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ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!
OK, I AM GOING TO POST A NEW ONE. Someone better post after me!!!
It was December again, the month of the year they traveled South to West Palm Beach to stay with their grandmother for Christmas. But it was different this year. Gram had died that September, and they were going to pack her things. The house they'd spent so many happy years in was empty and cold, the white tile echoing footsteps.
They arrived at 3 PM on the 18th, their mother nervously shoving the key into the lock. The door swung open and it smelled empty. It looked so desolate. Mary Ann sighed. She was a pleasant looking woman, their mother. She hadn't had an easy life. Her husband had left her when her eldest child Riley was 3 and her daughter Kristyn was hardly a year old. She was blonde like her children, platinum from fake baking too much, trying desperately to get herself a date. It wasn't hard, of course, being as pretty and Monroe-esque as she was. She stood about 5'6, maybe a size ten now, putting on a bit of weight after having children. Her figure was pleasing; she was narrow waisted, buxom, long legged. No, getting a date wasn't hard. But she didn't want what all of the attractive men she dated wanted; Mary Ann wanted real love, the kind she thought she'd had with her husband.
But that had been years ago. Fifteen now. Riley was almost eighteen, his sister Kristyn had just gotten her driving license.
Riley was a bad habit kind of guy. The kind of guy you stare at a lot in class. He was average height, maybe 5'11, slender. Outwardly, he didn't look much different than any other guy his age. He reminded his friends vaguely of the blue eyed boy on the cover of the film "Elephant." His hair was straight, light blonde, a little long, like his mother's. He had a strong chin, rounded nose, broad back. He'd turned out attractive, anyone would say so. He dressed in an unconventional fashion, it always had been. He'd gotten a mohawk in 9th grade, but had long since grown out of his "punk" phase. He still wore some of this old clothes, mostly the worn teeshirts. He sported a Bad Religion shirt that day. His pants hung low on his hips, not too low, just in a normal, typical fashion. He sometimes wore vests or cardigans over his tee shirts, but more often he just looked normal. And he was.
Kristyn resembled her mother in the same way; her hair was strawberry, past her shoulders, curling a little at the ends when she didn't iron it. She had a dusting of freckles over her nose, which pointed in an almost aristocratic fashion. She was petite, barely 5'2, but looked very much like her mother, still, in the way of her figure. Narrow waisted, large breasted. She had big, lovely eyes and if she weren't so quiet the boys at home would love her and look at her even more than they did.
She looked out over the expanding rays of sunlight winding down the empty front entry way and into the living room.
"God this is going to be hard," Mary Ann said, wiping her forehead. She pulled her orange teeshirt away from her chest and fanned air beneath it. Riley rocked on his heels and stared out through the window behind the covered couch. He could see the pool on the covered back deck and thought of how overheated he was, how badly he'd like to dive in. He glanced at his sister and bolted for the door at the back of the room, slamming the lock open and running to the edge of the water, shoes and all, until he got close enough to just jump in. Kristyn was yelling after him but he couldn't hear her, really. The water was so cold.
His jeans weighted him down and he paddled to the shallow end of the pool. Kristyn was sitting at the edge with her feet in the water. She gave him a funny kind of look, tilting her head to the side. Her hair fell over her shoulder.
"Join?" he asked.
"No thanks."
"Come on."
Mary Ann watched from the sliding door.
"I'm going to start unpacking. Kris you're in the left room in back, Riley you're in the right room with the blue carpet. I already put your bags in there. Share the pool bathroom." He nodded and Kristyn gave her a smile. She disappeared into the house again.
"Anyone ever tell you you look like that kid from Elephant? The one with the drunk dad?" Kristyn said.
"YES, I've been told. You look like... Pippy Longstockings. FRECKLES." She kicked water into his face. "Bad move," he said, grabbing her legs beneath the knee. His hands were freezing. She fought to get out of the grip but ended up sliding into the water with him.
"I HATE YOU."
