Nathan and I are sitting at the kitchen table with a huge buffet of food in front of us. Nathan’s plate is pilled high with eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and pancakes. Me, on the other hand, I settle for a cup of coffee. But after a pointed look from Nathan I decide to make myself a small plate of food as well.
From the moment we stepped into the kitchen Missy started in on Nathan about having a girl spend the night. Apparently she tried to turn the door handle on Nathan’s bedroom door more than once during the night. And if they noticed that I wasn’t in my room all night, neither she nor my dad say anything about it. How nice of them to care.
“Now, I have no problem with you having girls over. I’ve always told you that.
You’re a very mature boy for your age. But don’t any of them want to meet your mother?”
Nathan looks uncomfortable. “Mom, can we not talk about this.”
“Don’t try to deny it either,” Missy says placing a glass of orange juice in front of me without asking if I want it. “I found that slutty red bra in your bed while you were in the shower.”
Nathan shoots me an amused look from across the table. “Slutty, huh?”
Missy hits him in the back of the head. “This isn’t funny young man. Is this how girls at your school act Victoria?”
She catches me off guard and I choke on a piece of fruit.
“Look,” Nathan says saving me, “she’s not a slut. Not even close Mom. So you can just relax.”
“I think I’m pretty relaxed considering the situation, Nathan.”
“Go easy on the boy Missy,” my dad says, walking into the kitchen. He’s wearing a pair of shorts and a golf polo shirt. Guess he’s golfing today.
“At least,” he says, grabbing a bagel from the counter, “we’re having kids in the house again. Victoria never has anyone over except that curly haired girl. Definitely not any boys.” He says the last part like me having boys over is a very crazy thought.
I blush and look down at the plate of food in front of me. I can feel Nathan’s eyes on me as my face turns even redder than it already is.
“Okay mom,” Nathan says, still looking at me, “next time I’ll make sure she says hi.”
I meet his eyes and quickly reach my leg under the table and kick him. But all he can manage to do is grin at me.
“See,” my dad says, “it all worked out. I better go. I can’t be late for my tee time.” He kisses Missy on the cheek and leaves out the back door without another word.
“Well,” Missy says, clearly starting to feel better, “I guess that would be good if maybe I could meet her.”
Nathan shoots me a cocky grin. “Oh, you can meet her for sure.”
I scowl at him and cross my hands over my chest.
“Nathan,” Missy says, pouring herself a cup of coffee, “do you think you could have a few of your friends come over today or tomorrow to help me move some stuff around?”
I roll my eyes. That’s all Missy has been doing since she’s gotten here, moving things around. Moving things out, moving things in. Switching this or that around. It’s one thing after another and seems to be never ending.
“Sure,” Nathan says, stuffing a huge forkful of food into his mouth. “What do you need moved?”
I stare at his plate and shake my head. How can he stay in such good shape eating the way he does? It’s so not fair. Then I remember all of his three thirty A.M. workouts and various other sports activities and suddenly my question of fairness flies out the window.
“A bunch of little things,” she says, casually. “Mostly just that old chest over there.” I drop my fork and follow her eyes to where they’re fixed.
The old chest that sits in the corner of our kitchen is pure white with little pink flowers around the edges. The paint is chipping in all the wrong places and it has a very antique feel. Missy is totally modern so I figured it would eventually have to go, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
My mom had seen this chest at a little antique shop one weekend when I was little. My dad told her it was a piece of junk and not worth the money so she had sadly moved on. But when she came home from work the next night there it was, sitting in the corner of the room waiting for her. My dad had gone back and gotten it for her as a surprise.
I can still remember the look on her face when she first spotted it sitting there.
It’s the only time I can remember from my childhood that my dad actually did something nice for my mom. When I was little my mom used to joke that one-day when I had a house of my own that same chest would sit in my kitchen. Back then I just rolled my eyes and laughed. But as I’ve gotten older the idea has started to grow on me. And now I realize that I really want that to happen one day.
“Um,” I ask Missy, “does my dad know that you’re getting rid of that?”
