Page 78 of Not Your Basic Love Story

He swept me up in a hug. “Baby sis! Surprise!”

Kyle was the type of guy you’d expect to see in most college fraternity houses. He had blond hair styled with far too much gel. His skin, what wasn’t covered in intricate Irezumi tattoos and various calligraphy in languages he didn’t understand, was tanned red-brown from living in Australia. Though he was dressed in a suit today, his clothes could usually be described as playboy surfer guy. Because, to be honest, that’s exactly what he was. He was the type of guy who never settled down, who always dated multiple women, and somehow thought the women were the problem in all his relationships, despite his inability to keep his dick in his pants.

The only thing that made it worse was that he was smart. Whip-smart. So smart, it made him kind of a jerk. He was a know-it-all, and he could back it up with data. While I’d worked my ass off to study and get into my engineering program, he partied through his and still graduated in a more prestigious program with a much higher GPA. Now he lived in Australia in a penthouse condo as a petroleum engineer making two hundred thousand dollars a year and spending pretty much all of it partying while I struggled to pay off my loans and rent in my tiny Vancouver shoebox.

Would he help me out if I asked him to?

Definitely.

Would I let him?

Absolutely fucking not.

“So, mom tells me you’re marrying an Indian,” he said once we’d set out on the road. He then proceeded to say something racist.

I gasped. “Kyle!”

He laughed. “Joking! Obviously.”

My jaw tightened, and eyes narrowed. “Please, for fucks sake, do not say anything even remotely like that tonight. Or ever. Okay?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see what’s so offensive, but whatever, Snowflake. He’s brown. I bet he drives a white Beemer.”

I reddened at the accuracy of this one particular stereotype that happened to be true in Dev’s case. “Please, Kyle. Don’t embarrass me. Don’t say racist shit.”

He acted mock-offended. “I’m not racist! I have lots of Black and Asian friends in Australia. One guy is even part Aboriginal!”

I ground my teeth and glared at him. “Please. I’m asking nicely.”

It was hard to believe we were biological siblings. He’d always been an asshole, yes, but this was the first time I’d ever heard him say something racist. Had my response been enough? I should have said more. I’d always imagined standing up to racism with gusto and bravery, but never thought I’d be dealing with it in my own family.

I lowered my head, swallowing hard. How could I be an ally to people of colour if I couldn’t even properly stand up to my brother? I mean, my future babies were going to be people of colour. They were likely to face obstacles I never had to and couldn’t even imagine because of my white privilege.

We drove in silence for a while before he spoke again. “Hey, how’s your job? Still making dildos?”

I sighed, exasperated. “I don’t make dildos and never have, Kyle. I used to help design the packaging they come in. We’ve moved on to other projects since then. And it’s great, actually. I love my job.” I hoped he couldn’t tell I was lying.

He laughed and shook his head, muttering, “Dildos.”

“Stop being such a dick!”

Mom piped up from the front seat. “Becky! Your brother came a long way to be here and surprise you! Be nice.”

And just like that, I was a child again, their genius golden boy unable to do wrong, and me pouting in the back seat wishing I was anywhere else. I couldn’t believe they were going to throw my brother, a live grenade of assholeness, into one of the most important days of my life without even consulting me.

I texted Dev. ‘My brother’s here.’

‘Great! I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.’

‘You will regret having met him once you do. Fair warning.’

When we finally did arrive at the mansion, our car slowed, and all four of our mouths dropped open. Lined up outside had to be about thirty cars. People were milling about, children were running into and out of the house, and I spotted several large white tents set up in their backyard.

Dad parked the old domestic next to Mercedes, Porsches, BMWs, and Audis.

Kyle whistled. “Now I know why you’re marrying the guy.”

I punched him in the arm, and he rubbed it in mock pain. If only I could hurt him for real. Priya appeared outside as we were getting out of our vehicle and gave me a giant hug. After I introduced her to my family, she ran back inside to tell everyone we’d arrived.

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