Damaged Goods
A damaged young man finds his sister, hope, and love.
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Author's Note
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Please note that violent abuse is a key part of this work. It is briefly described at the beginning of the story and discussed several times by its characters. If this is something that offends you or especially if this could cause you distress, please skip it.
Thank you, as always, for reading.
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Murder
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I remember very little of that night. My first memory is coming out of my room and seeing dad holding Marilyn's arm. He was dragging her down the hallway. She was crying and trying to resist him but he wouldn't stop. I didn't know where he was taking her or what he would do to her but I feared it instinctively. I had to do something and I found courage in my rage. I loved her. He could hit me if he wanted, but he wouldn't beat her anymore. Ever.
My next memory is standing between dad and her, shouting, telling him that I'd kill him before I'd let him hurt her. I remember being on the ground after that, and feeling more pain than I ever had before. He was over me, bringing his fist down again and again. His eyes were cold and dead. Like a rage-filled corpse. Then I heard mom's voice and he was gone.
The last memory that I have of that night is Marilyn kneeling next to me, holding my hand, telling me that I'd be ok. I tried to get her attention. Tried to get her to run but she wouldn't. She just sat there, crying and trying to make me feel better, telling me all the while that I would be all right. I was sure that I was dying, but in the moment I was amazed at her courage and kindness. I think I fell in love with her then, in an innocent, childish way.
That was the last time that I saw her for five years.
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Court
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He sat there, looking for all the world like a reformed citizen, ready to be released into the world. His hair slicked back, clean shaven. Even holding a bible and sitting with the chaplain.
Apparently, he was a model prisoner. He did all his work well and on time. He hadn't been involved in any violence in over a year.
It made me fucking sick. It was a farce. There was no force, supernatural or otherwise, that could reform that monster. The mere fact that he was up for parole after only five years was a result of the ridiculous plea bargain that the District Attorney took to avoid a costly and long trial. No one cared much about the death of a poor addict. Even if she was my mom.
"Samuel Barnes, you are invited to speak as both a victim of the parolee and a relative of another victim."
The room was smaller and less like a courtroom than I had expected. There was a table with five chairs for members of the Parole board, seating for the parolee to the side, and few short rows of chairs for people like me. I suppose if I hadn't been in rooms like this, I might be intimidated by the official nature of the proceedings. But I was not a good person, and I had been.
"I currently live quite far away. I took unpaid time off and drove seven hours to be here. It is a small price to pay to be able to speak to you about the man that you are considering releasing into the world.
"My father cannot be reformed. You could no reform him then you could reform a rabid dog. It is his nature to be violent and abuse those weaker than himself. He beat me starting when I was eight. He beat my sister, although less so because I tried to stand up to him. That was what started the fight between my parents.
"I stood up to him, so he beat me. Unlike previous times, he would not stop. He would like you ladies and gentlemen to believe that the drugs amplified his rage. I'm here to tell you that I remember little of that day as I was deeply concussed, but I remember his dead eyes as he hit me over and over. When our mother tried to stop him he got a knife from the kitchen and stabbed her. He didn't rush, but did all of it slowly and deliberately. I recommend that you look at the crime scene photo and ask yourself if you would feel comfortable with him being on the outside with your families.
"The plea he made was done so without consulting either myself or my sister. He murdered my mother. He would have come back to murder me except that he heard sirens and fled. Because of him I am without my mother. Because of him I have not seen my sister in five years. We were close. Now we are lost.
"Lastly, I'd like to add that while I do not have an adult criminal record, my now-sealed juvenile record contains many examples of fights and casual violence. These were my choices and my responsibility. I am forced to conclude, however, if I had a father who was not violent and abusive that I would most likely not have these defects in my character.
"Thank you for your time."
One of the parole board members, and older man in his Sunday best, spoke
"If I may, what is your reaction to the parolee finding Jesus as well as having the support of the prison chaplain, a man of demonstrated virtue and judgement."
I couldn't tell if he was supporting my father or genuinely wanted my opinion. Well, he would get it.
"I am not a religious person. I don't live in the world that God made. I live in the world that my father made, and its broken and awful. If he found Jesus here, good for him. They can share a cell. If he wants forgiveness in the next world then he can have it. After dying in prison in this one."
I sat back down, bile in my mouth. I stared at where my father sat, off to the side of the room. I didn't glare, but I wanted him to see I wasn't afraid of him. I knew, looking at him, that if he ever got out, I would kill him. He could have his martyrdom. Jesus would like that.
"Thank you, Mr. Barnes. We very much appreciate your time and opinion and it will factor in our deliberations. Our final verdict will be made known tomorrow by noon."
Well, that was it. The fucker would either get out or he would rot. I stood up and left, pulling my tie off. One more thing to do while I was in town. This part of the trip had made me sad and angry. I was glad to have it over with.
The next part I looked forward to, but I was terrified of it. Was it actually her? Would she even want to see me? Was I someone who she should see? I didn't know, but I had to find out. I had to know. Billy understood. He told me it was a good idea to look for my sister, but not to get my hopes up.
Too late, I thought. My hopes were slightly above ground, which made them far too high for my liking. Well, no sense in procrastinating. If I left now I'd probably arrive around the time she got back from school. I went to my fate.
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Reunited
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It was a really lovely brick house in an older part of town. Nice. Not rich, but nice. The streets were wide and well-lit. Just down the road were shops and restaurants. So far, all boded well.
Still, some of the worst kinds of things happened in houses like this.
I stepped up to the door and knocked. I had put my tie back on, hoping that it would make me look less like a disreputable thug.
The inner door opened and a girl appeared. She was short, maybe fifteen, with dark hair. Too young and the wrong looks for my sister. She kept the outer security door closed and locked. Very smart.
"Hello?" she said. There was neither fear nor interest in her tone. I put on my most friendly smile.
"Hi, my name is Samuel Barnes. I'm sorry for dropping by but I couldn't find a phone number for the house. Could I speak to one of your parents?"
She nodded and walked off.
"Moooooom. There's a dude here to talk to you."
Well, at least I was a dude. That was better than weirdo or creep.
A woman, definitely the girl's biological mother, appeared. She was a little taller, a little less slender, but had the same dark hair and eyes. She smiled warmly, but still kept the outer security door closed.
"Hi. I'm Samuel Barnes. I'm sorry to just drop by, but I was in town already and...well. I'm Marilyn's brother."
No sense in delaying it. Either that would make sense or it wouldn't. The private investigator I had hired with nearly six months of my salary had definitely broken some laws to find this address, but I wasn't complaining. If this was where she lived he was worth far more.
At first, the woman looked confused. Then I could see a dawning realization appear on her face. A little apprehension but mostly just honest shock. Then she smiled much more widely. I felt some of the tension release from within me.
"Oh my god. You must be him. You look so much like her. And your eyes! Exactly the same," she unlocked the door, "Come in, come in! I can't believe you found her before she found you. She was trying all kinds of things. I'm Beth. The laconic girl you met is, well, Marilyn's younger sister, Jane."
So she was looking for me? That was a good sign. She had just turned eighteen, which was partially why I decided to look for her. As an adult, I figured, she'd be equipped to meet me and to decide if she wanted me in her life or not. I'd respect her decision either way. But I had to see her. To know that she wasn't like me.
I stepped inside. The house smelled clean and vaguely of food. So far, so good.
"Thank you," I said sincerely, "Is Marilyn here?"
"No," Beth said, leading me to the living room, "but she should be home soon. She has drama club after school today, but then she generally comes straight home. Would you mind waiting for her? Oh, and please say you'll stay for dinner. You have to. All of us have been wanting to meet you for, well, years."
Huh. That was unexpected. I had my ID all ready to show them and had even brought some other stuff like my birth certificate and some mail to show my address. I was expecting some questions about my identity, but Marilyn's adopted mom recognized me without them.
"Yes, I'd love to sit with you. But I'll only stay for dinner if Marilyn is comfortable with it. Its been years and...well I don't know if she's going to be ready or happy to see me."
Beth looked confused, but her smile barely wavered.
"Oh. Well, yes that is thoughtful. But I'm sure she'll want you to stay."
After that I was gently interrogated. Jane showed up and watched me like I was a new and exciting curiosity. Occasionally smiling or even laughing at something I said. I wasn't sure why but she seemed like someone who my sister would bond with. Marilyn loved taking care of smaller kids. She was a natural at it even five years ago.
I told Beth, well, not precisely lies. I implied rather than stated that some of my foster homes had been a little rough. She seemed offended by the very idea.
"Oh honey. You should know that we...we tried to find you when we first started the adoption papers for Marilyn. She insisted and, well, we agreed that you should be together. But we were told that you were going to be separated. That the decision had been made and nothing could be done to change it. I'm so sorry."
Here she was. The woman who had taken my sister into her home, and treated her like her own blood. And she was apologizing to me for not being able to find me. Incredible. I began to relax a little. I still wouldn't be sure until I talked to Marilyn, but these people seemed...good.