Missy nods like it’s no big deal. “Yes. He said do whatever I wanted with it. I was going to put it in the garage but there’s already so much junk out there that I’m thinking the curb is a better idea.”
All that junk out there in the garage is my mom’s. I feel a few tears start to form behind my eyes. I try to push them back but I feel like they’re going to spill out at any moment so I quickly make some excuse and leave the table.
Once I get outside I sit on the edge of our deck looking out at the pool and the huge yard that’s before me. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to let myself cry. And for a while I don’t. But before I know it a few tears manage to escape and are falling down my cheeks. I wipe them away quickly.
Gosh, what am I doing? I’m pathetic. I can’t believe I’m allowing myself to get this upset over a stupid chest. Or that I’m allowing myself to get so jealous over stupid Nathan. Everything’s getting out of control again.
“Feel like talking about it?” Nathan asks, sitting down next to me.
“Nope,” I say. “Feel like going to my room?”
He shakes his head. “Yes, but I’m not going to.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because,” he says slowly, “I want you to tell me what’s wrong so we can talk about it. You can’t continue to keep everything inside Shell. It’s not healthy.”
I sigh and don’t say anything for a minute. “I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Why?” he asks gently.
I shake my head and lean down to rest on my knees. “No matter what I do it’s not good enough for my dad. Nothing is. And that chest in there? It was my mom’s. It’s like everything of hers is slowly making its way out of my life. And I know I have to stop whatever I’m doing with you because you’re right, I can’t handle you doing with other girls what you’re doing with me. Everything just sucks.”
Nathan moves closer to me and our knees brush against one another. “Have you tried talking to your dad about moving your mom’s stuff?”
I shake my head. “It’ll just cause an unnecessary fight. There’s no point.”
“Well,” he says slowly, “at least you have a dad. Mine won’t even talk to me.” I look at him and see a kind of sad expression come across his face.
My dad told me a long time ago that Missy’s ex-husband isn’t in the picture and that it’s a really sensitive subject. I asked my dad if Nathan still talks to him but he snapped at me and told me to leave it alone, so I’ve never bothered bringing it up to Nathan. I’ve always figured that maybe it would cause him pain. But now he’s bringing it up, which means I can ask as many questions as I want.
“Why not?” I ask him curiously.
“I stopped trying to figure that out a long time ago,” he says, glancing out at the pool. “For a while after the divorce I would call him and text him, you know, try to get his attention. But he wouldn’t answer. After that, I worked on being perfect. I figured if I could just do good enough in sports or get good enough grades in school he would see how good I was doing and…”
“And come back,” I finish for him.
He nods. “Exactly. For a really long time I would try to destroy any guy my mom brought home, never giving anyone a chance. Your dad was the first one who wasn’t scared of my shit. Or who didn’t care about my smart ass remarks.”
Suddenly, the first time I saw Nathan flashes back into my mind as I remember what he was saying to his friend about my dad. I was so mad at him back then, but it all makes more sense to me now.
“Well,” I say looking into his eyes, “if it makes you feel any better, he’s missing out on someone really amazing.”
He grins and reaches into his pocket. “So I was going to wait to give you this, but you seem like you could use some cheering up today.”
“A present!” I say getting excited. “You got me a present?”
Nathan smirks. “Don’t get too excited. It’s nothing huge.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” I say, holding my hand out. He drops something tiny into it and I realize as I look closer that it’s a necklace. A simple gold chain with a tiny golden seashell on the bottom. It’s so simple, yet so beautiful.
“Nathan, wow,” I say, not taking my eyes off of it, “it’s beautiful.”
He reaches out and takes the necklace from me. I lift my hair up so he can clasp it around my neck. After it’s on me I take the seashell in my hand and run my fingers over it. “Thank you.”
He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just something I saw and thought of you.”
“Well, either way, it’s perfect.”
“And I may be able to help you with at least one of your problems,” he says, sighing. “If you want I can not hook up with any other girls until we’re done working on your confidence.”