"I know," he said. She didn't really hate him. She always said so, but she didn't. He'd always been there for her, the protective brother that every little sister should have. He told her the truth about life and she liked that. He wouldn't let his friends date her. She only sometimes liked that. The guitarist in his band had liked her for a long time and she didn't know how to tell her brother that she'd been with him. She couldn't tell him. She didn't know what he'd do. She truly admired Tom, that was his name. He was clever and talented, full of wry humor. She'd slept with him. And she liked that too. Riley wouldn't understand that. He'd go primal and beat up Tom for it if he ever found out. But he'd have to, eventually, if things got serious enough, wouldn't he? She tried to not to think about it and floated onto her back.
The sun beat down and reflected off of the water. Her skin burned easily and she realized she probably shouldn't be in the sun without any sunscreen on.
"I have to go inside."
"Why?" he asked.
"I'm going to get sunburned."
"OHHH, shit. Good idea." He had the same semi fair complexion, though he tanned much better than she did. He lifted himself out of the pool on his arms; the slight muscles he'd developed from drumming so much showed up beneath his shirt. Kristyn had gone inside.
~~~
They were eating dinner late that night. All of the unpacking had gotten in the way. All three of them had showered and donned their pajamas, since it was nearly 9 o clock. Mary Ann yawned.
"Ok, I made the food. You guys do the dishes." Riley whined a little but clammed up when Kristyn kicked his leg under the table. Their mother had to be tired and a little vexed, being in the empty house that had belonged to her late mother.
"Thank you." She retreated into the master bedroom and left the two of them to finish the meal. Riley was quiet, sitting cross legged on the kitchen chair in a pair of thin sweatpants and a white teeshirt. He stared at Kristyn, who played with the pasta on her plate silently. He hair was tied back in a low bun, sitting in a messy curly ball at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a pale pink camisole and floral pajama shorts that hardly covered her thighs. She'd had them forever; there was a hole near the elastic on the hip. Riley looked at her, benignly at first. But he hadn't really noticed, for some reason, until that moment, how pretty she was. Her eyes pointed downward and made her look sad, her narrow chin making a poignant shadow on the place mat next to her. Her shoulders jutted out and she leaned on the flat part of the insides of her wrists. He stared, much less benignly, at the dip between her breasts. Christ, he thought. What happened to her? He turned away from where he'd been focusing a moment later, feeling a little ashamed. It was probably normal. She was female. It wasn't like he wanted to do her or anything. He was just noticing that she'd grown up a little...
She bit her lip and it was only then that he noticed she was crying.
"Kris?" She sobbed and wiped her eyes quickly. "Kris?" He moved into the chair next to her. "You okay?" she nodded.
"I just miss Gram."
"Me too," he said. She sobbed a little harder and a few tears fell into her half eaten plate. He wrapped his arm around her. "Hey its okay, come on." She began to weep then, hard. So hard she breathed choppy and coughed for air. He pulled her into his lap sideways and she wrapped her arms around his back. He used to hold her like that when she was a kid and she fell down or something, whenever she got hurt. Then he'd put a Band-Aid on her and they'd go back to playing whatever game they were playing. But it wasn't as easy as a Band-Aid this time. He held her very close to him and felt her chest heave, rising and falling, jumping with every sob.
They had always been close, but in the months since their grandmother died (to whom they were both very near to), they'd gotten even closer. He stroked her hair and she calmed down a little bit, her muffled crying dissipating. She sat back in her chair again and looked at him.
"Sorry," she said. Her eyes were bloodshot and electric blue.
"Don't be sorry," he said. "I miss her too." She smiled faintly and picked up her dish, then the other two.
He followed her and put away the leftovers, standing at the sink drying the dishes she washed. They finished and she attempted to put them away, but the shelf was too high for her to reach.
"Here," he said, trying to grab them from her.
"I can do it!" she said lightly. "Watch." He stood back and she climbed onto the counter, standing up on her knees and sliding the china into its place. He watched her shoulder blades move. The camisole rode up and he could see the dimple in her lower back. God what the hell am I doing? he thought. Shut up shut up. He followed her into the bathroom with two sinks and they brushed their teeth like they did at home, side by side. She tried to open her toiletry bag, but the zipper was jammed. She yanked at it and it fell from her hands, its contents spilling on the floor.