By the time I got Beth caught up on my life, including the incredibly exciting world of working in a machine shop, a girl I suspected was a little older than I was showed up. She was introduced as Karla, and she went to the local city college, which was actually pretty good. So Marilyn had both an older and a younger sister here. Marilyn may not have much privacy here but I hoped that she at least got along with her siblings. Her adopted father...hell lets just call him her real father, Harlan, wouldn't be home until much later tonight. Probably after or during dinner. By the time I had spoken with Karla I was actually looking forward to meeting him. His family was kind and warm and I had no reason to suspect that he would be different.
My train of thought derailed when I heard a loud thump and a sharp intake of breath. I turned and looked towards the door. Yes. She looked different. Much different. But the way she held herself, her fine, girl-next-door features, her eyes. I would have recognized her anywhere. She had apparently dropped her bag in shock, so I guessed that she recognized me as well.
She was taller than her older sister, but not much. I was shocked for a moment as the last time I had seen her she had been a skinny little thing. She was still slender, but now her whole body had an athletic tone. Her curves were not hidden by her tight jeans or the simple shapeless top that hung off of her shoulders, which were smooth and tanned. Her hair was a lighter brown than mine, and she had it shoulder length in a simple pony tail. She never was one to spend a ton of time on her hair. Her eyes were just like mine, deep, dark blue.
She was frozen in place, so I stood up. I didn't approach her though. Her mouth was open and I knew that she was in shock, but it was very hard to tell if she was afraid of me or not. If she was freaked out, I would exit immediately after leaving contact information with her mother. I had decided that was the best course of action before I even came here.
I could see that she was doing what I had done. Slowly taking me in, top to bottom. I got the sensation that she was checking me out the same way she might a boy at her school and that amused me a little and made me feel a little more confident. Women didn't look at me like that, generally speaking. I felt a slight flush. I hoped it would be ignored.
Our eyes met. I felt something. A stirring from deep within me, reaching out and meeting her gaze. I didn't understand it. It worried me a bit, but I was simultaneously filled with such warmth that it was hard to even be a little anxious. Neither of us was willing to avert our gaze. She bit her lip.
Then, finally, the silence was broken. Not by words, but by movement and tears.
Simultaneously she started to both cry and move towards me. Into my arms. By the time we were hugging she was openly sobbing. I was crying too. She looked...so good. So happy. She had been ok. After all this time I finally knew she had ended up with the right family.
There were no words. I think Beth and Karen were both crying as well. Jane might have been too cool to do so openly so she left the room. I didn't feel embarrassed about this. After everything I had seen and done, crying in front of strangers seemed pretty tame.
And here she was. Alive, warm, and hugging me so tight that it was actually a little hard to breathe. I probably was doing the same. After about a minute she let me go and stepped back, but kept holding my hands in hers, as if she were afraid that I'd try to get away.
"I was looking for you. All over! I even found your first foster family...but no one knew where you were now. What happened to you? Why didn't you get in touch?"
Her questions came out in a rush. I think she intended them as simply asking for explanations. But inside, I could feel an accusation. It was nothing I hadn't felt before. By the time I was out of hell and placed with Billy, I was almost an adult. And I realized that maybe I shouldn't find Marilyn until she was too. I still looked but I never found her.
I must have looked guilty because she shook her head.
"No, I didn't mean...I just...are you ok?"
I laughed. I was, at that moment, better than ok.
"Yeah, I am. You?"
She nodded and laughed. I could hear it in that laugh. Years of kindness, love, attention. She had a real family here, and she was doing well. Things weren't perfect, but that was enough for me. And my god was she beautiful.
"I ended up hiring someone because I couldn't find you. He was a little shady, I think, but I'm not complaining. I honestly had no idea where you were until a week ago. All I had was an address and I wasn't sure you were, well, you. I had to drive back to the city anyway so I just waited. And here I am."
Beth interjected.
"He's agreed to stay for dinner. Why don't you guys go up to your room and get caught up? I'll call you when the foods ready and then the rest of the family can interrogate him too."
No one had looked at this tall stranger in their house and been anything but welcoming. I'd never been to a house like this before. I wasn't even sure that they existed.
Marilyn motioned for me to follow her up the stairs and I did. I guess I'd find out exactly how far she wanted me to be in her life soon enough.
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Caught Up
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It turned out there were three floors, two of them large and one of them smaller. Her and her sisters got the whole second floor and her parents had the third to themselves. I guess they did well for themselves. It was a lovely house. The decor was simple, and things looked worn and used. Lived in, but neat, not messy.
To my shock this also applied to Marilyn's room.
"Here it is," she said, closing the door behind us and doing a little twirl, "pretty nice, huh?"
It was. She had clearly decorated it, the deep greens were her favorite and there were posters of natural scenes of mountains and forests. There was even one painting of pine trees by a waterfall. It was pretty good. It wasn't spotless, but it was clean and organized.
"This can't be your room. There aren't any clothes on the floor."
She laughed and hit me.
"Mom, uh, I mean, Beth...she's really strict about cleaning up after yourself."
I smiled at the correction she had made for my benefit.
"It's really nice and I can tell you arranged it and decorated it. And you can call her mom in front of me. I understand and I'm...really happy that you found your way here."
My voice hitched a little on the last part. My greatest fear for the last five years was that she'd been in the same sort of places that I was. I was almost overwhelmed with relief, but I didn't want to show it. And if her parents treated her so well that she called them mom and dad, then that made me happy too.
She smiled really broadly and sat down on the bed. I sat with her. She just looked into my eyes again, so intensely. I think it should have been uncomfortable, but it felt so natural, so right. Eventually she blushed and looked away.
"I'm sorry, I just can't get enough of...you know, seeing you. I never thought I would. I hoped but..."
"Your mom told me that you looked for me in a lot of different ways. I did too. I guess I got lucky first."
"Yeah. Karla and Jane, you met them?"
I nodded and she continued.
"They helped me. They've helped me for years, on and off. Going to libraries and courthouses, doing searches on the internet, requesting documents. I was kind of a pain in the ass when I got here, but they've always been great. I love them."
"They were both really nice to me. Well, Jane was quiet, but polite. And Karla even laughed at my jokes," I leaned in conspiratorially, "she's pretty cute by the way. Do you think you can hook me up?"
"Eww, no!" Marilyn said, laughing, "No dating my sisters! Now I know its you, cuz you're a perv."
Her face turned a little serious.
"Is there anyone? I mean wherever you're living? Like a girlfriend or something."
"I'm married. Got a kid and another on the way," I said with forced casualness.
Her mouth dropped, but then she caught on and hit me.
"Oh my god you're such an asshole. Definitely my brother."
I laughed.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. No. I don't have a girlfriend. I guess I've dated a little, but never had the spark. You?"
"No. I mean, yeah I've had some boyfriends, but it never really got serious. I dumped one of them because he was a prick, but there wasn't anything wrong with the other two. We just never went anywhere."
This was a bit of a surprise to me. She was pretty, well, gorgeous if I was honest. And it looked like she was still outgoing and smart. In a place like this I would have expected her bloom to draw men to her like flies to honey.
"I do have a lot of friends, though," she added quickly, "you don't need to worry, I'm fine. Great. Better now."
She knew that my first concern would be that she had a good life here. We still understood each other so well.
"What happened to you? Did you get placed with a family like mine?" Jane asked with genuine interest. I resisted laughing, and went with my standard and well practiced line.
"I bounced around for a few years from foster family to family. I was kind of a troublemaker so they eventually put me with Billy. He's...well he's hard to describe in a few words. Let's just say he's weird, but kind. I love him like a father although he'd never want me to call him dad. What about you? Tell me about how you were such a pain in the ass?"
She had listened so intensely to what I had said and I knew that she had questions. I found that I wasn't ready to answer all of them yet, so I deflected. And I really did want to hear her story.
"Oh god," she said, smiling sheepishly, "I was such a little shit. Are you sure you want to hear this? It could take a little while..."
I nodded enthusiastically. I did. I doubted that she had been all that bad but I felt like there was a story here and I wanted to both hear it and hear her tell it. It was so unbelievably good to hear her voice, her laugh. As she started talking I suddenly found her hand touching mine, stroking it, eventually holding it. I figured it was just to make sure I was really there, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't like it. Something inside me stirred that hadn't in a long time. I ignored it.
"So," she started, "They put me in this home for girls. Like bad girls, but not super bad. Medium-bad, I guess? There were thieves and I think a few had used drugs and most likely a couple of them had been pimped out. I fit right in though. I mean I'd stolen with mom before. And tried a few things with my friends."
She didn't need to add that no-one had pimped her out. I did my best to keep that from happening. We had both done our share of petty crime. I didn't know about the drugs, but I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Shit was on every corner.
"Anyway, I get pulled straight out of bed and taken to this little room, with a sofa and a few chairs. And there they were, Beth and Harlan. They looked so nervous that I thought I was in trouble. I think that they had been warned about everything I'd been through so they were extra cautious. By then it had happened months ago. I wasn't over it but I wasn't crying about it every night either. I was surprised when they asked if I wanted to come home with them.
