“Pepper, how are you?” she asks softly. It’s as if she’s afraid speaking like a regular person might scare me off.
“I’m peachy,” I say brightly, though my head protests even that much enthusiasm.
“Good, that’s good,” she declares, and there’s a long moment of Holy Awkward, Batman, where we just stare at one another, and then she adds, “Well, I better get going. The library doesn’t open itself. Take care, okay?”
“Yeah, um … you too,” I say as she steps out around me and hurries off down the street. I let out a heavy breath and turn back to the door when I catch my reflection in the glass. Sam’s shirt dwarfs me, even with the hem tied securely in a knot over my hip. My hair is a fuzzy pink ball of fluff that looks like a bag of fairy floss suddenly came into contact with a lot of static electricity. I lean in closer when I notice a black mark above my forehead, and I scrub my hand over it, thinking it must be left over ash or soot from Sam’s fire gear. It’s not. It’s so much worse than that.
“Mother fucker!” I scream to the empty street, or not so empty, because when I turn around I realise that Sam and his band of merry men are all still hanging out by the fire trucks laughing at me. “You’re gonna pay for this, Sammy Belle. I’m gonna tie you down and tattoo a penis on your forehead.”
“Don’t forget the moustache,” Holly says from behind me. I spin around to find her hovering in the doorway of Belle’s Pies, arms folded across her chest and a smug expression on her face. “You’re late.”
“Bring it up with the golden boy, Holly. He’s the one that tied me to a fucking tree,” I snap, and just to show how pissed off I really am, I turn and give him the finger. Well … two fingers, actually.
“I’m betting you did something to deserve it, though?” she says, and I know matricide is totally an unacceptable way to deal with mummy issues, but seriously, could she not take my side even just this one time? “You should try baby oil. That’s what I used to use when you were little and Sam and his Sharpie were feeling artistic.”
“I’m going to kill him,” I say, and stalk past my mother into the diner, ignoring the stares of the bemused patrons.
“The more things change, huh?” Holly chuckles to herself as I stomp to the counter, yank open the drawer and fish out a key to the loft upstairs. I shoot her a look that could raze Satan where he stands, but my mother just smiles, kisses my cheek and saunters away singing, “Still into You” an old Paramore song that I used to play on repeat when I was a fourteen-year-old emo punk kid, and, yes you guessed it, still pining after Sam.
Fucking stupid firemen and their sexy goddamn sharpie-wielding hands.
SUNDAY MORNING, I sit down to coffee and a huge stack of pancakes and bacon. Holly somehow roped Pepper into going shopping with her. I don’t think it took an awful lot of arm twisting because she’s been avoiding me since yesterday. She switched shifts at the diner, working the afternoon and evening instead, and when she came in at midnight, a full two hours after her shift ended, she ran a bath and told me she had a migraine. You didn’t fuck with Pepper on a migraine. I had questions, a lot of questions, and I felt as if they were burning a hole through my head, but I left her alone. I could wait one more day. But then? Then I was coming to collect, she was going to tell me everything, and I wasn’t ever going to let her run again.
The loft is blissfully quiet for once. Until it’s not. There’s a pounding on my door and I have half a mind to not answer it and hope whoever is behind it will get bored and leave me the hell alone when my sister calls out, “Sammy Belle, open this damn door. I know you’re home because your car is parked out front and I can smell pancakes, damn it.”
I trudge over to the door and swing it wide, allowing my tiny sister to barrel into the room. She smiles at me, takes one look at the empty shake-and-bake pancake bottle on the bench and says, “Why the hell are you eating that crap? I taught you how to make them from scratch.”
“Good morning to you too, Sis. Please, take a seat, pour yourself some coffee, make yourself at home, and pick apart all my life choices some more.”
She makes herself a cup of coffee with my outdated machine, and sits beside me, running a hand through my too-long hair and pushing it back off my forehead. I pull away. It’s intrinsic to us, this mother/son connection we have. I love my sister. I’d do anything for her, but I wish she’d stop already with the helicopter parenting. I’m a grown-arse man. “Quit mothering, woman.”