"Idiiiiot," he said, bending down to help her pick up the spilled items. She reached for the rectangular package of pills but his hand got the them first. He stared at her blankly. "What the fuck is this?" He asked, staring at the package. Her pupils dilated and she could feel panic rising in her stomach. "Well?" He started to raise his voice.
"I was going to tell you."
"Bullshit."
"I figured you'd find out..."
"BULL FUCKING SHIT. Who?!"
"I can't tell you who."
"God damn it Kristyn..." He looked at the floor. She started to shake. "Tell me now. Right now."
"I'm sorry," she said. She paused.
"Why should I have to tell you?" She asked, suddenly. He glared at her.
"Because you're sixteen and you're my little sister and I have a right to know who the hell you've been fucking!" he screamed.
"I can take care of myself!"
"How? Whoring yourself?! Being a fucking SLUT?!" She slapped the side of his face. Hard. He held the place where her small hand left a red mark. He was stunned. How could she do this to him? How could she keep this from him? They told each other everything. They always had. He raised his hand to the side of her face and slapped her back.
She lost her balance and fell against the glass shower door. Her knees bent and she sat, motionless on the floor. He was absolutely enraged. She was crying so hard. Her nose was running and she was yelling at him but he wasn't listening.
"It's TOM, okay!? It's Tom!" That part he heard.
Suddenly he looked down at her and felt disgusted. He felt so sick he thought he was going to vomit. There was Kristyn in a sorry looking position, crying, scared of him. Who the hell was he? Why would he do this? He was protecting her, wasn't he? She'd slapped him in the face. But god he'd deserved it. Her hair had loosened and it was tangled and wet from the shower still, falling over her face, which was red and covered in tears. He stared down at her and reached out to her but she cowered away from his hand.
"I won't..."
"Don't TOUCH ME!" she screamed. "GET AWAY FROM ME, PLEASE, GO." He backed up towards the door and left her crumbled in a ball by the shower.
~~~
He'd fallen asleep late that night, thinking about how badly he must have hurt her. His chest ached from it. Tom was a good guy. Why had he acted that way? He just REacted. And badly. He didn't know what to do or how to make it up to her. He slept dreamlessly and woke up around 8 in the morning. His head was pounding and all he could think about was Kristyn. He got out of bed and opened the door to her room. He knew she wouldn't be awake yet. He crept over to the edge of her bed. She looked so peaceful asleep like that. He didn't want to see her expression change when he talked to her. He sat on the floor, waiting for her to wake up. Hoping it would be soon. Hoping she'd forgive him so he could stop hating himself. She stirred a little and opened one eye half way; the light from the window was shining into her face. He stared at her and she stared back.
"Kris..."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I know you..."
"No. I should be sorry. I hit you. God, I fucking hit you." She looked down at her pillow.
"I hit you too."
"It's not the same. I deserved it."
"No you didn't. I should have told you about Tom."
"Tom isn't a bad guy. I don't know why..."
"You were just being paternal or something. You know? Being the father."
"I guess."
"I know. I'm fine."
"You can be with whoever you want. I'm sorry I tried to make you feel like shit about it. I just don't want you to get fucked over like mom did."
"I know. That's why I have the pills."
"Yeah."
Neither spoke for a moment. She stared at his face while he looked at the floor. She could tell he hadn't slept well. He needed a shave and his eyes were heavy and bloodshot. His hair stuck up oddly from sleeping. He looked at her and smiled. His teeth were straight and white and his bottom lip was fuller than the top. "I want to forget that ever happened." She didn't know if she could do that right away, but she loved him. And she knew she was already forgiving him.
"So you want to go swimming?" She asked.
"Yeah. I'm going to sleep a little longer though."
"That's alright," she said. "I wanted to lay out for a while anyways."