"They asked me questions and let me ask them questions. They seemed nice but I didn't really trust them. But they looked rich, so I decided to be a pain and see what they'd do. I told them I'd love to go with them but I wanted my brother with me. They weren't even told about you, so this surprised them. But they just looked at each other. For like a second, and then they said of course they'd try, but they couldn't promise anything.
"That's when I decided to try living with them. They were telling the truth, I could tell. And they did try to find you...but you were gone, and no one would try to bring you back to me. No one at any agency cared enough about you to even bend one rule. Beth was so apologetic, it actually made me feel bad.
"Janie loved to follow me around, and I didn't mind. She reminded me of the littles we used to look out for sometimes, and she's really smart and curious, so I became her babysitter sometimes. Karla seemed mean until I understood that she was trying to look out for me. One time Beth was getting on me about leaving my clothes in the hallway. I didn't think it was a big deal, I'd get them eventually and wash them myself. Beth was struggling with teaching me some pretty basic stuff. She got frustrated and it slipped out a little. She didn't even call me a name or anything and Karla was there telling her to leave me alone and that it wasn't a big deal. She was mad, too. It shocked both Beth and me.
"Things were ok, but I wasn't used to these rules. I know they're pretty normal, but I just didn't understand why I had to be back by 9 pm just because I was thirteen. I even told them I knew to look out for pimps and bangers but that just seemed to make them worry even more. I'd catch Beth and Harlan talking about me in whispers and they'd stop really quickly when I'd come into the room.
"So I trusted my sisters, but I was sure that Beth and Harlan were planning on returning me like a broken TV. I feel so stupid now. They were probably just worried about me. I didn't want to go back to the home so I decided I'd run. I left a note thanking everyone for being nice to me, especially my sisters. Then I waited until midnight and snuck out. It was really easy.
"What I didn't know was that dad checked up on us. All of us, every night. Like he just looked in and made sure we were ok. I would never have expected that. So he knew in like a half-hour that I was gone. And they were driving the streets looking for me. Him and Beth in separate cars. Karla stayed up in case I came back.
"Beth found me like a mile away. I thought I was heading back to the old neighborhood but it turns out I was going out of town. I was tired and it had started raining and I was pretty miserable. Beth pulled up and smiled at me, really gently. I got in the car and she drove me home.
"No one was even mad. I couldn't understand that. Everyone was just happy to see me and hugged me. They told me never to do it again and that they were trying to adopt me permanently and they loved me. They were worried that if I was caught out that late that I would be taken away from them, which is why they didn't call the cops. Now I felt really bad so I told them why I left, the real reason, not the lies I put in my letter.
"Things changed after that. I behaved myself. I started cleaning up after myself, and offered to babysit Janie whenever. We really got along by then. I told her stories from before they took me in, and about you. She was always curious about you, I think because she only had sisters. Karla helped me with homework and drove me places. I learned later that she had been a bit of a wild girl for a while, and when I showed up she changed to be a 'better example' for me.
"Beth became someone that I really trusted. After that night I really took to her, following her around and wanting her to teach me everything she knew about...well, everything. Harlan, dad, took the longest for me. I kept waiting for him to slip up and reveal he was like our dad. That never happened. You haven't met him yet, but he reminds me a little of you. He's patient, kind, and protective. After about a year I caught myself laughing at his dumb jokes and calling him daddy. He was so happy to hear that from me that I felt bad for ever being so cautious."
She'd stopped, and it took me a minute to realize that she'd said as much as she was going to. I didn't miss her compliment. I'd never thought of myself as patient or kind. Protective I guess. I knew I was blushing and I was suddenly very aware that I was holding her hand.
Her mom knocked and we jerked our hands back as if we were children who'd been caught doing something very naughty. Maybe we were.
"Dinner's ready," she said, peeking around the door with a smile.
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The Kiss
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Dinner was quiet at first, but then Harlan got home. I guess Beth had texted her husband about me in advance and he came over and I stood up and he shook my hand and then hugged me before.I could react. I laughed despite myself. After that it seemed like I was accepted. I was asked polite questions about myself and I answered as best as I could. I lied a little, but just to take the edge off my answers.
Jane (or Janie as she was known inside the family) laughed at my dumb jokes and asked questions about what Marilyn was like before she came here. I told the most embarrassing stories I knew. Entertaining things about a girl and her brother misbehaving, even breaking the law. Nothing that would shock middle-class sensibilities.
Karla asked me questions about myself and gave me and Marilyn significant looks. Again I answered mostly truthfully. It was ok to say that I "bounced around" foster homes and that some of them were "a little rough". The truth wouldn't do, at least not here. I couldn't tell if Karla was hitting on me or not. I guessed not, but then again, she did keep giving me little smiles. But she'd always look at Marilyn after that. I honestly couldn't figure her out, but she wasn't doing any harm.
Dinner ended too soon. It was Thursday so everyone had work or school. Everyone but me.
"Oh, please consider staying here. We have a guest room, it won't be any trouble..." Beth said.
I believed that she was being sincere, but that was too much of an imposition, even for me. And I needed time to think, to process today. Billy had taught me about that, about the power of contemplation. I think Marilyn probably needed the same thing, even if she did look sad that I was leaving.
"Well, I have the room at the hotel for tonight at least. After that, well," I trailed off, then looked at Marilyn, "Call me tomorrow, ok? After school? Don't rush or anything."
"Of course I'm going to call you. And you're going to stay for longer than you did tonight. Its only been like," she looked at the clock and stopped, "All right its been six hours, but still. You're not getting away from me this easily."
She was joking, but in her eyes I saw that she wasn't. I didn't blame her. If our positions were reversed I'd worry too.
"Walk me to my car, it's just around the corner."
"Ok," she said, excitedly, and grabbed her coat.
While I was there some weather had set in. Rain, and lots of it. It was cool, almost cold now, and I wished I had brought my jacket, but it had been an unseasonably warm fall day when I left for the courthouse this morning. That was another thing. The verdict was coming back tomorrow. I wanted to be alone when I heard that, good or bad news.
I waited outside for her, briefly, considering the way the day had gone. I wasn't used to his kind of positivity. It was dangerous. I could get used to it.
Marilyn stepped out on to the porch beside me. She still had that same, huge smile that she'd wore all night. She took my arm and put it around my shoulder; I guess she was still cold. We walked down the suburban, middle-class street like we belonged here. I guess she did. I didn't. But the companionable silence, the warm pressure of her leaning into me, it was all golden. I could never forget it even if I wanted to.
"Were you scared?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"Of what?"
"Of coming here. Finding me."
"Yeah. I was scared. I was scared it wouldn't be you. I was scared that it would be you but you wouldn't want to see me. Or that you'd forgotten me."
She stopped and half a step later I did too, turning to face her.
"I'd never do that. I love you. You have to believe that. Five years is nothing compared to that."
She was so serious, so determined that I believe her. I did.
"Fear isn't always rational. I mean, I love you at least as much as I did back then. Maybe more because I was missed you so goddamn much. Because I worried that you ended up...."
'Like me' was what I was about to say. I cut myself off. Now wasn't the time.
"Ended up what? In a bad home."
"Yes, I worried about that a lot. And I wasn't there to protect you, you know, like in the old days."
I hitched up a little when I said it. Her gaze softened, and she came forward and hugged me, holding me tightly. I held her too. As she pulled back I let my hands drop to either side of her waist. I was guiltily aware that this wasn't how a brother is supposed to hold his sister.
We looked deeply into each others eyes for the third time that day. This was different. I felt open, vulnerable to her. I felt that she could see all the things I was hiding. All the things I was feeling for her, right then. I thought that I could see those same things reflected back at me. My hands held her there, like that, for far too long. Although she didn't seem to mind, I suddenly realized that she couldn't move and loosened my grip.
I was about to step back and apologize when she went up on tip toes, kissing me on the lips, softly and slowly. This wasn't chaste or innocent. It was just contact, no more, but I felt memories rushing back to me, feelings, fears, regrets, and deeply buried desires. I was aware of the way her breasts felt pressed against me, so soft and firm. And the heat of her body. She finally drew back, achingly slowly. I wanted to follow her lips. I wanted to have my hands on her again. Instead, I held myself back. Barely.
"Oh, wow," she said, softly.
"Yeah."
"I'll see you tomorrow, ok? I love you."
She said it fast and nervous, then turned and walked quickly away, leaving me standing there. I'm glad she did. From the outside I'm sure I just looked like I was standing, staring into the distance. Inside I was wrecked, shaking and near collapse. Just from one, relatively innocent kiss. Jesus.
What was wrong with me?
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Billy
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The police officer had dragged me out of the back of the car, probably a little more gently than he might of normally. Billy was out on the old wooden porch. I was afraid that he was going to beat me. He had been patient with me so far, but I hadn't really gotten into trouble since I'd been here, except for some basic teenage backtalk. He was a big guy, tall and beefy, with a huge red beard. It was still twilight, so I could see the white of his teeth. Was he smiling?