“Sorry. Old habits,” she says and smiles down into her coffee. My sister has always been beautiful. She’s immaculately presented, and she takes care of her figure. The fine lines around her eyes, and the grey hairs that she tries so hard to cover up make no difference to the beauty within. She just radiates warmth, and I can’t ever remember a time I didn’t want her around. “You know, your mum and I never got along. I know you don’t remember much of her but bits and pieces.”
“I remember you used to call her the Dragon.”
Ana chuckles. “I did.”
“I remember the nightmares. And the explosion the night that Belle’s Pies burned, the night I would have burned to death too, if you and Elijah hadn’t arrived when you did. I see it every time I go in to put out a fire.”
“I know,” Ana says quietly. I raise my brow. My sister and I talk openly about a lot of things, but my mother’s death isn’t really one of them. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you do the things you do, Sammy. It’s what we Belles do; we take care of others. Even Dad has devoted his life to helping others, in his own way—Elijah, Holly, Jack, Pepper, you and I, Kick.”
“How can you say his name like that? How can you forgive that scum who almost cost you your life?”
“Kick?” she asks, though I don’t know why. We both know which scum I’m referring to, and that’s another thing we don’t talk about. Ever. “Because part of what we Belles do is forgive too easily. Daniel was, probably still is, a very messed up human being, Sam. He made mistakes, a lot of mistakes, but he made the only choice he could live with at the time.”
“Sis, did something happen between the two of you?”
She tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles. “I’ve only ever loved Elijah.”
“You don’t have to love someone in order to screw them, Ana.”
“Is that what’s happening with you and Pepper?” She asks, and she’s not the least bit weirded-out by this shit. Not like I am. “Just … screwing?”
“Nothing is happening with Pepper, and you’re not answering the question.”
“Nothing ever happened between me and anyone else. I’ve only ever had eyes for my husband. Of course, when a man fucks like he does there’s really no need to go anywhere else.”
I cover my ears. “ARRRGGGHH! Don’t say shit like that.”
She shrugs. “Well, you asked. Now it’s your turn.”
I let out a gust of air and push my half-eaten pancakes away from me. “I’m not screwing Pepper.”
“But you want to,” Ana says. It’s not a question.
“I want a lot of things, Ana Cabana. It doesn’t mean I should have them.”
“Does she make you happy, Sammy?”
“When she’s not making me miserable.”
“Sounds like true love.” She laughs. “I love Pepper like my own daughter, and though you’re my brother, I love you like a son, Sammy. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt, but I don’t want to see you miserable for the rest of your lives because you feel as though you have to fight your feelings for the rest of this crazy fucked-up family.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying fuck the family, Sam. If that girl is what makes you happy, then quit screwing around and make her yours. I’m going to say one more thing first: if you hurt her, brother or not, I will junk-punch you into next century. And then I’ll stand by and watch while Jack, Coop and Holly beat the shit out of you.”
“It’s not the family, Sis. I can’t get her to quit running from
me. We’re a goddamn mess. I want her so bad I can’t see straight, and I know she wants that too.”
Ana swats me over the top of my head. “Ouch. What the fuck?”
“Stop thinking with your cock, Sam.” She smacks her hand against my chest repeatedly, and then leaves it there, hovering over my heart. I place my hand over my sister’s small one, mostly just to make sure she doesn’t hit me again—for a tiny thing she sure has some strength. “Think with this.”
“I am thinking with this, only she’s not. She’s too busy fucking running.” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
“Then you need to find out why, and take away her shoes.” Ana grins at me, and I know already that she’s planning my wedding in her head. I shake my own, and I’m just about to tell her to calm the fucking farm when a loud clattering from downstairs has us both frowning in confusion.
“Did you bring Elijah with you?”
“No. He and Jack are getting ready to go eight rounds on some stupid new Xbox or Wii, or whatever bloody gaming console the kiddies are using these days. I swear to god, those two are such children.”
