Love in the Time of Cynicism (7 page)

It’s stupid, but it’s important.

Then Rhett’s out the door and jogging toward me. Engulfed in the halo of growing light, his curly dark hair flies everywhere and is childhood crazy as his already sunlight colored eyes ignite with sunshine. He squints and wrinkles his nose to compensate. Rhett pulls the sleeves of his navy blue sweatshirt down as if it’s cold and he isn’t wearing shorts. It occurs to me fleetingly that, despite the usual Texas heat, I haven’t seen him in short sleeves. Curiosity strikes me until I chock it up to not knowing him long enough. Rhett’s probably got great arms (seriously, only people with great arms wear leather jackets) just waiting to be seen at the most convenient time. So I ignore it.

Before he has the chance to see me properly, I tug at the hem of my shorts and adjust my hair in its ponytail as if some sort of improvement could be made on the look I spent forty five minutes on, significantly longer than I would’ve spent had Rhett not been involved. My hair’s not quite long enough to stay in a ponytail anymore

“You look phenomenal as usual, Cordelia Kane.”

I smile, bump into him lightly as we head up the sidewalk. “You don’t have to call me by my full name all the time, you know.”

“Unlike any possible nickname, it fits exceptionally well with the rest of you,” he answers immediately.

“And what exactly does that mean?

Rhett glances over at me as if the answer is completely obvious. “
Del
is the name of a preppy blonde who has no fun, like your stepsister,
Delia
is the name of a dark poetic gothic girl constantly resenting her name, but
Cordelia
. That’s the name of a fun, somewhat spontaneous gorgeous nerd with multicolored hair and a fetish for half-Filipino future models.”

“Well that’s three things I learned about you.”

He stops walking right before we reach the door. “Three?”

“One: you are so aware of your own attractiveness that you honestly think modeling is a logical profession. Two: you’re half Filipino, and I’m probably going to find out the other half when I meet your family. Three: you think I’m gorgeous.”

He shrugs and grins. “I am merely mortal and unable to resist the pull of the goddess.”

“Did you seriously call me a goddess?” I tease lightly, “We’ve known each other for three days and you think we’re to that point?”

“Oh absolutely.” Rhett pauses, looks me over for a second and says, “Don’t freak out when you meet my family.

Nervousness leaps into my chest. “Why would I freak out? I was completely fine until you said that.”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and rests a hand on the door. “They’re just…weird, is all. My little brother, Sawyer, is kind of a nut. The twins are wackjobs. And our sister Tannis turned thirteen last month and is going through a Katy Perry phase. Whenever there’s a teenage girl here, which isn’t often, by the way, she gets weird. If she asks you for makeup tips or bra advice, feel free to ignore her.”

“That won’t be a problem because those are both areas I know nothing about.”

He pauses, smirks, stares at me.

“Jesus, did I really say that? Sometimes things come out of my mouth I don’t mean when I’m nervous. Obviously I know something about bras or I wouldn’t be wearing one. I’m going to stop talking now.”

Rhett laughs at my pain. “Good idea. It’s just breakfast. Nothing to worry about.”

And then we walk into the chaos. It’s the opposite of where I expected Rhett to live, not that I’ve seen his room or anything. The walls are various shades of freshly-painted citrus from lemony yellow to grapefruit pink but most are colored with marker or crayon drawings and the carpet is white and splashed with stains. My mother would have a heart attack if she saw the state of this place. But to me, it’s perfect. With the assortment of magazines and CD stacks and clutter and unpacked boxes along with the shouting of children, the place feels alive in a way I haven’t felt before.

We’re in the bright kitchen and immediately there’re two tiny boys racing around my legs chanting
who are you are you Rhett’s girlfriend why is your hair blue are you an alien?

Rhett pulls them away from me and taps them on the head successively. “This is Evan-” the smaller of the two with a goofy grin and too many freckles for his own good who also happens to look like a smaller version of Rhett “- and Ethan-” who’s got curly blond hair and pale skin like Trent did when he was a kid. “The twins.”