"Here you go, Billy," the deputy said, "He got himself into a bit of a scuffle. Decided to start a fight with three young men down at the arcade."
He was right. Later I'd be friends with them. It was a dumb fight that I started for dumb reasons.
Billy laughed out loud as he stepped down and took my shoulder, as if physically taking custody from the officer. He waited and waved until the deputy drove away.
"Three of em, huh?" he laughed again, "How'd you do?"
"Um," I said, surprised by this reaction. "I got one on the ground but the other two got on either side of me..."
I didn't finish explaining because I didn't need to. My black eye, bloody nose, and rapidly forming bruises told the story for me.
"Well," he said calmly, "I'm guessing you're the sort that likes fightin' but doesn't much care if he wins or loses. That's not acceptable here. If you're gonna fight, I'm going to make sure you know how. Go get yourself cleaned up and go to bed. School starts tomorrow."
That got my attention. I did what he said. The next day he started teaching me his personal style of fighting. Which seemed ridiculous at the time, to me. Later I would learn that some of it was Krav Maga, some boxing, some esoteric karate from god-knows-where. It was, looking back, pretty practical. Enough to survive and win. Nothing flashy, nothing you could use in a ring or even an octagon. Brutal, effective, designed to take on multiple opponents and survive, if somewhat worse for wear.
Also he gave me a knife, which seemed irresponsible even to me, a violent juvenile delinquent. It wasn't l like a Bowie knife either, or a survival knife. It was straight, double-edged, with a wickedly sharp point. He called it a "Fairbarn". Later I'd learn that the skills he taught me dated back to world war two. I've never been able to get Billy to tell me where he learned it.
The secret though, the real secret, was that learning all this shit required exercise, repetition, and eventually, discipline. A lot of discipline. After I'd been there for about eight months, some drunk senior tried to start shit with me at an impromptu party down by the river. The insults were laughable, calling me an orphan or a criminal. No shit, I thought to myself, and brushed it off. In the past though, I would have fought him and probably lost. Now, I knew I could take him. Hell I knew just from looking at him that I could take his knee out and then do whatever the fuck I wanted to him. But I didn't want to. The idea seemed stupid. No gain for high risk.
That's how Billy worked. He wouldn't confront you. The kids who came to him were used to confrontation. He'd teach you what you'd want to know, sure. Fight, hunt, shoot, fix cars, whatever. Along the way he'd also teach you how to be calm, how to think, to contemplate. To plan, and budget. To look forward. To hope.
I still don't know if that last part was a good idea, but I love him all the same. He'd made me a better man despite my efforts to the contrary.
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The Day Of
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I woke up the next day feeling confused and scared. Where was I? What was this place? I stood up and looked for the exit. I stopped. I did what I was taught. Closed my eyes. Breathed deep. Counted to ten, then back to one. Still worked up, but in control, I realized that I was in my room.
It wasn't awful. It was, all things considered, pretty nice. Billy had paid for it, and he insisted that I stay away from a motel this time and get a decent room where I could feel important. Even if only for a week. I appreciated the thought but I felt just as insignificant as normal. The chain I was staying at called it a "suite" but I'm pretty sure that it was exactly like all the other rooms. That being said, it was nicer than I'd ever stayed at. There was a bedroom with a king size, a living room with a couch and its own tv, even a kitchenette with a fridge and a stove. The bathroom was really decadent in my view. Who needs a bathtub that could fit two people?
I hadn't thought that question through. I imagined it with myself and...someone else, in it. It was a powerful thought and I had to work to slow my heart down again. I was a wreck. I hadn't even drunk last night.
I'd come back, watched some true crime shows, tried not to think of her, thought of her anyway, jerked off, and went to sleep feeling sick with guilt. What kind of a brother was I, really? Could I really say that I was her protector, if I wanted to...to fuck her? I even had a hard time thinking the word.
My phone chirped. It was old, but still smart. Billy bought it used and showed me how to repair it. I had no complaints with it. Not a voice mail, but a text.
"The parole board has reached a verdict in the case of your relative..." blah blah blah. Jesus it was a three paragraph text telling me to click a link to find out the result. What was wrong with these fuckers? Do they like building suspense?
I clicked the link.
"We regret to inform you..." oh fuck.
I stoped, counted to ten and then back again. I was here. I could protect her. I would kill him if I had to. I knew how and I might even get away with it.
"...that your relative has been denied parole. He has been deemed to have been unreformed and will be up for parole again in five years from this day, ..."
Goddamn form letters. They sent me a link to a generic website meant for all relatives. No need to worry that the parolee murdered my fucking mother. I laughed and cried with relief. He'd be in there for another five years. At least. Maybe more. I was still recovering when my phone blew up.
Well, I say 'blew up', but I guess I mean that I got about five texts in rapid succession. I wasn't sure that they were related but I was worried for a moment.
Two numbers. One I recognized. It was Marilyn's. The other I didn't. I read that one first, figuring it was the most likely to be bad news:Hey, this is Jane. You know, Marilyn's sister.
You aren't planning on leaving soon are you? Marilyn probably won't tell you but she had nightmares last night and she said your name. I feel bad because she wouldn't want me telling you, but she protects people from things, even if it would make her feel better to talk about them. Maybe she will with you? It was really nice meeting you...
Huh. Marilyn hadn't mentioned anything like that, but we'd only had a few hours to talk, and even fewer with any privacy. I hope I didn't give her the feeling that I wanted to take off. I didn't. I wanted to be with her more than anything. That was at least part of the problem. I moved on to Marilyn's texts: Hey. It's our first break today and we're allowed to text, we have a few minutes so I thought I'd see how you were doing.
I hope I didn't wake you. I just,
I didn't want last night to be weird. I don't want anything weird between us. Everything was right for me. I really, really hope it was for you too.
Ah, they probably had the same break in classes. That explained it. Well, at least nothing was wrong. I was least sure of how to respond to Marilyn, so I started with Jane: thx for caring, am so glad she has family that cares. Pls don't worry. Not going anywhere. Will talk to her tonight.
Ok, now to respond to Marilyn. I deleted three attempts before I settled on this: Not weird. Could never be weird with you. Looking forward to seeing you later. Ps-Not going anywhere so don't worry about offending. Like old days, you can tell me anything.
That seemed reassuring and safe without going too far. Jane sent a smiley so I guess we were done. Marilyn sent: gr8 <3 u. C u l8r
God I could barely read that. Was I getting old? Billy would have called me over an asked me to interpret that for him and then swore about "the youths".
I had one more thing I wanted to do before I forgot. I called Beth's number and got her voicemail. I asked her if it would be ok if I took Marilyn out tonight so we could talk in private. I let her know I wouldn't keep her out too late, but I had family stuff to talk about and I thought it would be less strange elsewhere. And we still had years of catching up to do.
I got up and went out. I drove back to the old neighborhood. I didn't want to, but it pulled me like the tide. It hadn't changed. Well, the corners were probably owned by different people now but you still had to worry. On a lark I went into an old cafe where mom used to take us. I ate a fantastic burger and asked the waitress questions as she came back with coffee. I didn't recognize her but she answered. Probably thought I was a cop. They were all pretty innocent questions, really. Was D still here? No, he was shot last year and died on his corner. Did Jerry get out of prison? Yeah, but he went back on a violation after he was caught carrying. Everyone I really knew, whether I loved or hated them, was gone. I guessed that out of twenty names, only one other person really got out, and she was probably working as a high class escort uptown. Well, good for her. It should be legal, and regulated. To me it had always been real work. And dangerous.
Mom sometimes did it. She never told us, but I knew. It made me sick. I didn't like thinking about her out there fucking strangers, but mostly I was afraid she'd get hurt. And cops didn't give a shit about dead whores. But we had rent. And she didn't have to do it all the time, only when dad couldn't move enough product. It was never drugs or guns or stolen shit. It was always "product". I hated the fucking word now. It felt like a coward's word to me.
I wondered if Marilyn knew about mom and what she'd done. I know that she was only a year or two away from being put on the street. Dad's friends would have seen to that. That thought did make me sick. Sick and full of rage. Before everything went to hell, I was already planning on taking her and running. Mom would have had to fend for herself.
As I paid for my food and left a huge tip for the waitress, I wondered if there was any part of the past that wasn't covered in barbed wire, ready to cut you if you weren't paying attention.
I drove back to the hotel, went to my room and stripped down. I did my exercises. Billy called them "body weight" because thats all you needed. You could do them anywhere. And they wore you out fast. I was lean and lanky, tough and made of muscle. Not bulging, but compact. I didn't look like much but I could do handstand pushups, and that was no joke.
When I was done I was exhausted and felt better. At peace again. I read and napped until my alarm told me that she'd be home soon. I showered, shaved. Got myself correct, as we used to say. I was drinking burned coffee at the Starbucks in the lobby when I got the text from Marilyn: Mom says you want to take me out? Sounds really good. Can you pick me up in an hour? Thx!