“Then who’s downstairs?” I ask bringing her attention back to the problem at hand.
“That’s a very good question. Lil came with me, but she’s Facebooking her friends from the office,” Ana says, and then she’s up off the couch and hurrying through my front door, down the stairs, and in through the slightly ajar back door of Belle’s Pies, and god do I wish we’d found a meth addict trying to rob us blind, because even the image of some tricked-up junkie stuffing his face full of pie while he shoves my sister’s hard-earned money in his pockets would have been better than what we walked in on.
Standing before us, with his pants down around his ankles and his girlfriend, Sue, propped up on Ana’s stainless steel bench is our father. Neither he nor Sue has seen us come in and my sister and I gape on as his wrinkly arse flexes with his rhythmic thrusts.
“Jesus Christ,” I manage to whisper. Dad ceases his thrusting. Sue opens her eyes and stares back at us. I’m sure she’s just as horrified as we are but … no, scratch that. There’s no way she could be as mortified as we are because we just witnessed our dad, our dad who is an old man, fucking his old lady on the bench that Ana makes pies on, and he’s our father, and his arse is old and wrinkly, and his balls were slapping against her—bile rises in my throat, but I quash down the impulse to vomit because Ana is screaming in my ears and I need to cover them to avoid going deaf.
“OH MY GOD,” Ana screams “YOUR JUNK IS OUT. AND IT’S FUCKING THINGS—no offense, Sue—IT’S FUCKING THINGS IN MY KITCHEN. ON MY BENCH. WHERE I PREPARE PIES, NO LESS.”
“Calm the fuckin’ farm, darlin’. It’s not like you and that husband of yours haven’t gone several rounds in here before. Unfortunately, I was witness to more than one of them, so don’t go getting’ on ya high horse, here.”
“I’m just going to go out the back,” Sue says, rearranging her clothing into place and squeezing out from behind my dad. She hurries through the door with her face flushed and her head bowed.
“I’ll be out in a second, darl,” Dad says.
Ana sighs and smooths her fingers over her temple, as though she’s trying to ease a headache.
“Dad, there isn’t enough disinfectant in the entire world to remove the mental and physical evidence of what you just did to that countertop. I’m going to have to call in a fucking HazMat team to come clean this shit up.” Ana begins pacing, and then she twists around and shoots him with a piercing glare. “Are you even allowed physical … activity? What about your pacemaker?”
Dad shrugs. “A man has needs, Ana.”
“Oh my god, please stop talking.” She covers her ears. “Just stop talking.”
“How many times have I walked in on you kids going at it like fuckin’ rabbits? Jesus Christ, Ana, you made a sex tape, and I was forced to watch it along with the rest of the family. And, Sammy, how many times did I walk into your room and cop a glimpse of the tits of young girls who I’d seen grow up with you? And let’s not fucking forget the time I caught you buried with your face between Pepper’s legs and your arse on full display in my own fucking living room.”
“You made a sex tape?” I accuse my sister.
At the same time, she says, “You told me you hadn’t slept with Pepper.”
“No. I said I’m not doing anything with Pepper right now. That doesn’t mean I’ve never fucked her.”
“When did this happen?”
“It was years ago, and let’s not forget the fact that you made a fucking sex tape. Where is that shit? And what if I’d come across it on Porn Hub? Jesus Christ, Sis.”
“Okay, for a start, it was years ago, and like Dad said, the entire family has already seen it. Including you, since Elijah left the flash drive in the TV and seven-year-old Sammy got curious. I think you’re missing the point. When I asked you what was happening with Pepper, you said nothing. Nothing isn’t I screwed her however many years ago on Dad’s couch; nothing is I’ve never touched her. Now I learn you’ve already fucked like rabbits years ago? Why didn’t you tell me this? Did you break her heart, Sammy? Oh my god, you’re the reason she left town. You broke her heart and drove her away.” My sister punctuates each word with a painful jab to my chest.
Jesus, she’s a violent thing.
