it takes. And that goes for your transition as well as Paul’s health.”

  I blinked again. This… None of this had been Callum’s idea. His wife had guilt-tripped him into it.

  “He’d been considering it before he told me, mind you,” Kay continued. “But once I became pregnant with Michael, he confessed everything, and I told him in no uncertain terms what had to happen.”

  Okay, that’s… Less bad, I guess. “Thank you,” I repeated, erring on the side of caution.

  “Of course,” Kay said. She seemed genuine when she said it. “We’re family now. And I believe that family should help each other.”

  I nodded, unsure of what to say, forcing myself to maintain eye contact.

  “And like I said,” she continued, “I truly did always want a daughter.”

  Perhaps… Perhaps she wasn’t so bad. Clueless, but her intentions at least seemed good. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being treated like an object. I also couldn’t help but notice Lance giving his mother and I a withering expression.

  What was that about?

  ***

  Finally, the moment I’d been dreading the most arrived: dessert.

  The worst part was how good it smelled. Sweet and tangy, with a buttery crust that was the envy of many a Thanksgiving offering. I wanted to scream just looking at it. The boiling anxiety in my stomach steamed hotter and more violently than ever before as my slice was pced before me. The scoop of vanil ice cream melting on top of it just made it worse. God, they’d even sprinkled sea salt on it!

  Dad’s life is at stake here, I reminded myself, sticking a fork into the delicious, traitorous desert, hoping nobody noticed the slight tremor in my hands. Dad’s life is at stake, I reminded myself as I forked a bite into my mouth, savoring the taste and hating myself for enjoying it. Dad’s life is at stake, I reminded myself as I forced myself to swallow, as the sugary death slid down my esophagus and settled in my discontented stomach.

  I told myself that with every bite. I managed to clear the whole pte, and even managed to smile and say how delicious it was while my terror and shame and dread burned and stung my insides. I told myself that as I excused myself from the table, asked where the bathroom was, and marched down the hallways. I told myself as I ignored Eli’s concerned expression trailing after me. I told myself as I tore open the bathroom door, knelt before the toilet, and stuck my hand into my mouth. Was I really about to do this? Oh God, I was. I couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take the idea that all these useless, evil calories were going to make me even fatter. I had to stop them. I couldn’t go back to being the whale that I was.

  I couldn’t turn out like my dad, with a heart about to explode any day now because he had no idea how to mind what he ate.

  I pushed my fingers further back until it caught something, and a horrible, cathartic rushing sensation shot up from my stomach. It left my mouth all at once, the contents of my now-empty stomach nding in the toilet. I blinked through the tears filling my eyes as I saw what I’d done. I looked in the mirror, and saw a mess of ruined, runny makeup and disheveled hair accompanying the disgusting odor on my breath and in the toilet.

  I flushed it, my hands still trembling, my heartbeat locked into a terrified sprint. I turned on the faucet and let the water get as hot as I could handle, scrubbing my hands with soap and letting the heat burn them as I washed away the remnants of what I’d done. I cupped some into my mouth, attempting to gargle it away, hoping to God the smell wouldn’t linger.

  The door to the bathroom opened a crack, and I barely suppressed a scream. “Samantha?” Kay said, entering without asking and shutting the door behind her.

  “Please don’t… Please don’t look at me,” I sobbed. “Please don’t-”

  “Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay,” she said, approaching me with palms held ft in front of her. “Don’t worry.”

  “I just… I couldn’t… I couldn’t let it- I had to- oh God, oh God Eli is gonna freak out, Dad is gonna freak out-”

  “They don’t have to know,” Kay said in a soft, reassuring voice as maneuvered herself behind me and started tying back my hair with a scrunchy she fished out of a drawer at the sink. “Trust me, nobody has to know. I’m guessing this is the first time you’ve done something like this?”

  I nodded, the tears flowing freely.

  She retrieved some mascara-cleanser and cotton balls from the same drawer as the scrunchy. “I figured as much. Don’t worry, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’m the same way.”

  “You… You are?”

  “Do I look like a woman who gave birth three months ago to you?” Kay said, her smile only slightly condescending.

  “N-no, I guess not,” I said, hating the low monotone my voice came out as.

  “Exactly. Now, my man has no idea about this, and I intend to keep it that way. I can help you do the same,” Kay said, soaking a cotton ball in the makeup cleanser. “You just have to be careful about when and where you do this. I’m not mad. I want to make it clear that I’m not mad. Just worried. Getting caught doing something like this is… Well, it’s mortifying, to be perfectly honest with you. So. Let’s fix your makeup, get back out there, and pretend that this didn’t happen, that you and I just had a nice little round of girl-talk while the boys jawed about sports or something. How does that sound?”

  I didn’t have any words. I was afraid of them, afraid of my voice, afraid of my thoughts and my desires. So I nodded again, and Kay started cleaning up the runny mascara. When she was done, she took a moist makeup wipe and scrubbed off my lipstick, then took some cosmetics out of another drawer and began reapplying my face for me.

  She was helping me. She wanted to help me, because family helped each other. So why wasn’t the boiling shame inside me dissipating? Why did this still feel so wrong?