Well, I guess it was a date.
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Date Knight
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I came inside when I got there. It felt wrong to pick her up outside, like a date. Especially after last night. And I got to say hi to Beth, who hugged me and Jane who was all smiles now. I guess I was acceptable. Marilyn was still getting ready so I endured Jane's questions.
"Did you ever see any drug deals?"
"Every day. They aren't special. One guy takes the money and then waves you forward. Then another guy gives you the stuff. Ask me later and I'll tell you how to get set up on the corner."
"Did you ever have to run from the cops?"
"Yeah, because me and my buddies shoplifted. It was dumb, even for us. If I had been caught I'd have been taken away and maybe never seen Marilyn again."
"Did you ever see anyone get killed?"
"Jane!" Beth said, "That's not something to ask a guest!"
I guess no one had told Jane about how Marilyn got here. Not the specifics anyway. I tried to be casual about it. I wasn't mad at her, but I did feel the knots inside me tighten a little bit. Some people were big on the truth but I saw value in kids like Jane not having to know some shit until they were adults.
"I could tell you, but then I'd have to take you out too," I said, with what I hoped looked like a goofy grin on my face, pointing finger-guns and winking at her. She laughed and Beth looked relieved.
"Ok," Beth said, picking up her keys, "lets go, Jane. It's movie night for us girls. Have a good time!"
With that, Beth and Jane left, apparently fine with me being in their kitchen. I don't know if I could ever get used to being accepted like this. I watched them pull out of the driveway, lost in my thoughts of what-if. So I didn't notice Karla.
"Where are you going to take her?"
I jumped and she laughed.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. I just came down to make some coffee. Lot of studying to do so I couldn't go with them."
I took a deep breath. I was too tightly wound.
"Uh, not sure. Think its going to be her choice tonight. I kind of want to do something nice for her. I feel bad, not being around."
I thought of all the birthdays I'd missed. All the things I hadn't told her. For example, I never thanked her for holding my hand instead of running.
"You know, she doesn't date," Karla said, interrupting my reverie.
"What?"
"She never dates. She went out with like three boys for a total of three dates, but she wasn't interested in any of them. You know why, right?"
"Um," I said, trying to think of a way to deflect. I wasn't comfortable with the way this conversation was going.
"It's because she's in love with you. I could tell when she first showed up. The way she talked about you. It didn't sound like a teenaged girl who looked up to her older brother. Or a crush. She was always so afraid that she wouldn't find you. Or she would and you wouldn't want anything to do with her. And the way she thinks of you hasn't changed. I'm her older sister. I know."
"Are you sure?" I asked, despite myself. I mean, we'd kissed, but there were all kinds of explanations for that. The physical reaction between two people didn't make something love.
"Yeah. I'm sure. She's always been reserved. I've never seen her this happy or smiling this much. Look, I'm...I'm not judging, ok? I know this is weird and if someone just told me about it I'd probably think it was wrong. But I've seen how she looks at you and how you look at her. And it doesn't feel like it's wrong. It seems right for her. She's been my sister for five years and I want her to be happy. If an unusual relationship makes her happy, then I'm perfectly willing to overlook all kinds of things."
"Wow," I said, choked up for a second, "thank you. I don't really know how things are going to end up, but I appreciate your understanding. I wouldn't have expected it."
"You should expect it. I love her. Now, if you break her heart, I'll fucking kill you," she said, smiling, "but I think you knew that already."
"I'd never do any..." but I was interrupted by events. Marilyn came down the steps.
God-fucking damn. She really had grown up.
She was just wearing a simple black dress, and it was pretty modest. It went to her knees, but it was slightly constrictive. Just enough to show off curves when she moved. And she was so graceful, it was like she flowed across the room rather than walked. It covered the front of her torso and hung from around her neck so it showed no cleavage. It was a little tight across the chest, so you could make out the shape of her breasts but details remained tantalizingly hidden. About the only risqué thing about it was that it showed off her shoulders and upper back.
To me though, she looked like a vision. She was, like always, the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.
I kept my shit together, just barely, so I didn't look like the pervert I knew myself to be. Were I officially her date, I would have stared openly. I laughed.
"Ok you come down here looking like a movie star and I'm in some dockers and a dress shirt. Are you trying to make me feel bad?"
She laughed too.
"You look good. And you're wearing a tie. Two days in a row!"
She did look impressed with how I looked, but I guess she was right. Neither of us had clothes like this back in the day, so it was nice to dress up.
"When am I bringing you back by?" I asked, ever conscious of hidden lines. I didn't want to do anything, ever, that made anyone look at Marilyn badly. Karla answered for Marilyn.
"She's eighteen. She might be in high school but she's graduating this year. And its Friday. Whenever is fine."
Marilyn looked positively shocked at that turn of events. But then, I was her older, street-smart brother. If she wasn't safe with me who would she be safe with?
The real question, I thought to myself, is whether she's safe from me.
"Um," Marilyn said, at a loss, "I'll text you or mom if we're going to be out late."
Then she hugged Karla and we left. For all of them it was pretty standard, but for me it was yet another reassurance that Marilyn was going to be ok.
I opened the car door for her, because it felt like the right thing to do. She smiled at me. As we pulled out I noted that her older sister was watching from the window.
"Does Karla always watch you when you leave with strange men?"
"She worries for me I think. She really tries to be a good big sister for me and Jane. And you aren't strange."
"I'll take your word for it. So, I have a confession."
Her eyes got a little wider.
"Uh. Ok."
"I have no idea where to take you. This is the first time I've been in the city in like two years and I only know the old neighborhood. I checked Yelp but I really don't know where you like to eat."
"Oh my god I thought...never mind. There's a good seafood place down the road. Not like a chain."
"Sounds good. What did you think I was going to say?"
She blushed.
"I thought you were going to tell me you stole this car or something."
I laughed out loud. More shocked than offended.
"I've never even tried to steal a car. The biggest thing I stole was a box of ho-hos. I should totally kick you out of my legal, economical, and completely paid-for car."
"You wouldn't!" she said with mock offense, "I'm your only sister! And I'm cute."
"The court acknowledges that the defendant is cute. Charges of scandalous accusations against the driver are dropped."
She laughed.
"God I missed your stupid jokes. Turn right here, its just back here, by the river."
"You missed that? Jesus the suburbs must be pretty boring."
"You have no idea. But I wish you did. I really have missed you. I worried about you too."
I pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant that just had a neon anchor for a sign. Must be the place. I didn't like the idea of her worrying about me, mostly, but a part of me found it reassuring. I didn't think too hard about that.
"I hope you didn't worry too much," I said, opening the door for her and offering her my hand to get out, "I like the idea of you in that house, having fun with your sisters, studying, hanging out with friends."
She stopped and looked away for a bit.
"I feel bad about it, but I did get distracted a lot. I looked for you, but...not all the time. And as time went on, I looked less and less. I hadn't given up, but I wasn't really being a good sister. I should have done more."
I put my hand at the small of her back and gently pushed towards the door, walking alongside her. It was getting colder as the last light of the day began to leave. I'd have to give her my coat when we left.
"You didn't do anything wrong. You were, well actually are, a kid. You just hit eighteen. You haven't even graduated high school yet. Looking for me at all is flattering. It's not like I constantly looked for you either. Life...happened. I'm just happy that one of us found the other. Anything else is just details."
I held the door open for her and we went inside. It had a cheesy nautical theme, dark wooden walls, fake fish on the walls. Somehow it was so earnest that it worked. It seemed to be a nice, classy place. A good choice. I looked at Marilyn to complement her taste but she was looking at me with no expression, eyes wide, face flushed. It was such a sudden change that I was worried.
"Hey, are you feeling all right? I can take you home, if..."
She suddenly came back to herself, blinking.
"No!" she exclaimed, a little too loud, "I mean, no. I'm fine. I just zoned out for a minute."
It felt like she was holding something back but she smiled and it was definitely sincere. I smiled back.
"Table for two, please," I told the host.
We got seated right at the window, overseeing the slow moving river. The night was cloudy but there was no fog, so you could see the lights of the office buildings downtown being reflected in the waves. It made for a beautiful display, and although I wasn't really much of a romantic, even I could appreciate the atmosphere. I pulled my chair out for Marilyn and then sat down across from her. She looked at me with a small smile.
"What?"
"Where did you learn this?"
"Learn what?" I was genuinely confused.
"To be such a goddamn gentleman?"
She swore in that adorable way that she had, and was smiling when she said it.
"I guess I should make up an interesting story, but the truth is Billy. I was flirting with a girl and he saw me. So he told me what to do. I asked him if it was really, you know, appreciated any more. You know, I didn't want to do something that would make a girl feel like I was patronizing her or something. He said that I should do it because its polite, if I asked them out. Man or woman. If my date objects then I should stop. His advice hasn't really let me down, honestly."
"Ha! I need to meet him. I feel that we could trade embarrassing stories about you...for hours."
"Oh god. Yeah, he would have so many. He took care of me at my least civilized time. I was, well, I was pretty angry. He taught me to be calm. To be thoughtful. I think I'd be dead without him."
