Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Deja
When we enter the house, Mom and Devin are in the family room. They’re both wearing their church clothes, but obviously didn’t go to church. I don’t think we can talk our way out of this one. Though showered, we’re both wearing the same clothes we had on last night.
“Where have you been?” my mother asks, stalking into the foyer. Devin is right behind her, his expression angry.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “We fell asleep and overslept.”
“You both fell asleep? Where?”
“Um, a friend’s,” I say.
“Rourke’s,” Brandon says, as if he’s daring them to object.
“Isn’t he the one who uses drugs?” my mom asks.
“We didn’t do drugs,” I say quickly, but Brandon undercuts me, shaking his head.
“We only smoked weed,” he says.
“What is your problem?!” I snap at him.
“My problem is you’re on the defensive when they’re the ones who have a lot to answer for. We’re both adults, Deja. We’re not beholden to them.”
“Young man,” Devin says, wading into the conversation for the first time. “You live in our house. You want to be adults and stay out all night—get your own apartment. As long as you live here—“
“You’d better follow our rules,” Brandon mocks.
All of us stare at him with our mouths agape. He is really pushing it.
“Deja,” Brandon says, “give me the pictures.”
“I’m not sure…” His look is withering, and I comply, not entirely happy with him but also curious to see what he’s going to do. This is a lot more confrontational than what I had planned, but I understand that he’s applying the “good offense” defense.
He shows a picture, holding it up so both of them can see.
“Who is this man, Devin?”
I had always thought of Devin as a sweet, even slightly clueless guy with a tendency to tell lame dad jokes. But when he says, “I have no idea,” so credibly that I almost believe him I get chills.
“That’s my late husband,” my mom chimes in. “Where did you get that picture?”
“It was with my mom’s photo albums,” Brandon lied. “I found it in the basement.”
Brandon holds up the next picture, this one showing Dad, Devin and my mom embracing.
Devin opens his mouth, ready to tell another lie (and can I say how disappointing his behavior is to me?) but my mom raises her palm in his direction and shakes her head.
“Let’s go have a seat in the living room,” my mother says.
The living room is formal, used only for special guests and important conversations.
When they’re about to dole out punishment, we go to Devin’s office but for a “family discussion,” it’s the formal living room.
It’s a wood-paneled room with stiff backed sofas and an antique inlaid wood table.
There’s a glossy fiddle leaf fig tree in one corner and a vase of fresh flowers on the side table.
I take a mint from the candy dish on the coffee table, twisting and twisting the plastic wrapper around.
“I want to apologize to you, Deja,” my mother says, “and to you as well, Brandon. We haven’t been completely honest with you. I didn’t fool you with that story about St. Joseph’s College, did I?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
She sighs. “I should have known. You’re so tenacious. When I met your father, he and Devin were roommates at McCrystal. All three of us became close friends, though obviously your father and I were more than friends.” She smiles, as if recalling a fond memory.
“When you were about five, Deja, I got a call from Devin letting me know about a job in his department. Even though I wouldn’t be reporting directly to him, Devin was on the hiring committee and technically shouldn’t have had any input on my hiring.”
“But he did,” I cut in.
“Yes, I did,” Devin says. “In light of that we felt that it would be smart not to mention our longtime friendship to anyone.”
“We would both have been penalized,” my mom says. “I might have lost my job, and we had moved here from out of state, David had just been accepted at his first practice. We couldn’t risk it.”
“But why keep lying for so many years. I’m sure you’ve proven yourself at this point. And why lie to me.”
“First, we’d be outing ourselves as liars,” Devin said. “Trust is a big part of being successful and once people see you as untrustworthy, it can cancel out all your good deeds.”
But you are untrustworthy, I think.
“And as for you, that’s even more embarrassing.
” My mother shifts in her seat, tugging down the hem of her skirt suit to cover her knees.
“When Devin and I became romantically involved, I worried it might be confusing if you knew that we had been friends when I was married to your father. Just the appearance…”
“We’re supposed to believe you lied for years,” Brandon says, “because you didn’t have an affair?”
“There was nothing romantic between us until after David’s passing,” Devin says earnestly.
But I just saw him lie convincingly about not knowing my father when they had, in fact, been best friends.
Devin was right. Once you knew someone was a liar, it really did make it hard to trust anything that came out of their mouth.
Brandon squeezes my hand, sensing my renewed agitation. Maybe my mom is telling the truth, but Devin is still lying about something, I can just feel it.
