Leia and the Wrong Brother

"So, Leia, how are your two boys," Doctor Witzner asked as he concluded his dental examination. "Let's see, James, your oldest should be a freshman in college... what...a sophomore...and attending and dorming at the University? Eh, planning on become an engineer like his father and eventually join the family business? Already working part-time as one? Good for him. James is a real achiever. Guess how tall is he? The last time I saw him he was just under six-feet...what...six-feet-two? Not bad for a Japanese young man. But, he has Matt's big bone structure – like father, like son.

"And how's that rascal of a second son, Pete? Carla asks you to say hello to him for her. The two used to get into so much mischief when they were in elementary school...clean stuff 'tho...she was the tall blond white girl and he was the short dark-haired Asian boy – a real charmer, your youngest. Carla is five-nine now and always tells me to ask you how tall is Pete. Five-six...and that's after a recent growth spurt? Well, he's got a different physique than James...more on the slender side...doesn't take after Matt. But don't worry...you're what...five-eight...and given Matt's six-one-height... it's just a matter of time for Pete. It's all in his genes."

I squirmed as I realized just how close my dentist's offhanded remark had come to my most guarded secret. How many people had casually commented about the differences between my two sons and how they didn't look like brothers? Most of the time these observations could be dismissed due to the four-year aged difference of my sons, and then to puberty which my oldest had gone through first which added to his height and bulk. The early promise of what Pete might become deflected a great deal of speculation...for now.

But as their mother, I was keenly aware of their emerging personality differences. James was like Matt with a plodding, methodical, and sometime as moody outlook. As the first son in a Japanese-American family, he expected a lot to be done for him, but was one who always conforms to expectations. Like his father, he apprenticed at various engineering and construction firms, opting to earn a steady salary and with the intent of becoming part of the family construction business. Also like his father, James frivolously spent his hard-earned money on whatever caught his fancy, and this drove me crazy.

Andrew, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. Although innately smart, academics weren't my youngest son's priority. He was the social one who had a knack of getting along with anyone, and counted his wealth in terms of friends instead of material objects. Unlike his brother, Pete was a real entrepreneur who enjoyed easily making money through a variety of ventures, and saved it to reinvest.

For the truly inquisitive about why Pete is so physically different from James, my calm explanation of personalities variations and recessive genes satisfied most. However, for the most persistent or rudely nosy people like my aggravating mother-in-law, I reluctantly referred to Pete as the proverbial "runt" of the litter. Only I knew the hidden truth about my youngest – Pete is the son of my husband's younger brother – Len.

"Where do I begin," I asked myself as I gazed at a picture of my youngest son lying next to my secreted picture of Len. "Perhaps at the beginning...with myself and my family."

My first recollection was that I was a socially awkward...no, socially retarded...a better description...as I grew up. You see, my parents had emigrated from Japan to the United States in search of a better life and settled in Honolulu on the Hawaiian island of Oahu. Father was a sushi chef who for modest day's pay, worked long hours from the early morning, selecting fish at the docks, and then serving late night customers. Somewhere along their adjustment to Hawaii, I was born – a female to the disappointment of both of my parents.

Mother was a simple woman who followed my Father to live in a foreign land. She was responsible for maintaining the household in accordance with the three driving principles of our family. First and foremost was that women existed to serve men. This pillar if Japanese culture engrained in me as I observe my Mother getting up before my Father to make his breakfast and lunch. While she rigorously ensured that cooking, washing, and cleaning were well-engrained my formative years, my Mother catered to my younger brother as the second male of the family. I realized now that she set the example for my later years by showing me that no matter how tired or what mood she was in, she willingly satisfied my father's carnal needs whenever the urge came upon him.

The second tenet was that we only associated with other Japanese. Although my parents chose to emigrate, they clung fiercely to customs of the old country that they had left. Because they both spoke enough English to get by, they associated only with other similar Japanese immigrants which reinforced the "birds of the feather" concept. While Hawaii's public schools exposed me a variety of ethnicities, I wasn't allowed to socialize with and especially date non-Japanese boys. Unfortunately, given my above-normal height, I didn't get any social offers from the few Japanese boys that my family knew. These obstacles and limitation contributed to my personal ineptitude and social handicap when entering the world of men and romance.

The third tenet was as a dutiful daughter to simply fulfill my parents' top individual desires. For my father, it was to marry someone tall. At six-feet-tall, my father was big for a Japanese man of his generation, and he wanted to make sure that his grandchildren weren't the stereotypical short-Japanese kids. My mother's desire was for me to marry a professional who could provide the money and lifestyle she had yearned for.

From a tender age, both of my parents constantly harangued me, hammering into me their own biases and desires until they unknowingly became mine. Perhaps this explains why I came to marry Matt.