He left the room quietly and she got out of bed, pulling the covers over, half neatly. She pulled her favorite black and white polka dot bikini out of her suitcase and laid it out on her bed next to the sunscreen. She pulled off her tank top. She rays of sunlight splayed over her half naked body and she closed her eyes because of the warmth. She put on the sunscreen quickly, running her hands over her stomach and chest. She glanced at the silver belly button ring and noticed it was missing a diamond.
"Shit," she mumbled, tying the bikini top at the neck. She pulled off her shorts and turned around in the mirror; her stomach had a pleasant curve to it. She wasn't heavy at all, thin even. But she had a little meat between her hip bones, which showed up nicely as well. She tied the bikini bottoms at the sides and adjusted the triangle top, proceeding out the door.
She reached the patio and felt the warm breeze as she opened the screened enclosure to the backyard. There was a lazy looking river running behind the house and just enough grass to lay in the sun and tan. She arranged her towel and sunscreen, putting on her white sunglasses and laying on her stomach. She nearly fell asleep when she realized the swimsuit would leave tan lines. She untied the top and resumed her relaxing. She laid for about two hours, read some Cosmopolitan, until her mother came outside and told her she was going to the supermarket.
"Okay," she said.
"Anything you want while I'm there?"
"Nah."
"Okay. Wake up Riley please. It's past eleven." She laughed. He was probably already up, but she retied her swimsuit and went back inside.
The house was cool and dark. It was a pleasant change to be out of the heat for a moment. She went into her brother's room to find that he wasn't there. She heard glasses clatter in the kitchen and went in that direction.
"Morning," she said to him. He was standing in his cut off shorts, shirtless, making lemonade in a glass pitcher.
"Hey," he said. She walked around the island counter and leaned over the glass he was pouring. "Want some?"
"Sure," she said. "Mom went to the supermarket." He nodded, glancing down at her. She watched him crush a few lemons. His shoulders flexed mildly. She liked how he looked. Her friends always talked about him when they visited her house. She never really looked at him that way, but something about the way he'd acted the previous night and the remorse he felt that morning changed her perception of him. She saw him in a different way, more of an outside way. Looking in from the outside and not outside from the in. His hip bones molded into a V shape, subtlety defined. He hadn't really played sports in school, but he looked fit enough. Better than some of the boys who did. She leaned on the counter, sipping the lemonade.
"I'll meet you outside," she said calmly. She returned to her place on the towel in the grass, this time laying face up. She didn't take off the top, but she untied the strings around her neck so that they didn't mark her shoulders. She could feel the minimal support she got from the ties give away. The sides of her breasts fell a little from beneath the triangle top. She heard Riley jump into the pool a few minutes later and got up to join him, leaving her sunglasses and other possessions in the yard. She eased into the water and he watched her with amusement.
"Why don't you just jump in?" He said.
"Because."
He crossed his arms and floated onto his back. She got in finally and reached for the basketball floating near his head. She shot for the hoop near the ladder and missed. She shot a few more times and missed all three.
"You're doing it wrong," he said wisely.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Here." He stood up and shook his hair out, grabbing the ball from her. He made the shot. "Wrist," he said, demonstrating the movement. She aimed again and fell short. "Look," he said. He grabbed her arm from behind. Her wet skin slid under his fingers. "Like THIS." He moved her wrist accordingly. She shot and made the basket.
"AH ha!" He laughed at the enthusiasm.
"Got it?" He said.
"Mhm."
"Good." He lunged and snatched the ball, making a shot and picking it up again. She swam after him and reached up as high as she could. She wasn't tall enough and she leaned into him. Her chest pressed against his and he realized very vividly that she was nearly naked. His stomach started to hurt a little and he stopped teasing her, tossing the ball the other way.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"Yeah." He wasn't though. He couldn't stop thinking about how wrong it was. He watched her from across the pool.
"Come on!" She yelled. He waded towards her and tried not to think about it. But it was getting worse and worse. He couldn't handle touching her, even for a moment. He stole the ball from her finally and tucked it under his arm. But she jumped against his back and groped for it. It was too much.