“Actually, we spent three fucking days together. Three days of hiding from the family, and fucking, and falling even more in love with her than I already was, and she just up and left. Without a word. Without an explanation. Without so much as a fucking, ‘the sex was great and all, but I’ll see ya round’. She just up and left, wouldn’t answer my calls, and sent a message to Holly to ask me to stop trying to contact her.”
“Why didn’t I know any of this?”
“Because I didn’t want you to know. Then you might have hated her, and I couldn’t stand that.” I say, as I rub a hand over the back of my neck, trying to ease some of the tension from my muscles. How is it possible that Pepper’s not even in the same building as me and yet she’s still causing me grief?
“Oh, Sammy.”
“Now you see why this is more complicated than just thinking with my heart.”
“You could try talking to her. If you still feel that way, maybe she does too?”
I shake my head. “Let it go, Ana.”
“But—”
“Kiddo,” Dad warns. He was there to see the mess Pepper left in her wake. Ana had been so busy with the diner and consoling Holly, she hadn’t noticed how black my life had become the second that little Pepper Ryan had disappeared from it. Dad had seen though. Dad had seen everything. He shakes his head at Ana, and they share a silent exchange. I exhale loudly. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately, it seems.
“Well fuck, you two didn’t want to clue me in? I could have been there for you, Sammy. I could have—”
I laugh and tweak her nose. “What? Baked me a goddamned pie? I was heartbroken, Ana. The only thing that might have helped would be Pepper coming back to say she’d made a mistake. Or a fucking time machine. I would have settled for one of those in a heartbeat.”
“We all could have done with a fucking time machine. You were a mess, alright. Crying into your fucking pillow the way you did when you lost your mum.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say sarcastically.
“It’s the truth, ain’t it? I’d seen you go through girls like Cade chews through Ana’s pies, but that girl is the only one who was able to chew through you and spit you out again.”
“Again, Dad, thank you. Hearing about how much of a wuss I am is really helping.”
Dad smirks and leans back against the bench, folding his arms over his huge beer gut as he lets out a soft chuckle.
“I’m not saying you were a wuss, Son. Hell, when I lost both your mothers I cried for months. It’s a natural part of loss—human nature, and all that shit. All I know, kid, is that if you want something bad enough, if you can’t get through t
he fuckin’ day without thinking about all the things you wanna do to her, then you shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, transferring his weight from foot to foot. “Quit fighting. She hurt you once, but the way I see it, you’re still fucking standing. That heart’s still beating. Man the fuck up and hand it over to her. If she stomps on it and walks away, then you got your answer, but at least you didn’t fuckin’ wuss out because you were too afraid to get hurt again.”
“I’m not wussing out, Dad.” I say, folding my arms across my chest, the mirror of his. “I’ve tried. If she doesn’t want this there’s not a whole lot I can do—short of tying her to my bed.”
“Then bloody well try harder, kid. Your sister and Cade finally got their shit together, and look at ’em. Stop acting like a fucking sheila and get on with it already. I’m not gettin’ any younger, and as much as I love little Lil, one grandchild isn’t enough for this old coot. I’m a greedy old bastard that way.” Dad laughs, and just as I’m about to veto the grandchild comment for a very long time, his face contorts and he staggers back against the bench.
“Dad, are you alright?” Ana lurches forward as I look on in stunned silence. She hovers by his side, gripping his elbow in a white-knuckled hold as Dad clutches his chest and releases a cry of pain.
“I’m alright, kiddo, just an after-shock. Get me a drink of water, will you?”
“Sam,” Ana prompts, unwilling to let go of Dad.
“Shit, sorry,” I unfreeze and hurry over to the sink.
This is not the first time we’ve dealt with this sort of thing. Dad had a heart attack almost a year ago now, hence the pacemaker. Thank god Sue had been there, or we may have lost him. Since then, he and Sue have retired and they spend most weekends travelling up the coast to some secluded rainforest camping ground in their campervan. I pull a glass from the shelf beside the sink and shove it under the running tap, filling the glass.
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