I lean against the table.
“She knows I’m twenty-nine, right?” I ask.
“And yet you’re living at home.”
“If that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black,” I say as Daniel dries his hands off.
“I’ve got a good reason,” he says. “You, on the other hand, have been freeloading for three months now.”
“I wasn’t sure I was staying,” I say.
“Are you?”
“I’ve got no plans to leave,” I tell him.
Not that it hasn’t crossed my mind. Sprucevale is the exact same small town I left ten years ago, with all the good and the bad that comes along with it.
“But you haven’t signed a lease or even bought a couch,” he points out.
“I bought a stand mixer because Mom didn’t have one,” I say. “It’s right there.”
“What a commitment.”
“It’s a really nice stand mixer.”
Daniel sighs. He leans back against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest, dressed in lazy Sunday gear — sweatpants and an old t-shirt that says GO WITH THE FLOW! SPRUCEVALE RIVER FEST on it in faded letters.
“Are you deliberately changing the subject from you not coming home the last two nights?” he asks.
Yes. Yes, I am.
“I called Friday,” I protest.
“True,” he says, in a tone that still demands explanation.
“I had to work late last night,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “And I actually came home around two, then went out again —”
“Nah,” he says.
“I got drunk with some coworkers —”
“You know I’m not going to believe any explanation that doesn’t involve Violet, right?”
I lean back in my chair, drumming my fingers on the table.
“Fine. I slept with Violet,” I finally say.
Daniel just nods. I’ve never seen anyone look less surprised.
“I’m not sure it was a good idea,” I say, slowly, studying at the back of my hand on the table.
“Because it was bad, or because it’s Violet?” he asks.
Daniel has always had my measure the most of all my brothers. It’s probably because we’re so close in age, but I’ve never been able to get much past him. Thankfully, he’s also the chill one.
“Because it’s Violet,” I say. “It wasn’t bad at all.”
Understatement of the year.
“She thinks we should just be fuckbuddies,” I say.
“Are you buddies?” Daniel asks.
I just spread my hands and shrug dramatically.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Usually I at least like the people I have sex with. This is new territory.”
Not that I’ve had sex with tons of people, or any at all in the past six months. But the women I date and sleep with usually at least get along with me.
“So you and Violet Tulane, the girl whose name I’ve heard come out of your mouth more than anyone else since time immemorial, are just casually having sex and that’s it,” he says.
I don’t like the way he says it.
“Right,” I say.
“You had a two-night sex bender and it was no big deal.”
“Friday night I really was at work,” I say. “Violet’s order of origami cranes came in low so I helped her fold…”
Daniel’s eyebrows shoot upward.
“…five hundred more and don’t fucking give me that look,” I finish.
“I’m giving you the look you deserve.”
I drum my fingers on the table. I stare at Daniel. He stares back, the world’s most skeptical look on his face.
“What does Mom want me to make for Sunday Dinner?” I finally ask.
“She said something about spaghetti and meatballs, I think.”
“Is Charlie coming?”
“Yeah, she’s back in town.”
“Is Silas?”
“Ask Levi.”
I stand and walk to the fridge, opening it to survey my Sunday dinner options.
“Have you noticed that I haven’t hassled you even once about Charlie?” I ask. “Not once, Daniel.”
“I think you just did.”
I pull two packages of ground beef from the fridge and toss them in the sink.
“That’s not hassling. When I hassle you, you’ll know you’ve been hassled,” I say.
“We’ve been friends since we were like ten,” Daniel says. “Charlie is basically my sister. Screw off.”
I snort.
“Screw off?”
“Shut up,” he sighs. “Force of habit. Rusty overhead me tell Seth that someone was being a real dickhead and I got calls from her kindergarten teacher for a week. Apparently that’s what she wanted to name the class iguana.”
I start laughing.
“And she convinced half the other kids it was a good idea,” he mutters. “I was not popular at the next PTA meeting.”
“Are you ever?” I ask, hunting through the cupboards for stale bread.
Now Daniel grins.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m almost the only man who ever goes to those things, and I’m definitely the only single one,” he says. “Yeah, I’m popular.”
I find a can of breadcrumbs, which will also work, and look over at Daniel.
“Well, shit, stud,” I say. “Back to your old ways?”
“One of Rusty is plenty,” he says dryly.
“You could be smarter this time around,” I point out.
“I’m being smarter by not even going there,” Daniel says. “Crystal makes sure I’ve got plenty of drama in my life.”
“How is Crystal?” I ask.