Page 16 of Every Broken Thing

6

Not Friends

Utensils clattered and clinkedagainst dishware as the four of us ate. I complimented the heavenly cooking profusely until Aunt June blushed like a teenager. It really was delicious, and I moaned and groaned as I stuffed my face until my stomach hung over my jeans like a muffin top.

“So, Silas,” Aunt June broke the comfortable silence as she tucked a stray chunk of graying blonde hair behind her ear, “are you on the team with Ben?”

“Oh no, I’m not one for sports,” I denied quickly before shoving another bite of meatloaf into my mouth.

“Oh? So what were you doing at the school so late?”

I swallowed my bite and took a sip of water before answering. “I was there for rehearsal. I’m the stage production manager for the play, and I was helping the cast run lines.”

“Stage production. That sounds exciting.”

“I guess. I just make sure the set and backgrounds are ready for the show, and I run the sound booth during the performance itself.”

The interrogation continued, Aunt June somehow forming words around her food without appearing unladylike. “Are you planning on college after graduation?”

“Yes, I just submitted a few applications, actually.”

“Oh? Where?”

“Um,” I wiped the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “I applied to UCLA where my brother goes, and Bloomington, but my first choice is NYU.”

“New York? That’s close to MIT, isn’t it, Ben?”

Ben rolled his eyes as I sent him a questioning head cock. “That’s her subtle way of bringing up MIT. She likes to sneak it into conversation at every possible opportunity.”

“I’m allowed to brag about my favorite nephew,” she admonished lightly.

“I’m her only nephew,” he mumbled, and I snorted into my water.

When everyone finished their food, Ben and I cleared the table and carried the dishes to the kitchen. We filled the dishwasher as Aunt June hovered behind us, like she feared we would do it incorrectly. I remembered my mom doing the same thing and when we finished, Aunt June—like my mom—crowded in to shift the dishes. Apparently, there was a right and wrong way to load a dishwasher.

I stacked the excess dishes and large pans on the counter as Ben filled the two sinks, one with soapy water and one clear.

“You wash, I’ll dry?” Ben slung a towel over one shoulder, and I rolled my sleeves to my elbows.

When Aunt June finished ‘correcting’ our dishwasher setup, she poured herself a glass of red wine and leaned against the counter. “So how did you boys meet?”

My hands froze in the warm suds as I formulated a believable answer, but Ben beat me to the punch. “We have Sociology together.”

Yes, we did!Good save, Benjamin.

As if he read my relieved thoughts, his lips pursed into an unhappy line, and I resisted the urge to smooth the wrinkles marring his forehead.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Aunt June’s unsatisfied tone belied her words, but she changed the subject before I could dwell on it. “You said you had a brother in California. Is that your only sibling?”

Ben’s expression pinched in irritation as he put away the baking dish I handed him. I wasn’t sure why his aunt’s game of twenty questions annoyed him. I was the one under investigation, after all.

“Yeah, he’s a junior in college now.” I passed the mashed-potato bowl, jolting when Ben’s fingertips brushed against mine during the hand-off. He pretended not to notice, but his jaw clenched.

“What’s he studying?”

“Business. But like, ethical eco-friendly business. Or something. I don’t really get it. His girlfriend’s studying to be an aura therapist or some hippie shit—I mean, crap,” I corrected quickly. “But don’t judge him for it.”

Aunt June chuckled, both at my slip-up and my clear lack of fondness for Will’s girlfriend. Cora was nice and all, but she was always reading my aura and telling me how depressing it was. Not to mention, I insulted her all the time by accident because, according to my brother, I didn’t know how to talk to girls. It didn’t really set the scene for a blossoming relationship between us.

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