Page 97 of The Logic of Loyalty

Chapter Thirty-One

TREVOR

You’ve got to be kidding me.

My sister sits on the side of the road under a sad tree. Her head is buried in her arms, and she looks so small like this. Paige slows down the moment we see her and lets out a quiet, “Oh, Bethany.”

Bethany’s hands run through her long black hair when she sits up, and she visibly tugs at the strands. Nothing about the move looks gentle. They drift down, then across her own shoulders, where she hugs herself, dropping her chin to stare at the road. Paige jerks the Suburban to a stop and throws it into park before leaping out of the driver’s door. The sound pulls Bethany’s focus from the road. She looks through Paige at first, but once recognition registers, her bottom lip begins to quiver before she ruthlessly bites it.

Paige doesn’t hesitate, throwing herself at Bethany and pulling her into a massive hug. I give them a moment, leaning over to shut off the Suburban. I scoot across the bench seat and jump out of the driver’s seat, shutting the door behind me. Paige and Bethany are talking in hushed tones as I approach. It’s my wife’s voice that reaches me first.

“Wait, wait. Back up. You got the job?”

“Oh, well, yeah.” There’s a hesitant joy in Bethany’s voice that makes me feel like ten times the ass all over again. When I started working for my father, and Bethany was sixteen, I asked my mother when Bethany was going to start working at the bank. I was soundly corrected for my ignorance. Bethany did not have to work, and I resented her for the freedom from our father’s hell. Of course, she was never free.

“Congratulations! I’m so excited for you!”

“I mean, it’s just the coffee shop.” She’s not being self-deprecating in a performative way, and Paige immediately recognizes it.

“Oh, you stoppit. It’s your first real job, and you did it all on your own. You need to be proud of yourself.”

Bethany nods, but avoids making eye contact with either of us. “You didn’t both need to get me. I have my phone.” She lifts it in the air. “Obviously.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and I don’t know how she isn’t melting in this heat.

“First of all, congrats on the job. Secondly, could you explain the situation to me to the best of your ability? Please don’t leave anything out.”

“Trevor—”

“Trust me, Paige. Please?”

She studies my face and dips her chin. Then, when both women look at me with trust in their expressions, a piece of me I’ve been chasing for weeks—months—settles into place. A certainty that I’m doing the right thing with the right people. That the logic of loyalty I’ve been misguided by for the majority of my life is finally, firmly replaced by the chaos of love.

A flash of movement up by our family’s house catches my eye just beyond and above Paige and Bethany. There, on the porch, my mother watches us. She looks cozy, like she’s settled in and relaxed while watching her daughter wander the neighborhood in this blazing afternoon heat. Even from this distance, she meets my eyes from her seat in the shade and lifts her drink for an unbothered sip.

I see red. Some of that recently unleashed violence thrums through me as I head for Bethany’s little car further up the drive.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Paige calls after me, scrambling to keep up with my long strides.

“I’m fixing this.” I look back at my sister, who is frozen by the Suburban and shaded by the sad tree. “I’ll be back.” Her mouth opens and closes without a sound, but ultimately she nods, while Paige continues up to the car, remaining by my side.

When I get to the little coupe, I run my hand along the back of the car, feeling for the button to the trunk. Once my fingers make out the shape of it, I press down, but nothing happens. Not surprising, but it would have made things easier. I dust my hand along my suit pants and slowly walk around to the rear, driver’s side door. I gently pull that handle. Also locked. Circling the vehicle, I pull the handle of each door to no avail, getting louder and more aggressive with each failed attempt. I pop the handle of the final door and spin to my mother, now rigid in her seat, but remaining on the porch.

“Good afternoon, Mother. Can you unlock the car so we can grab everything from inside it?” She shakes her head and remains on the upper porch. I pretend I don’t understand her meaning. “Okay, that’s no big deal. Just point me in the direction of the keys, and I can do it myself.”

“It’s not her car, Trevor. Who knows what’s in there that belongs to us and what actually belongs to her? It’s a privilege she lost, and she can’t afford her own.”

I turn to find that Bethany has joined Paige and me by her car. “That’s funny, I thought that it was her job to—oh. What was it, Bethany? Help Mother plan events, keep the house clean, and run errands for the home?” She nods. “And did they pay you for that work?” She shakes her head.

Mother sputters, but, to my amazement, Bethany speaks up. “She didn’t want me to get a regular job because that was beneath us, but also didn’t want me to go to college because it would be a waste of money.” Her voice carries enough to make our mother stand up in outrage.

“I did not! Her grades—she barely passed her classes—didn’t do any clubs. The colleges would never have⁠—”

“I had straight As and Bs! I scored well on my national assessments, and you wouldn’t let me—” I grunt and start circling the car again, this time checking the windows.

“You quit everything you joined⁠—”

“You refused to give me rides and complained I wasn’t any good⁠—”

I palm the rock in my pocket but decide it’s too small. I need something sturdier … I jog back to the Suburban to grab my tire iron from the trunk. Thankfully, neither of us is a packrat, so it’s easy to find in the mostly empty trunk.