I realized by her reaction to my words that I had said too much. Goddammit why could I never keep my mouth shut properly. And always with people that I cared for.
"What do you mean by that? Why would you have died?"
I sighed. For someone else I might lie. But to her? I might leave things out, but I couldn't lie.
"I mean that I wasn't in control. Not really. The home I was in before Billy wasn't all that great. I don't want to talk about it, but I was fighting a lot, doing dumb things. I'd call Billy a role model but I don't think that's good enough. He loved me, and kids like me, in the way we needed. He helped us work out our issues. Or at least he was there to support us. More than a few of us passed through his home, and some were worse off than me. He helped all of them at least a little."
Not a lot were worse off. Barry, maybe. Amy, for sure. He died back in Baltimore, but she made it out and was in college somewhere, I think.
"Well," she said, her expression becoming somber and pensive, "Now I know I have to meet him. To thank him. Anyone who helped you is my friend. Anyone who helped to bring you back to me is family."
She reached out and grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Her expression was so intense. I smiled and squeezed it back. We were interrupted by the waitress and we jerked our hands apart like kids caught kissing at church. She smirked at us but didn't say anything.
We ordered drinks, talked, ate bread, ordered dinner. I had the crab and she had the surf and turf. It was really nice. I hated to mess up the atmosphere, but I did have to talk about something unpleasant. She noticed the expression on my face.
"What's wrong?" she said, "Did I say something?"
"No, I just never told you the other reason I came to the city. I would have come to see you anyway, but before I saw you I went to speak at dad's parole hearing. He was denied."
"What the fuck? He was up for parole after what he did?"
"Yeah. No one ever told us, but he had a plea deal. He won't be up again for another five years."
"Why didn't you tell me?" she said, annoyed, "I would have said something too."
"Because," I said, sighing, "I didn't want him to know where you were, or even that you knew he still existed. I know you're an adult now, but...I just couldn't take the risk."
I expected her to get more annoyed or even angry, but she just smiled instead.
"You're still protecting me. I don't think you'll ever stop. I love that about you."
It was my turn to blush.
"The idea of anything happening to you...it makes me feel sick. You're more important to me than my life."
Her eyes got big, although I was just stating something that was fact. Five years hadn't changed that. She got a far-off look in her eyes.
"Do you remember that time we had a slumber party?"
"Um," I said, embarassed,"I don't."
"Well, thats what you told me it was. The truth was that dad had a party and invited all of his 'friends'. I didn't realize it until I got older but you knew that mom was going to be pretty drunk and you didn't trust any of them. So we stayed up late in your room and played board games. You told me jokes until I got tired and then I fell asleep on your bed. You slept on the floor, by your door."
"Oh," I said, "Yeah. I remember that."
"I woke up late, and someone was trying to get in your room. You'd locked it but the door was pretty flimsy. You were standing there with your baseball bat, just waiting for whoever was trying to get in, ready to fight. They never managed get to us. You've always protected me. Always. When I get scared I think of that night, and remember how brave you were."
We were quiet for a little while after that. She reached out her hand across the table and I took it. This time we kept holding hands when the waitress came back. We ordered desert and the mood lightened up a bit.
It all felt so natural. I knew I didn't fit in in places like this but I felt like I did that night. Marilyn definitely did. She was the kind of girl that you wanted to take to places like this. And she was still so funny. Even if she had matured quite a bit, she still told the best dirty jokes.
"And then she says: 'Oh no Santa I thought you came only once a year!'"
I laughed, loudly and inappropriately.
"Where does a good middle-class girl like you learn this shit?"
"Who said I was good? And usually study hall."
"Oh my god you are such a good girl. I could tell by the way your mom let me carry you off and the way your little sister looks up to you. You've become...reformed."
She put on a mock horrified look, then a sly smile spread across her face.
"Take me back to your car, and I'll show you what a bad girl I am."
As soon as the words escaped her lips she put her hand over her mouth as if she wanted to put them back.
"Oh my god," she said, "I am so sorry. That was...oh god."
I reached out and held her hand. God I fucking knew what a bad idea this was, but I was just a swimmer and the tide was so strong between us. I couldn't resist it any more. I didn't want to.
"Don't feel bad. You don't need pretend any more. What we used to feel...when we were kids. It was playful. It made sense. It was us against the world. In me, at least, it grew while we were apart. Matured with me. Became something else, out of my control. I wondered what you would be like when I saw you again. No. I fantasized about it. What you would look like. What you would feel like under my hands. What you would taste like. Would you let me taste you? How else would you let me love you?"
Once it started I couldn't stop it. I don't think she wanted me to. Her lips were slightly parted and she was breathing faster. A blush spread on her cheeks. I wondered what it would look like on the rest of her body.
"I compared every girl I flirted with to you. Not intentionally, it just came naturally. Were they as pretty? As smart? As filthy and hilarious? None of them were. It wasn't fair to them. You aren't really fair competition, are you? For example, how is ti that you ended up being even more beautiful than I imagined you would be at eighteen? I don't understand it. I know what I'm supposed to feel for you as s a good big brother. But I'm not so good. So I feel much more. I. Want. You."
Holy fuck. Did I just say that? I hadn't even had anything to drink. Oh god if I had fucked this up...
"Take me to your hotel," she said in a small, desperate voice, "Please."
I paid and stood up (I'm not even sure how, given the erection I had) and led her out of the restaurant. I held the door for her on the way out but my hand brushed her ass on the way out. I saw that she shivered. Probably not from the cold either, but I still put my jacket around her shoulders. She smiled and looked back at me, pulling it tighter around her.
"Hmm," she said, looking up at me as I held the car door open for her again, "Is your jacket meant to keep me warm? Or to mark your territory? I hope its both."
I didn't answer. I was having a little trouble breathing. We drove to my hotel in silence, holding hands covered in sweat but not daring to look at each other. I think that if I had, I would have stopped and fucked her right there in the passenger seat.
My willpower was almost out and I wanted to be inside my little sister. No. I had to slow down. Think a little bit. If...if I was going to do the wrong thing, I had to at least make it right for her.
"I really want to make you cum so hard that you cry out. I want to hear what you sound like when you can't control yourself any longer."
"Samuel, if you keep talking like that, you might hear what it sounds like in your car. God. My dress is probably soaked."
I smiled.
"My jacket will cover it, just walk with me to the elevator. I should warn you that its got glass windows so everyone can see you."
"You're enjoying this. Torturing me. Teasing your little sister. Making me so wanton for you."
"Wanton," I said as I pulled in to the hotel, rolling the word around in my mind, "Yes. That's how I need you to be. I think I love that word now. Wanton."
I was a gentleman all the way in. Holding doors, leading her across the busy lobby with her arm on mine. Men openly watched her, wanted her. I was proud to be seen with my little sister. Proud that I'd made her wet. We got on the elevator. I leaned in and whispered in her ear:
"I can smell how turned on you are and it's driving me insane. I love you."
I said the last part so simply. We'd been teasing each other up to now, telling the truth to ratchet up the tension, the desire. I did love her. I loved her and the idea of being with anyone else felt like cheating on her. The idea of her being with anyone else made me feel sick and angry. She was my little sister. Mine. And I would make sure she knew it.
"Fuck," was all she said, softly. I saw her knees shake a little.
I put my arm around her. It wasn't just possessive. I led her to my room and opened it quickly. I let her in first and then kicked the door closed behind me. We were finally alone together. We crashed into each other's arms.
We kissed like we were dying, like we needed each other to live. Maybe we did. She didn't kiss like an experienced woman. Intellectually I didn't care if she was a virgin. I loved her and wanted her. But the idea that she was untouched and that I would be her teacher and lover turned me on even more. I felt shame but it was buried deep in the back of my chest, behind my lust and longing.
I crushed her to my chest, feeling her soft but firm body melt into mine. Her breasts felt amazing and heat came off of her sex as she ground against me. Her tongue darted in my mouth, exploring me. She stopped suddenly, breathing hard, leaning into me.
"Please make me feel good. I can't wait any more. I can't. I need you."
I gently picked her up, carrying her in my arms like a husband would across the threshold. I was aware of the similarities. I sat down on the sofa, leaving her in my lap like a child. Without any warning I slid my hand up under her skirt, pushing it over her knees, her thighs and finally to her waist. Her skin was smooth and soft, and so toned. She gasped and drew in her breath as my hand wandered ever upward. She was wearing tasteful but extremely sexy blue panties, silky and cut to barely cover her mons. It was clear that she intended me to see them tonight.
"Your legs feel amazing," I said, stopping briefly to feel her thigh's firm muscles, "Do you work out?"
She nodded, biting her lip. When she spoke it was a hoarse whisper.
"Please stop teasing me, I need you...oh fuck."
