And when our parents finally got married, I was beyond pissed at him.
I hated my deadbeat stepbrother, wherever he was.
I hated him, even if he was dead.
He was an arrogant, selfish prick, and part of me was happy he was gone.
I flopped down onto my childhood bed, exhausted from the long trip home.
It felt weird looking up at my old ceiling again, the colors and the shadows unchanged, as if I had never left home at all. Four years was a pretty long time, all things considered, but it had flown by in the blink of an eye.
“How are you doing, honey?”
I looked over and saw my dad leaning in the doorway wearing his usual Canadian tuxedo: jeans and a tucked-in denim work shirt.
“I’m fine. Tired from the trip.”
“Miss California yet?”
“More and more each minute.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You could at least lie to me.”
“You raised me to be an honest person, Dad.”
“Honest to a fault,” he mumbled.
“Where’s Lynn?”
He shrugged. “Shopping for dinner, I think.”
Lynn was Camden’s mom. I liked her a lot, though I hated her at first. She was about my Dad’s age, maybe a few years younger, and they had met when Camden and I were spending a lot of time together. I guess something clicked and they were together from our junior year onwards. They didn’t get married until two years ago, though. Well after Camden had disappeared.
Another milestone Camden missed.
“She doesn’t need to go to any trouble.”
“You know Lynn. She gets excited when you come home.”
I felt a little bad. I had visited as often as I could, mostly on big holidays, but it was hard getting from Berkeley, California out to Hammond, Indiana. My Dad and Lynn didn’t exactly have the money to pay for my airfare, and I definitely wasn’t rolling in cash, either. Life as a physics student at an expensive school was fun and amazing and challenging, but I never had a spare dime to spend on anything non-essential.
I sighed and climbed out of bed. “I’m going to unpack.”
“Okay. I’ll give you some privacy.” He paused. “I’m glad you’re home, kiddo.”
“Me too, Dad.”
He smiled and then left, back down to his armchair and whatever sporting event was currently on TV.
I wasn’t exactly lying when I said it was good to be home. Hammond was a small town, pretty boring, and had plenty of its own problems. It was just like a hundred other Rust Belt towns in Indiana, except it was my home and always would be. Plus, it was right around the corner from Chicago, which was something I took advantage of as often as possible when I was younger.
It took me an hour to dig all of my stuff out of my suitcase. Even though I was drop-dead tired, I knew that I didn’t want to live out of my luggage for the whole summer. I had a spot waiting for me in the physics graduate department back at Berkeley, but I couldn’t afford to live in the city all summer until it started.
In the meantime, I was crashing with my Dad again just like the old days.
“Lace?”
I looked up and smiled. “Hey, Lynn.”
She walked over and gave me a huge hug. “How was your trip?”
“Uneventful.”
“Exactly how it should be.”
“It’s good to see you.”
“You too. How long’s it been?”
“Since Christmas.”
“Wow, seriously? I can’t believe how fast time moves.”
I laughed and shook my head. That was typical Lynn, always saying strange things. She was short, shorter than me, with mousey brown hair. She was a runner and was in amazing shape for her age. Sometimes I felt like she put me to shame, but it didn’t make a difference. I loved ice cream and chocolate and chocolate ice cream, and no amount of abdominal muscles would take either of those things away from me.
“How’s Dad been since I was last here?”
“You know your father. He’s good when he’s good and not when he’s not.”
I nodded as if that made complete sense. “How’s his work?”
“Surprisingly good, actually.”
Dad was a small-time chandelier maker. He built and fabricated lamps and other lighting materials during the day, but his real passion were these artful chandeliers made up of recycled bottles and antiques. They were pretty spectacular, but not exactly super popular.
“Really? What changed?”
“He finally got up off his ass and made a website.”
“I’m shocked.”
“I know. Your technophobe father has a web presence.”
“Does he wear his tinfoil hat when he touches the computer?”
“Please. He doesn’t do any of it. He makes me take care of that stuff.”