“Any other questions?” my mom asks.
“Did you guys ever hang out before my dad died? I have this weird memory of Devin being in the basement of our house on Goshen.”
They both shake their heads, though I notice a slight brittleness to my mom’s “reassuring” smile.
“We met for dinner a few times,” Devin says, “but that was always at restaurants. I never came by before David…left us, did I?”
My mother shakes her head again, a small mouth of displease distorting her lips. “I think the wake was the first time. But I think it’s your turn now, kids. What happened last night?”
“Just what we said,” Brandon responds.
“I was asking Deja.”
“It nothing exciting. We went to Olive Garden for dinner and then Brandon suggested we drop by Rourke’s cause we still had a while till curfew.”
“Why Rourke?”
“Most of my friends were at Christian Dubrov’s party and I hate his guts.”
“We got there, I peer pressured Deja into smoking weed and then she started falling asleep on her feet. I took her to an empty bedroom and left her on the bed. When it was time to go, I tried to wake her up, but she was dead to the world and I’d had some alcohol, so I lay down for a sec, just till I sobered up, and then I woke up this morning. ”
“The two of you slept together?”
“Not in the way you’re implying,” I say. “We were perpendicular to each other.”
“More like an L shape,” Brandon says. “You ended up at the foot of the bed.”
“Such a gentleman, isn’t he? Kicking a girl till she’s squashed up against the footboard.” We are cooking with gas here with this lying. I can’t tell if they’re buying it, but confusion has replaced anger, so I take that as a positive sign.
“We’ll need to discuss this between us,” my mom says, “but for right now, you’re grounded. School home—that’s it. No social media for a week.”
“A week!”
“And whatever else Devin and I decide once we’ve talked about it.”
“And since you got such a great night’s sleep, why don’t you get started on your chores. We’ll expect you to make lunch and dinner as well.”
“Both of us?”
“Both of you.
We try to act as if we’re suffering, but none of this is that bad.
We warm up soup and make sandwiches for lunch and we both enjoy making dinner.
I’m a little anxious about getting all my reading done, but it’s not a big problem.
As tense as our interactions are with my parents, we’re vibing.
It feels good to be near Brandon, and we work well together.
I know we need to be careful, now more than ever, but I’m feeling so good after last night, my body just gravitates towards his.
“I’m curious about something,” Devin says at dinner. “What were you doing in the basement? The area where we keep the storage boxes is locked.”
Brandon freezes for a moment. It’s quick but Devin doesn’t miss it. His expression is now more intent.
“I’m working on a gift for my mom,” Brandon says. “I thought the pictures might help her remember…before.”
“I told him about the boxes and where the keys were kept.”
“So you weren’t snooping around the basement?”
“Is there buried treasure down there or something?” Brandon jokes. Devin doesn’t even crack a smile.
“That area is off limits,” Devin says.
“Fine. I already found her old albums. Unless those are a national treasure or something.”
“Those may contain some of my memories, too.”
“No offense,” Brandon says, “but when you threw me and Mom out, I think you lost the right to say stuff like that.”
“Brandon,” my mother says, her eyes pleading for him to chill.
“Go to your room!”
Brandon rolls his eyes, “Without any bread?”
“You can take your dinner with you.”
“Do I have to stay in there? Deja’s supposed to help me with my math homework later.”
Devin’s eyes narrow. What is he thinking?
“That’s fine,” he says. “You can go to her room after dinner.”
I’m surprised he said my room. I would have thought they’d want to keep us apart, but then they don’t seem to suspect Brandon and I are more than friends. Is that because we did such an excellent job convincing them we dislike each other?
I help my mom load the dishwasher when we’re done eating, then go upstairs and rap on Brandon’s door. It’s ajar, so I poke my head in. He’s lying on his bed, reading a book I recognize from an English class I took last year.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Give me a sec.” He’s changed into sweatpants and a white t-shirt and looks sexy as hell. I try not to stare at his dick print. Sleeping, that thing is still impressive. He gathers the items he needs and follows me back to my room. He closes the door and I purse my lips.
“Is that smart?” I ask, clearing a spot on my desk for him to set his books down.
“Only if you don’t want us to be overheard every time one of them walks by.”
“Okay.”
Brandon has a big test coming up, so we spend about an hour reviewing the material and talking.
“Did you buy their story?”