While she protested I moved my hand up onto the outside of her panties, applying gentle pressure to her lips and clit. Although I couldn't see them I could feel them, and her fluids made the fabric cling to her like a tight swimsuit. She immediately started to grind against my hand. With her own hands she had grasped fistfuls of my shirt, as if to keep me from leaving her side. Her eyes were closed and she tucked her head into my chest. Her breath came in shallow and I could hear her softly whispering.
"Oh, oh, oh fuck. Samuel please. I love you so much, I do. I need this. I need your fingers inside me. Please...."
I hesitated, this time not to tease her. My conscience, what little of it was left, held me up. I felt something inside me screaming that this was wrong, that I was a monster, taking advantage of my sister, loving her in the wrong way. It was a far weaker voice than the one telling me to make her cum.
My hand slipped under her panties. Oh fuck, she felt so good. I wasn't going to be rough, or fast with her. I gently moved my index finger around her clitoris, feeling its swollen warmth, then I moved my fingers down to her labia, gently rubbing her slick folds.
"Oh fuck, baby, please. You feel so good. Oh, oh fuck."
Her body was tensing, her breathing stopped.
"It's ok, relax. It's me, ok? You can stop me any time you want. I...I love you. I want this to be good for you. Very good."
I felt her relax a bit, she started breathing again.
"O...ok. I trust you, I just. It almost feels like too much. Its so much more than...than when I do it."
I smiled and kissed her gently on her face, moving down to her neck. They were gentle, sweet kisses. I gently moved my thumb over her clitoris and then slowly pushed a finger, slick with her fluids, into her.
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. That feels so good. You feel right inside me. I love you please keep going."
She was unbelievably tight, I was afraid that I might hurt her, so I slowly and carefully pistoned my finger inside of her, placing my palm against her clitoris and mons. She instinctively began to grind against my hand, whimpering every time my finger entered her.
She was already wetter than I'd ever seen, and as I felt inside her tight tunnel, my hand was bathed in ever more liquids. I'd been with only one girl before her, and while I was able to make her cum, I don't think she'd ever been this excited.
I added a second finger and gently pushed against her interior walls, spreading her sex, resisting her clutching muscles. Her grinding increased, her breathing was so rapid that it was almost worrying.
"Oh, oh god what are you doing to me? Why is it so good with you?"
I didn't have any answers for her so I applied more pressure on her clit while moving my fingers in and out of her faster and faster. As her breathing turned to moaning and she was about to peak, I hooked my fingers towards the top of her vaginal wall, finding the rough g-spot and rubbing into it rhythmically.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she swore over and over, entirely out of control, her hips bucked against my hand, her body shook and quivered. She finally let out a cry, loud and high-pitched, and then collapsed, shaking into my arms. I withdrew my fingers gently, caressing her swollen lips, and then simply held her.
I stood up, holding her limp form, and carried her to the bed, laying her down slowly and with care. Her hand wouldn't let go of my shirt, pulling me toward her. I had no intention of leaving her side, and I cuddled close to her, spooning her smaller form against mine. Against my hard cock.
This is where things started to turn on me. Now that she was satisfied and quiet, the voice inside me, the one that hated me, told me I was a monster. Worse than dad. After all, he'd never finger-fucked her.
I didn't want to ruin the moment. I truly didn't. But no matter how hard I try, I can never escape myself.
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The Fight
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I stood up. More suddenly than I had intended. I was breathing too fast. Oh fuck, what had I done?
She was looking up at me, confused, and then alarmed.
"Are you...ok?"
"No. I think you should go. Get your things on I need to take you home."
"What?"
There was so much meaning in that word. I saw confusion, fear, anger, rejection. It hurt too much to even think about.
"I...I need you to go. This isn't right. I'm not right."
"Jesus. Calm down, it's ok."
"No, it's not. But you will be. You need to get out of here, away from me. Then you'll be all right," I was certain that was what had to happen. I loved her, I wanted her. Had I hurt her? I tried to consider the night's events objectively. Did I take advantage of her? Work her up? Make her need me so I could fuck her the way I wanted to?
Although I wouldn't have said so in the moment, now I'm very thankful for her anger. She started shouting.
"No! I won't be ok, you stupid fucker. I love you! I need you! For five years, I looked for you. When I went to bed I imagined that it was you I was holding, not a pillow. When I fingered myself, I was imagining what your cock would feel like inside me, filling me. When I kissed a boy I felt sick with myself, because I knew, I knew that I'd see you again and it was like cheating on you. And you found me. And you love me the way I love you. Tell me I'm wrong."
"It isn't that simple."
"Explain it to me then. Explain why you can't love me. When I know you do. When I feel it, like heat, coming off of you. When you look at me the way you do and I can feel the hunger in your gaze."
"It's not that. I do love you. I love you more than anything. It hasn't changed in five years so it's not going to. But I'm not like you. I'm..."
She wasn't angry now but her eyes still bored into me. I felt completely exposed, helpless. No one else could make me feel that way. I realized that what I saw in her eyes was a kind of desperate compassion. Somehow that burned me more than her anger. She was kneeling now, her dress disheveled, her beautiful hair falling messily behind her. She spoke quietly now, insistently.
"Yes, I'm listening. I want to hear you. Tell me how."
Everything was spinning. I leaned against the wall for a moment. I was desperate not to do this. To let her keep some tiny amount of the image she had of me. The last and only person to ever look up to me, or love me how I needed to be loved. But she'd fallen in love with a memory, someone who didn't exist any more. The last little bit of my mask was slipping and I couldn't stop it from going all the way. I sighed, and took off my shirt. If I showed her, she'd understand. She could have a clean break and hopefully she wouldn't remember me too badly.
The expression that she made was just as bad as I had expected. Maybe worse.
"I know I look disgusting. I'm sorry, but this is just the best way to show you. To let you understand why I'm not who I was. Or who you want me to be."
She was crying now, silently. I made no effort to cover my shame again, although I wanted to.
"I'm not...disgusted. Not with how you look. I'm...I'm sickened by what it means. Samuel, why didn't you tell me? God, it must have been awful, whatever happened. But that doesn't mean I don't want you. How could you think that?"
"How? Because I'm already over. Because I've been trying so hard to just be human, and I can't. I don't know how. Billy did right by me, but some shit you can't fix. This scar," I said, pointing to a white line about three inches long on my lower-left abdomen, "was from dad. He didn't create it, but that's where they had to operate to fix where my intestine had ruptured. These," I said, gesturing to the fifteen or so small circular scars all over my upper-right chest, "were from my first foster family. Gary liked his cigarettes, his drink, and his belt. He got drunk and then saw in me everything he hated about himself, so he burned me. Eventually someone reported him and I was moved again. That's where the real fun started."
She had her hands to her mouth now and was shaking her head. I don't think I could have stopped now if I had tried. I hadn't talked about any of this in years. Billy hadn't even asked after he saw the haunted look in my eyes when I was dropped off, and I didn't blame him.
"I won't even say their names. They weren't killers like dad or simple angry drunks like Gary. No, they were fucking actual sadists. There were eight kids there, I was the oldest. They gave us enough food for four. He liked his knives, and he could usually get you to do what he wanted with them. He didn't ever think he'd deal with someone who didn't care about whether he was gonna be above ground the next day. I ate enough to keep my strength, and I built my rage up every day. And, it turned out, even then, I could fight. I was good at that."
She said something, it sounded like "stop". I didn't know how.
"So he cut me and stabbed me and did his best to kill me, but he didn't hit anything important. That's where I got all of these," I said, gesturing to the many remnants of cuts and gouges over my torso and the defensive scars on my arms, "I kept fighting. Until he stopped getting up and my hands hurt so much I couldn't even make a fist any more. I took all of the kids out of there, but I didn't have any plan. We got picked up by the cops inside of an hour. But I guess we got lucky because they listened to me. And the other kids backed me up. They'd been there longer and had it worse than I did. So I got pulled from there. But who wanted a sixteen year-old kid who fought? Who beat his foster-father almost to death, even if he was a monster? No one. So Billy took me in. Because I was exactly the sort of last-resort head-case he tried to help."
I realized that I was crying now. I hadn't even noticed it. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried. Was it the first night at Billy's? Could have been. Marilyn was walking towards me. Her expression was unreadable, but it was clear to me that she was done with me. It made me sad, but I understood.
"So that's what I am. He did his best, but I can't make this shit in my head go away. And yeah, I'm not violent right now, but who fucking knows what will set me off? Who knows when I'll start hurting someone because it feels good? It's all in here," I tapped my head, "and here," I took her hand and put her palm on my chest, "and I can't get rid of it. My nightmares are made of this. Its what tries to get out when I get too angry or scared. That's who I really am. I'm sorry I can't be what you deserve."
She had a sad expression, but made no move to leave.
"Samuel. It's always just been you on your own, hasn't it? You had Billy, but he couldn't see your pain. You didn't let him because you thought you were a monster. They hurt you so much that you started to believe what they said. But you are not worthless. You might need therapy. I did. You might need medication. I did for three years. That's not your fault. That doesn't make you a bad person. And you aren't alone. So get it through your fucking skull that your little sister isn't leaving you. Do you know what my family would do if they heard what you told me?"