Silently, I run through the list of races I think this family could belong to. Filipino and…Irish? German? Austro-Scandinavian? I can’t tell but I’m itching to know more about Rhett’s family.

Footsteps pad over the hardwood over the kitchen and who must be the Tressler parents emerge. They’re not quite what I was expecting. Both are tall and lanky but not as much as Rhett, who must be around six two and is currently watching me intently. His mom is tall – maybe even my height – and has more curves than I do, with big blond curls and light blue eyes and freckles. I figured his mom would be petite and Asian and I’m shocked by how classic Southern belle she is, like a middle-aged Miss America. Her husband’s only a few inches taller, with Rhett’s caramel skin and eyes, and he rocks a stubbly black beard over his round face.

Mr. Tressler walks toward us and scoops up one of the boys in each arm. They cling to him and laugh as he plants kisses on their heads. Mrs. Tressler comes over to me and engulfs me in a huge hug while talking in a thick Southern accent.

“You must be Cordelia. Rhett’s told us
so much
about you.” She cuts a well-meaning glance with terribly suggestive eyebrows to her eldest son. “Not nearly enough, of course.”

“Susie, don’t smother the poor girl,” Mr. Tressler cuts in and turns to me, still toting both boys. “It’s great to meet you. You can call me Joel and her Susie.”

“Serious, dad? You want my future girlfriend to call my parents by their first names?” Rhett rolls his eyes sarcastically and removes the latching twins from their father’s arms and sends them off to play.

He replies, “Most definitely,” precisely the moment I ask, “Future girlfriend?”

“Don’t roll your eyes at your father, kiddo,” His mom – Susie, I guess – reprimands Rhett.

He shrugs. “I didn’t roll my eyes, mom, I just needed to take a brief inspection of the ceiling.”

Suddenly there’s screaming from down the hall, high pitched and traumatized like a six year old girl’s just found her dead parents on the bathroom floor. Morbid, sorry.

Susie sighs, pulling out several pans from cabinets and setting them on the stove. The countertops ring the room, interrupted by the fridge, oven, and dishwasher with a large dark oak table. Mr. Tressler joins her in cutting up fruits and they talk quietly to one another. “Take care of that for me, dear?”

Rhett nods without a second thought. “Join me?”

“How did you know my favorite pass time is handling pre-teen crises?” I joke as he leads me down a hallway and into a pale purple bathroom where his sister stands with a look of pure terror plastered on her face. There’s a wall to wall mirror with a loaded counter under it. Soap, perfume, makeup, hair products, the works.

She’s a mixture of the two parents more than any of the others I’ve seen. She’s got her mom’s voluminous honey blonde hair and freckles but her dad’s brown eyes and tan skin. Her crooked teeth are caged into multi-colored braces and she’s wearing what could only be described as the outfit of an underage stripper. Too-short shorts and a black halter top with an obvious stuffed push up bra. She’s like a tiny Amanda but looks much nicer. She’s squinting with one contact in, makeup smeared and smudged over her skin, and she glares at Rhett and me the moment we walk in.

Rhett goes protective before she can get a word in. “Oh my god, Tannis, there’s no way you’re wearing that to school on my watch.”

“I can’t get my other contact in, can you help me please?” Her words are slurred and marred by the dental gear and embarrassed tears fall quickly down her overly-blushed cheeks. I feel for her, really, after living through my longer than necessary awkward pre-teen years. I too wore thick coats of goop and tried to crimp my hair until it burned to distract from my height and lack of curves.

“Get that crap off your face and come to breakfast.”

I turn to him as she cries some more and tries to shove her contact back on her eye. She fails and I sigh heavily, “Rhett, I think you should let me handle this one. Woman to woman.”

He stares guardedly at his little sister, wanting like any good older brother to protect her innocence and all that jazz. But he concedes. “Good luck.”

I shoo him out of the small room as the scent of bacon wafts in from the kitchen. He shuts the door behind him and I lean against it.

