Troy Salinger was already home and had been for quite some time. He was sprawled across the sofa in a pair of gray fleece pants and a faded university hoodie that he had never actually earned through a degree.
An empty energy drink can sat on the mahogany coffee table next to a dirty plate that he had managed to leave exactly twelve feet away from the dishwasher. He turned his head just enough to acknowledge my presence as the sports highlights flickered across the television screen.
“Hey, babe, that smells incredible,” he said with a casualness that sounded more like a rehearsed habit than genuine affection. I did not offer a verbal response immediately because I was moving with the surgical precision of a woman who knew that if she stopped for even a moment, the fatigue would finally win.
I salted the water and moved through the kitchen like a ghost in my own home while he waited until the food was actually plated to join me. He leaned against the marble counter with a loose expression on his face that I recognized from years of watching him avoid accountability.
“So my ten year high school reunion is coming up next month and I really need Kelsey to go with me,” he said while reaching for a napkin. I kept chewing my pasta because it took my brain a several seconds to translate his sounds into an actual sentence.
“Why on earth would my younger sister be the one accompanying you to your high school reunion,” I asked after I finally set my fork down. Troy did not look embarrassed or even slightly cautious as he sprinkled a mountain of cheese over his bowl.
“Back when we first started dating, some of the guys met Kelsey at that family party in the suburbs and they just assumed she was my girlfriend. I never really bothered to correct them because it didn’t seem to matter at the time,” he explained while refusing to meet my eyes.
He spoke about the lie as if it were a minor weather update rather than a fundamental erasure of my existence in his social world. “So now everyone basically thinks I ended up marrying her and I need her to come along as my wife for the night,” he added.
I felt the blood drain from my face so completely that the kitchen seemed to sharpen into a terrifyingly clear focus. “You told your childhood friends that you married my sister instead of me,” I whispered while the sound of the refrigerator hummed in the heavy silence.