I shook my head. I could imagine the horror at having let someone like me into their home, with their children.
"They'd say exactly the same thing I just did. That's what they said to me, before they even really knew me. When I told them the awful things that dad did to you. You had it worse also you might need more help. That's it. That's the only difference between us."
I opened my mouth to speak, but she gently put her finger to my lips.
"No. I need you to understand this. This is the irony of being you. You've been through so much, it's natural to doubt yourself or worry that you'll be like those other monsters. But your worry? Your concern for me? No monster would care. They're afraid of being caught, not of hurting anyone. You saved me. More than once. Now you need to let me save you. I'm not asking you to change or fix everything right away. I can see how badly you're hurting. So just trust me. That's it. Trust that I can see you better than you can and that I'll be beside you while you work to heal yourself. Do you trust me?"
I nodded. I was still crying silently. I couldn't speak, couldn't move. I was frozen in her gaze. She smiled. It was real and true and honest and I could feel how she saw me. As her brother, hero, and lover. Could she be right?
"Good. You've already done so much for me. I've never felt this good or been this wet. That's what you do to me so easily. When you touched the small of my back in the parking lot, my knees got weak. I almost fell down. I couldn't even speak for a minute. I'd never felt anything like that before. Just from touching me on the back. Do you understand how perfect you are for me? How much love I feel for you right now? How you make me feel loved? I don't think you can. But I can show you. Make love to me."
She unfastened the dress at her neck, letting it slide down her perfect body. She was shorter than I was, but not petite. Athletic and toned all over, tanned everywhere. I distractedly wondered if she'd have tan lines under her silky blue bra and panties.
She blushed at my obvious interest, but also stood a little more confidently now that she could clearly see the effect that she had no me.
"This is just for you, Samuel. Do you understand? Only you've seen me like this. Only you get to be inside me. Only you, forever."
Then she took her bra off, fumbling a little at the familiar motion. She dropped it to the ground, then smoothly removed her panties in a crouch, stepping out of them. She did have tan lines. Her curves were almost shocking to me, even though I knew that she had grown up quite a bit. Gone were the small breasts and hips, replaced by firm, proportional curves. Her breasts weren't large, but they were firm, and shaped like perfect teardrops, with a gentle upturn. I had already felt her soft but muscular ass, and held her youthful hips in my hands. My body told me that she was everything I wanted in a woman.
She stood before me, nude, beautiful, and vulnerable. I had no power to resist her.
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First Time
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I moved towards her, intent but not in a rush. My body was sure but my mind was full of confusion. If I listened to it for much longer I would fall apart. So I trusted Marilyn and believed in her. I knew that I loved her and wanted her, and she felt the same for me. The rest would have to wait until later.
As I grew close, she put her palms on my chest, as if to stop me, but then guided me to the bed, where she gently pushed me to a seated position. She knelt on the floor and took my shoes and socks off. I don't know why but this simple act of care made me love her beyond what I thought possible. She stood me up and took off my pants and boxers in a similar way, but this time she locked eyes with me as she did it, making my cock throb even harder. Throughout all of this, I had not softened a bit. I realized that from now on my sister would be able to make be grow erect with a word, a glance, or even simply her presence.
"God," she said, running her finger along my hard chest and abs, "You're all muscle, and all for me."
As she rose from her task, I took her in my arms. I was so acute in my need that I was in pain, and there was only one type of satisfaction that my cock was willing to accept. I kissed her on the mouth, pressing her toned and willing body against mine, exploring her mouth with my tongue. She whimpered, deep in her throat as my member pressed against her firm belly. I guided her back and around onto the bed, pushing her gently until she lay back up on the pillow.
She looked so fine there, light brown hair spilling over her shoulders, legs slightly parted, as if she wished nothing more than to spread them for me but some remnant of hesitancy remained.
"Is this all right, Samuel?"she asked, "I mean, I know that what we are doing...its fine, and I want you inside me, so much. I guess...I just don't want you to think I'm a slut."
I smiled back, hungrily.
"I love you. I'll never think you're a slut. I think we've both waited a very long time for this. I'm sorry that my first time wasn't with you, I regret that."
She looked relieved.
"You'll be my first. I don't blame you. I was so full of desire for you, sometimes I just wanted someone, anyone, to fuck me. But you're here now. And I'm ready, love."
I got on top of her, looking down at her beauty, her breasts spreading across her chest, her eyes glittering up at me. I gently used my legs to push hers open more, granting me access to her sex. Her natural curly hair surrounded it, and her scent announced her readiness to me. She was still just as wet as when I had made her cum moments ago.
As soon as the head of my cock was at her wet slit, she cried out. I was afraid for a moment but she looked up at me and nodded quickly. I pushed my head into her slick folds, barely an inch inside her. She was tight, so tight I thought I might cum right away. She moaned and I kept going.
"Oh, fuck, you're so fucking tight, so good," I needed her to understand how much I needed her.
She gasped as I filled her, my balls pressing up against her now. She clung to me a moment, a tear rolling from her eye.
"Did I hurt you? I can stop," I said, although I didn't want to. We both understood sacrifice, and I would suffer more ache if it would prevent her discomfort.
She shook her head and smiled.
"No, that's not why I'm crying. I'm crying because I didn't know if I would ever get my brother back. And even when I saw you I could sense something inside you, something that wanted to run from what we felt for each other. Now, I have you. I really have you, and I'm going to keep you."
"You're going to have to keep me, because I'm going to need this cunt forever."
I started to move, moaning her name as she gripped me tightly. She was in shape, everywhere, and I could tell that my cock was filling her well. She gasped and whimpered and her fingers dug into my back, pulling me in, always deeper.
I filled her with long, full strokes of my shaft, giving her no chance to recover, no respite. Her breathing was near to sobbing as I filled her wet warmth again and again. Soon she was moaning at every stroke, whimpering when my cock withdrew.
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. This is...oh, god, better. Its better than your fingers. I need this, love, I need this every night."
"You can have it, whenever we can be alone," I said, breathing heavily with the effort, "I'm helpless with you. I could never resist being inside you, fucking you, taking you like you're my property."
My words made her moans louder. I was starting to understand what she needed from me, how she wanted me. How she needed to be owned by me, to be bound to me, with me forever.
"Fuck, I'm cumming, I can't stop. Please don't stop, I love you so much,"
Her back arched and she cried out loud enough to be easily heard in all the adjoining rooms. I didn't care and began to fuck her harder and faster, prolonging her orgasm. She cried out again and again.
"Samuel, oh god Samuel its too much, fuck..."
As her orgasm finally started to die off, I started to cum, stronger than I ever had before. I could feel thick, ropy strands of my semen filling her, running into her womb, and squirting out around my cock along with her fluids. I could feel her have an aftershock orgasm from the sensation of my warm seed, clutching at my cock with her innermost muscles, draining me dry of every last drop.
I barely avoided collapsing on her, rolling off of her, my cock leaving her with an audible wet noise. She whimpered one more time, then rolled over with me, resting her head on my chest. We were both panting. Her hands moved over my body and held on to me, as if preventing my escape. I gently stroked her hair and back to reassure her.
I wasn't going anywhere.
We lay together like that, for a very long time, not speaking, until we finally nodded off.
It was without a doubt the most content I have ever been.
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Drop Off
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Later, Marilyn woke up, texting her parents that we had stayed up too late talking, and that she would sleep here. Me, being a gentleman, would sleep on the couch. The truth was that as she sent the message I was kissing her neck and collarbone, on my way to eating her out. She hit send and dropped her phone to the floor as my tongue found her pussy.
We slept in each others arms, only waking late the following morning. We both showered, although neither of us minded smelling like what we had done the prior night.
"I like smelling like your cum," she said, "I feel like you're with me, inside me."
After that I took her to breakfast, and we talked about the future. We decided that I would move back to the city. I had skills with repair and could probably find a decent job, and we could go to the city college together. Although I was ready to take loans out she was certain that Harlan and Beth would help with my tuition. I decided not to ask but to accept any support. After all, the less debt the easier it would be for us to support ourselves when we were together.
I dropped her off after that. It was agony for both of us, and she made me promise that if I felt guilty or panicked that I'd call her first, before doing anything. I agreed. I think before we had made love I would have felt bad, or weak for doing so. Now I understood. I'd saved her when she'd needed me, and this was her turn. She understood how to get me on the path to recovery, and I would follow her as she had in the past.
I didn't know about happily ever after, but both of us were happy for now. We'd see each other on Sunday, and a few times a week. Karla probably already knew that we had slept together, in her intuitive way, but at least she approved. We'd need to be careful of everyone else, mind the path, plan our future carefully. Sometimes finding and being with the one you love is difficult, with obstacles and traps everywhere.
I've found its worth the risk.
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Afterword
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As always, thank you for reading. All comments are read, and respectful non-anonymous feedback is replied to. Rating and favoriting are appreciated, but honestly, I simply appreciate that you gave me some of your time and let me tell you a story.
I hope to see you again.