She knew exactly what was happening too. The funny part was, she liked it. She liked making him so nervous. She liked being the only one of her friends who knew him this way. She disregarded her position in his life for a second and stood facing him in the waist deep water, tossing the ball back and forth between her hands. She got closer and closer to him and every second of it was torturous. He knew it was wrong but it didn't feel that way. She knew the same thing but part of her physically wanted him.
He didn't move and she moved so close to him that he could feel her breathing. Their foreheads touched; she could see the water beading off of the tip of his nose. His hands touched her arms and she breathed into his mouth. She stared at his burning face and he looked up at her eyes and grabbed the back of her neck, pressing his wet mouth against hers. And she kissed back.
He kissed her hard and she slid her tongue against his. He shuddered and she felt his erection against her thigh. She moved closer until her leg was against him there. He buried his face in her shoulder, then between her breasts. She smelled like chlorine and coconut sunscreen and he kissed her there, pulling the bikini top away from her slowly. She breathed in a scared sounding way. He stared at her face and she stared back, holding his shoulders. He kissed her, almost violently and she dug her hands into his lower back. He pressed her bare chest against his and he could feel her heart pounding. He thought that somewhere maybe he wasn't the only one this was happening to. He couldn't be. He had to stop doing this, but he couldn't.
He cupped her breasts in his hands and pressed against them. Her head fell forward into his shoulder and she rolled her hips into his as he held the sides of her face, sliding his mouth onto hers. She was shaking; he was still holding her swimsuit top. She'd never felt something so primal and intense. She moved her hand down his stomach and between his thighs. He let out a low vocalization, laying his cheek on her forehead. He gripped her wrist.
"Please stop," he said weakly.
But she didn't want to stop. She started to rub there. He was so hard it hurt. She squeezed and kneaded there and he hated that it felt so good.She moved faster, pressing her entire body into her hand. He gripped her breast and she breathed slow and rough.
Suddenly he pushed her off of him and turned away from her, getting out of the water and going into the pool bathroom they fought in the night before. She followed him, suddenly feeling cold and naked, alone in the pool. He was standing in the shower with the water on. He'd taken off his shorts. She stared at the back of his naked body and pulled the door open. He turned around and looked at her painfully.
She ran her hands through his hair and whispered something vague to him, kissing the side of his face once and again and then again, running her lip over his ear.
He fell against her again. He felt as though he'd left his body and he was watching himself do the unthinkable. Kristyn kissed his chest, his collar bones. The water was hot; the steam leaked over the edge of the glass door. It was so foggy he could hardly see.
She pulled off her swimsuit bottoms and spread her thighs over his knee. Her entire body was wet and hot. He forced her back against the shower wall and pressed himself into her, moving his hand down between her legs. She inhaled sharply. He slipped two fingers inside of her. She was tight and whined a little when he thumbed her clit. She gripped the back of his neck. He rubbed her hard. Her knees weakened and bent over his hand. He sucked the taught, wet skin on her neck, moving his mouth down to her nipple. He sucked there too and she moaned softly. He pulled his fingers out of her and turned her on her stomach, lifting her backside to his hips. She resisted for a moment but relaxed when he rubbed her stomach and kissed her shoulder blades gently. Her body arched and he spread her legs, her supple ass, sliding inside of her. Her entire body shook as he started to press into her. Over and over. She moaned and he breathed hard; he lifted her hips until she was on her toes. He slammed into her, disappearing into her wet flesh. She moaned louder when he moved quicker and harder. She could hear the sound of his hips against her ass. Her breasts moved up and down and he rode her, rubbing his fingers against her. Her legs opened wider and he grabbed between them, pressing hard on her clit, feeling the place he was moving into her. He sped up again, biting his lip, staring down at himself sliding in and out, opening her cheeks wider to see it. He gyrated his body and gripped her thighs and hips, moving up to her breasts. He sucked air into his lungs and lifted her against him, coming inside of her. She shook violently, rubbing herself, moaning. She came a moment later, her knees bending. He supported her, holding her stomach, pulling out of her. He laid on top of her, in the basin of the shower, breathing rough, regaining conscience.
There was an unspoken rift between them now. They would never be the same. No Band-Aid could cover it.
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