Page 82 of Witch Please

The sun was setting when the driver dropped them off at Dad’s house. He and Susan had opted not to do an airport pickup, surprising no one. Jared was gone, some last-minute road trip with his high school friends before they all went their separate ways.At least I get my own room while I’m here.

That was better than the last visit, when he’d crashed on an air mattress and listened to his stepbrother complain about him audibly in some group chat. Dad and Susan did greet them at the door, but Lucy beat them by offering huge hugs. The kid could hardly keep still, stumbling over herself to ask a hundred questions about the house and St. Claire and even Doris, who was at home with Trevor.

Titus showed off a few pictures of the dog, house, and yard, though he didn’t mention the quickie update of Lucy’s room. Some of the edge had finally come off his anger. He might never love Susan, but he did have to accept that Dad had moved on. Faster than Titus thought was kind, but it wasn’t his life.

Susan had made chili in the slow cooker, a weird choice, but he supposed living in hell’s own furnace, where the seasons were hot and really hot, one couldn’t let the weather dictate the menu, or it would be salad and cold cuts, all day, every day. The food was good, and Susan insisted on topping it with all kinds of stuff, including shredded cheese, scallions, sour cream, and Fritos. He swapped a look with Maya and Lucy, who indicated that he should just eat it that way and be quiet.

He took a bite. Yeah, not his first choice; the Fritos were too much. Since Susan was watching him so expectantly, he gave a big smile. “Wow.”

“See? I told you this is the best.” Susan devoured half a bowl and then dashed to the bathroom with his dad chasing her.

“Okay, now dump it and make it however you want,” Lucy said quickly. “Do it fast. Otherwise, if she finds out you think her condiment style needs improvement, she’ll cry and say it’s because you hate her.”

Maya made a face as everyone sprang into action and activated the garbage disposal like it was the bat signal that would summon a food crusader to save them. They were all seated eating their dinner calmly when Dad and Susan came back, looking a bit green. The old man was nagging her, by the sounds of it.

“Babe, the doctor told you to lay off spicy food. You can’t keep it down.”

“But it’s all I want right now,” she wailed.

Oh Jesus.

He shot an alarmed look at Maya. Part of him had thought that maybe Lucy was exaggerating, but it was clear that Susan was 60 percent hormones, 35 percent tears, and 5 percent fetus. Since he’d been four when his mom had been pregnant with Maya, he couldn’t remember if she’d acted this way or not. Honestly, it was funny watching his old man try to step up and be comforting when his go-to mode was to yell at people for fucking up.

Try that on your pregnant wife. I dare you.

Thankfully, this wasn’t a long trip. Tomorrow, they’d participate in whatever surprise Susan had planned and suffer through a communal meal. She wanted to bond as a family since she was ambivalent, at best, about Lucy leaving. Susan had already asked a thousand awkward questions about Titus’s social life, like he’d make Lucy listen to him knocking boots all night long. Ironic, really.

“Should we watch a movie in the den?” Susan asked.

Dammit, he just wanted to withdraw to Jared’s room and crash—it had been a long day—but he forced a smile. “Sure. Nothing too scary, Maya will have nightmares.”

His sister nudged him. “Whatever, you’re the one who cried when I sang theA Nightmare on Elm Streettheme song outside your bedroom door. One, two—”

“That’s enough,” Dad said, just like when they were kids.

Susan decided they were having a Will Ferrell marathon and started withEurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga.That sounded bananas, and he wasn’t too into it until a bearded guy named Olaf came on and started yelling about a song named “Jaja Ding Dong.” Titus laughed until he almost fell over, and he saw that everyone was relaxed, cracking up, and it was…okay. Good, even. He’d thought that visits would always suck, but maybe…they didn’t have to.

He had a sister on either side, poking him, rocking forward at the funniest bits while Dad was rubbing Susan’s feet in the loveseat. Even that didn’t bother him any longer, sort of like being furious that someone forgot to shut the barn door after the horse got out. The only thing left to do was catch the horse, really. Hmm, the baby wasn’t a horse, so maybe that wasn’t the best analogy.

Everything about the movie hit just right: wholesome, hilarious, and surprisingly heartwarming. When he first sat down, he intended to watch one movie begrudgingly and bolt as soon as possible, but when Susan suggested a break before the next one, he didn’t move.Two, two is a good number. Shows goodwill more than perfunctory participation.

During the intermission, Susan made popcorn on the stove using spicy sesame oil. Titus had never tasted anything like it. Really good, peppery without being dusted with powder that got all over his fingers, and the heat built as he ate. Before, he’d felt guilty enjoying anything his stepmother did, like it made him a bad person and a disloyal son.

“This is delicious,” he said softly.

“Yeah? That’s quite a compliment coming from you! I got the idea from a food blog I check regularly. If you’re interested, I can send you a couple of links.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

The next Will Ferrell wasn’t quite as good as the first, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. It was late now; surely it had been long enough for him to go to bed without Dad thinking he was being difficult or uncooperative. But before he could voice that intention, the doorbell rang.

Lucy bounded up. “I’ll get it.” She trotted off, and he heard her talking to someone, but he couldn’t make out the words, just the rise and fall of their voices.

“Do you think it’s about the coyotes?” Dad asked.

Susan shrugged, picking up the dishes, and Maya plucked the glasses and bowls from her and took them to the kitchen, more than she would’ve done for Susan a month ago. Their stepmother followed, and he could hear them chatting, not monosyllables like Maya used to offer. Like it or not, things were changing. When a pan clattered, Dad hurried into the kitchen, presumably to help.

He never did that with Mom.

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