Tannis sniffles and slumps down on the lavender toilet lid cover. “Who
are
you?”

“Your fairy godmother,” I explain with the straightest face possible. “Here to bring you makeup tips and bra advice. Not something I ever thought I’d do, but I see now that the situation demands it.”

She looks at me dubiously, half squinting, and asks, “
You
know something about makeup?”

“More than you would expect from someone who doesn’t wear any.” I pause, grab some wipes from the counter. “Pro tip: the less, the better. Blush is for middle aged women with self confidence problems and lipstick is for the elderly who won’t get yelled at for wearing it.”

She laughs quickly and swats at her tears. I lean forward awkwardly and wipe off the foundation, blush, lipstick, and running mascara until the cloth is thick with makeup.

“Try again, Tannis.” I give her a reassuring smile. “This time with brown eyeliner and pink lip gloss. And never draw on your eyebrows again. It’s tacky. I also recommend taking the tissues out of your bra and putting on a sweater, but that’s just my sensible side talking.”

“
You’re
wearing a tank top,” she argues.

“I’m also three and a half years older than you. And my shirt contains about four inches more fabric than yours. How about you change, wash and reapply your face, and then come out to eat breakfast with the rest of us?”

“Can you help me with my contacts first?”

“Why don’t you wear your glasses? They’d look great on you. Plus, guys dig girls with glasses.”

“How would you know?”

“For your information, I wear glasses and am currently in the process of reeling in my next boyfriend.”

She giggles conspiratorially, “You want to date
Rhett
? He’s so
guh-ross
!”

“He’s alright, but I’m only saying that because there’s a two hundred percent chance he’s listening outside the door right now.”

Rhett’s deep, not at all remorseful voice leaks under the door. “Caught me.”

“Go away, big brother.” Tannis rolls her eyes. “We’re having girl talk.”

“Very important stuff,” I add with a smile glued on my lips. Rhett’s family, though loud beyond measure, is great. I’ve never seen any families around here love each other and interact as freely as they do. My entire family is made up of repressed, spiteful people dying to get away from one another. Thinking of my family makes me want to spend time around theirs.

Once we hear Rhett leave and start to help his mom out in the kitchen, Tannis pulls out her contact and puts on a pair of large glasses.

“You change and I’ll meet you out there, alright?”

She nods and I stand up, meet Rhett in the kitchen.

“Handled it like an expert.”

He holds up his hand for a high five. “Nice job.”

I slap his hand, not sure why, and ask, “Any other crises I need to take care of for you?”

“Not as of right now, but I must admit I find a woman who knows how to handle extremely volatile situations exceedingly attractive.”

“Preteen hormones aren’t exactly new territory for someone who has them.” I pause, cringe. “There I go, saying strange things that are vaguely inappropriate to you. Oh well.”

Rhett smiles the grin I’ve yet to see on anyone else and helps his dad set the table while his mom finishes cooking.

Susie the Mother stacks chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, biscuits, and sausage on a bunch of platters and sets them on the table. Next come cartons of juice and milk which I help to facilitate. Butter, syrup, anything else you could possible need for a successful breakfast.

Joel the Father dashes out of the kitchen to get the one child I haven’t seen yet while Rhett guides me to a seat and plops down next to me. “Guess I should’ve mentioned that breakfast was at my house and not, like,
out
somewhere. And I’m really sorry about my family.”

“Why?” I look around at them – Sawyer the middle brother emerging with sleep in his eyes, Tannis popping her newly-freshened head out the bathroom door, the twins with their disgusting amount of early morning energy, and, most importantly, Rhett’s parents, with their arms around each other peering back and forth with love like I’ve never seen in their eyes. “They’re great. By far the best apology I’ve ever been given.”

“You’re welcome, Cordelia Kane.” He watches briefly as his family takes seats around the table. “And I
am
sorry, by the way. Though I’m not completely sure what I did was wrong, I didn’t want to irritate you or hurt you or anything like that.”