Estelle interrupted the conversation as she entered the dining room carrying a bowl with a big wooden spoon sticking out of it. She always wore slightly different versions of the same outfit: jeans with a little flare at the bottom and a button-down shirt with a pattern. With the exception of the fitted dresses she showed off in pictures on her Facebook, she always dressed the same way. I had never really seen Estelle less than put together, even during that first year of their marriage when we all lived under the same roof. My brother and I would come downstairs before school and she would offer us eggs or toast and have fresh coffee left over from my dad, who left early each day for physical training. Her perfect outfits were a kind of uniform.

Today’s top was striped blue and red. She told me once, while staring at both of our bodies in the mirror in the hallway, that she liked to buy these fitted shirts because of the way they flattered her shape. She twisted her torso like a model when she said it, as if she was having fun bonding with her new husband’s daughter. It had been excruciating and made me feel like complete shit about the way I looked. I already had a complicated relationship with my body, and the last thing I needed was my new size-two stepmother telling me how to dress. Bonding for her was triggering for me and I don’t know that I’ll ever have the courage to tell her that.

“So, um, Kael is Elodie’s husband’s friend,” I said, avoiding eye contact with my dad. “And he knows Austin. He’s going to eat with us, okay? He’s locked out of his car.” I didn’t want to go through all the details, so I hoped my fragmented word vomit made enough sense to avoid further questioning.

Estelle motioned for Kael to sit next to my dad. Kael glanced at me, then toward my dad. They shared a look I couldn’t recognize, and as Kael went to sit down, I held my arm out, motioning for him to sit on the other side of me, as I took the chair next to my father. No need for Kael to occupy the hot seat.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard from your brother?” my dad inquired, skipping the niceties and small talk.

I pulled out my phone. “I missed a call from him.”

“He’s on his way.”

“He’s on his way where?” I asked.

“He’s coming here, Karina.” My dad took a long, slow drink of water as I wondered why the hell Austin would turn up at our dad’s house. “He was arrested last night. Neither of you knew about it?” My dad’s eyes were a carbon copy of my brother’s. Bright blue ice.

I half stood up from my chair. “What? For what?”