Spider

“Rose, look, it didn’t mean anything. Sex never means anything with me.”

“Nice to know you’re such a slut.” I ball my fists up.

Why did I let him affect me like this?

Because you’d liked him.

In the periphery of my gaze, I see him rub his face, his hands scrubbing at the dark shadow on his face.

“I didn’t even kiss her—I don’t ever kiss them.” He doesn’t say the words to my face, but rather at the seat in front of him.

I ignore him and stare out the window.

The plane begins its descent. Normally I’d be clinging to the seat, my heart in my throat, but I’m too revved up.

“I always screw shit up,” he mutters.

We come to a halt on the landing strip and he shoots up as soon as we can, making his way to Heidi, who hands him his guitar and a piece of paper.

Probably with her phone number on it.

I hate to break it to her, but he won’t be calling.

He sends a look back over his shoulder at me and my eyes blaze at him, even as my throat tightens.

I feel stupid.

Naïve.

At the exit, he turns around one more time, and his eyes meet mine as he tosses a tentative hand up as if to say goodbye.

I give him a one-finger salute.

He disappears from my view just as my phone buzzes with a text from Anne.

Robert and I are waiting for you downstairs next to baggage claim. We have a surprise for you. ☺ Love you bunches! Anne

Pushing down my anger at Spider, I groan. I hate Anne’s surprises. Last year it was a drive to Tin Town to see my old house and neighborhood. She said it was because she wanted me to see how far I’ve come, but mostly I just felt sick, remembering Lyle and Mama. I hate Tin Town and what it took from me, yet it’s who I am, and somehow I don’t think I can ever outrun that.

What’s going on? I respond.

You get to meet your new stepbrother today.

Oh. I frown, already in a shit mood. I can’t recall Anne even telling me Robert Wainwright had a son.

But then I didn’t know much about Robert at all. He and Anne are newly married and just back from their honeymoon.

Another text comes in but I don’t check it because I’m too busy exiting the plane. I make a stop at the restroom to freshen up and change clothes before Anne sees me in this dress, which I know she won’t approve of. I’m not a people pleaser, but I do try to keep things easy between us. How could I not? For the past four and a half years, she’s taken care of me. She took me out of a foster system that was doing me no favors. In fact, the last home I lived in before Anne, I had to fight to keep one of the older boys from crawling in my bed at night. I was later removed from that house for kicking his teeth in. Trust me, Anne has her quirks, but without her, I never would have gotten to go to a private school or have nice clothes.

She wants a perfect little Highland Park girl and I do my best.

Except for secretly applying to NYU.

And getting my butterfly tattoo in New York.

Feeling excited, I look in the mirror and tug down the back of my dress at my neck to see how it’s doing. Still red and sore, the hand-sized butterfly sits about three inches below my nape, and I know Anne is eventually going to see it, but I don’t care. I’m in love with it because it reminds me of the beautiful boy who came into my life briefly when I was eleven. He flitted in and gave me hope. His kindness meant something and seeing it is a reminder.

Inside a stall, I take off my dress and slip on a pair of brown leggings and a modest, high-neck, maroon-colored sweater Anne bought for me. I pull out a pair of taupe booties and push them on my feet. After I dress, I remove the red lipstick and apply pink instead. I brush on a light coat of mascara, powder the sheen off my nose, and brush out my long hair until it shines.

After stuffing the dress and Converse into my backpack, I make my way to baggage claim, craning my neck to find Anne’s blonde hair.

Because Robert is tall and dressed conspicuously in an expensive suit, I find him immediately and see Anne behind him. Dressed conservatively in a knee-length pencil skirt and heels with impeccable makeup, she has her attention on Robert and the person he’s talking to—a tall guy in a gray leather jacket.

Whatttt?

I stop breathing as realization dawns.

Robert’s English. Spider’s English.

No.

No way in hell.

My eyes bounce back and forth between Robert and Spider as they stand there talking.

They’re nothing alike.

They’re like night and day, fire and ice.

Maybe they’re just chatting, old buddies who realized they were from the same country.

My phone pings again and I pull it out to see two texts from Anne. The first one was sent while I was still on the plane but was too busy to get.

Your stepbrother was on the plane.

And there it is . . . confirmed.

The next one is Where are you?

She must have just sent it.

I look back up to watch as Anne turns to Spider and hugs him. It doesn’t take a person like me who reads others well to see that she’s uncomfortable with him right away. The truth is in her stiff countenance and the way she keeps throwing glances Robert’s way. Robert moves to stand next to her as both of them talk to Spider. I don’t miss that his dad’s eyes are narrowed on him, raking over him, as if searching for something.

Spider hasn’t seen me yet, and I watch as he pushes back hair that has fallen into his face, tugging on the ends as if he’s anxious. I notice the vulnerable look to his shoulders as he slumps down to fiddle with his guitar. A small part of me forgets my anger and wonders what’s going on with him and his dad.

I cling to my pillow and pretend it’s a wall between Spider and myself as I march over to where they stand. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure everyone in the vicinity can hear it. I’m nervous and angry yet strangely excited about seeing Spider again.

“Clarence has been on the road for the past few months,” Robert’s telling Anne as I approach.

“Can’t you call me Spider like everyone else?” Spider says, a tightness to his face.

Robert ignores him, his eyes going over Spider’s shoulder to me. He motions for him to be quiet. “Hang on, there’s Rose,” I hear him say.

Anne waves and then grabs my hand as I reach them. She pulls me in for a light cheek kiss, the scent of her perfume familiar and comforting even though we aren’t terribly close. I smile broadly at her as she asks how I am and how the flight was. I reply normally. No way am I going to let on anything about Spider. I can already sense that things are iffy between him and his dad, and no matter his faults, I don’t want to add to their particular family drama.

I watch out of my peripheral vision as Spider slowly turns to face me.

Surprise is on his face, more so as his eyes take in the change of clothing and the subdued lipstick.

Robert, who I only met a few months ago when Anne announced she was pregnant, smiles at me. We’re still feeling each other out, but my initial impression of him is that he’s a lot like Anne . . . conservative and a bit unemotional.

He gestures to Spider. “Clarence, I’d like for you to meet Rose, your new stepsister.”

Spider grasps my hand, and a current zips between us. I recall that kiss on the plane even though I don’t want to.

Both of us just stand there.

I think he’s reeling.

I know I am.

I tug my hand away, realizing we’ve been holding hands too long for it to be normal.