I’m so shocked that it takes me a moment to speak. “You would do that for me?”
Nathan smirks. “It’s not this huge thing, Shell. Contrary to what you may think, I don’t need to have sex every second.”
I laugh and lean my head against his shoulder. “You just made me feel so much better.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind the thought occurs to me that his statement means more to me than just working on my confidence. But I push that thought out as fast as it comes in and move my body closer to his.
***
So, I’ve slept in Nathan’s bedroom every night since and I don’t wake up once.
For the first time in over a year I’m sleeping six or seven hours a night and it feels absolutely amazing. But it’s also getting a little weird. Like last night, for example, we didn’t even hook up. We just slept. I feel like that’s definitely something couples do.
Not hooking up with anyone else and holding each other all night long definitely seems like couple status to me. But every time I start to feel like this I push the thoughts out of my head because we aren’t a couple, and we never will be. There are way too many reasons why it can never work, starting with the fact that he’s my soon to be stepbrother.
No, I tell myself. He’s just the first guy you’re opening yourself up to in this way.
It’s completely and totally normal to feel this attached to him. It will surely pass soon.
I’ve been taking better care of myself too. Not that there was anything wrong with me before. It’s just that I seem to care more about what I look like now. For instance, I’ve started straightening my hair and wearing some light make-up some days.
And I’ve even gone out and bought myself a few new things. For the first time in a really long time I’m starting to feel pretty again.
Today at lunch Dustin tells me how Ava was complaining because Nathan totally blew off their date and is like refusing to reschedule it for some reason. I can’t help the smile that comes over my face.
Another thing is that Nathan talked to my dad and Missy and told them it might be better if we all go as a family to my dad’s work party instead of with dates. Of course when the idea comes from Nathan it’s accepted as a great one.
Overall, everything’s going really great and I’m starting to feel really happy. So it only makes sense that as soon as things are looking up they begin to fall apart again.
It’s about a week before my dad’s dinner party and Nathan is starting to ignore me. He’s not answering my text messages, is leaving for school early, and is sleeping out at night. I’m confused, but trying not to take it personally as much as it’s starting to drive me crazy.
“He’s just ignoring me,” I tell Angelina on day three of Nathan’s weird behavior.
We’re sitting in the café waiting for Dustin and a few other kids from newspaper so we can discuss a new article we’re working on.
“So weird,” Angelina says, taking a sip of her diet coke. “And you didn’t have a fight or anything?”
I shake my head. “No. Everything was fine and then he just stopped talking to me.”
“Try texting him,” she tells me.
“I did!” I say, frustrated.
“Well,” Angelina says after a moment, “sometimes the best way to get someone to talk to you is to make them talk to you.”
I frown. “How can I do that?”
“Well,” she says, glancing at the clock on the wall, “you know he gets out of practice soon. I say you go wait for him outside the gym.”
“Don’t you think that’s kind of stalkerish?”
“You can’t stalk someone you live with.”
I consider this for a minute and decide this defense works. It might not actually be true, but I’m willing to convince myself of anything at the moment. The Nathan thing is driving me crazy. And I’m back to having trouble sleeping. I can’t even get a few hours in without waking up. It’s been literally minutes. I’m starting to go a little insane.
I glance at the clock and Angelina sighs. “Just go. I’ll take care of the article.”
I don’t have to be told twice. I jump up and head out the door, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze as I go.
As I walk toward the gym I begin to get the feeling that this could be a really bad idea. I mean, ambushing him after basketball practice, when he’s all amped up anyway, does not sound good. But then I figure sometimes you just need the truth, even when you have a bad feeling about how you’re getting it.
When I get to the gym, Nathan’s the only one in there. The rest of the team has already left, but Nathan never leaves with the rest of the team. He always stays for at least for an hour after practice, or comes an hour early, to work on the stuff he thinks he needs to work on. Watching him now, it’s no wonder he’s the best player in the state.
Our school hasn’t lost a game since he transferred here. Needless to say, our sports director is very pleased.