When I entered the State University, I was programmed to find a man who fit the parameters set down by my parents. The task was complicated by the fact that while I was what some would nicely say was "nice to look at," I wasn't a stunning Asian beauty. Although I had nice long legs, the rest of me might be described as "spoon-shaped" with curvy hips and buns that didn't quite match my trim waist and rather modest breasts. Appearance-wise, I was just one of the many "okay" Asian girls who flooded the campus.

I stumbled through my freshman year frantically adjusting to the hustle-and-bustle of college life, but always had the mandate to find a suitable husband hanging over my head. Although I had many male Japanese classmates, they didn't express much of an interest in me since I was much taller than most. Most of my interactions with members of the opposite sex were limited to class projects and a few casual group activities. If it hadn't been for getting my jeans cuff caught in my bike chain, I probably would have never I met my burly soon-to-be boyfriend and eventual husband, Matt.

Matt was an engineering upper classman who just stumbled across me when I came to a screeching halt due to my cuff-bike-chain dilemma. "Hey, there," Lance chuckled as I almost crashed into him. "If you want to meet me, you can just say, 'Hello.' There's no need to throw yourself and especially your bike at me."

I stammered a hasty apology and pleaded for help because I couldn't move due to the problem. Propping me up so I wouldn't fall, Matt diagnosed the problem and said, "Hmmm, what a mess. The easiest way to fix the problem was for you to take off your pants so that I can turn the wheel cog easier." When I gasped and balked at what he had said, he laughed at my facial expression and said, "Okay, we'll hard to do this the hard way."

With that Matt somehow managed hug me to him while lifting me to my surprise. As he then slowly turned my bike's gear and chain and worked my jeans free, he shared that he came from the island of Hawaii (or commonly called the Big Island) and was the son of a general contractor which explained engineering studies. Because he had a good understanding of all mechanical things and he had the ability to pretty much fix any problem including pants stuck in a bike chain.

I had never been so intimately close to a non-family male. I gulped as I found myself automatically checking off the indoctrinated demands of my parents. Matt was Japanese – check. He was about my Father's height but had a brawny frame that made him look taller and imposing – check. He was going to be a civil engineer and as the eldest son, would likely inherit his father's business – check. However, while Matt was okay-looking, he was rough around the edges and didn't make my heart go pitter-patter. Still I 'convinced' myself that he fit the bill (my parents', that is) and was worth pursuing – a weak but definite check.

I was about to thank Matt for freeing my pants when he said, "Okay, that does it. I would have been quicker if you had taken off you pants – I mean it's not as if I haven't seen a girl in her panties. Hmmm, you'll need to roll up your pants or get a cuff protector or maybe a chair guard if you don't want this happening again. What would you do if I'm not around the next time it happens? Oh, damn it! I'm late for my class because you wouldn't listen and obey me!"

I apologized quickly and then hesitantly offering to buy him a cup of coffee. Matt just considered my offer while looking at me in a strangely assessing manner. Then to my complete surprise, he said, "I'm not too much into coffee, but you can buy me a cold beer at my favorite off-campus pub. And if you're really good to me, I'll let you buy me another one."

I was stunned. I was being asked out on a date – of sorts – my very first date of my life. Although initially taken aback at Matt's boldness, I stammered at hasty acceptance that would change my life forever.

What I didn't know at the time that Matt was operating under similar family edicts as I was. He needed to find a Japanese girl as mandated by both his parents – check. She had to be innocent...a virgin, if possible – double check. Having dealt with his outspoken wife throughout his marriage, Matt's father insisted that his son find a woman who had a traditional upbringing where a woman knew her place and was deferential to the men of her family – triple check. No beauty queen was what his mother demanded. Any possible wife of her son had to have hips for bearing 's grandchildren – a big check on that.

As we began to date steadily, both Matt and I unknowingly 'convinced' ourselves of our attraction to each other. After a year or so, our relationship was reinforced when we finally met the other's parents and passed their "inspection." Although Matt never really proposed to me, it was assumed by all (especially me) that we'd be married when I graduated, and I wore a small diamond ring (that his mother picked out) as a token of that eventuality.

When I eventually had sex with Matt, it was to consummate our parentally sanctioned relationship – to quench Matt's accumulated lust – and because I thought it was expected of me. In my simplistically brainwashed mind, Matt was my intended and my man, and as such, it was my obligation to cater to him and his physical needs as my Mother did for my Father. Little did I know at the time that living up to the expectations of others would be a life-changing mistake – one that I would come to regret years later.

Matt graduated and went to work with his father while I work to finish my degree in elementary education. He flew back whenever there was a lull in construction, and expected that I'd join him in his hotel room. When I did, I took advance lessons on my "future conjugal duties" by learning and acquiescing to my finance's carnal demands.

You see, my earlier sexual education with Matt was limited to an introductory course in consisting of hot-and-heavy sessions in the back seat of his car before he graduated. I never knew that sex wasn't supposed to be fast with no foreplay other than a few slobbering kiss and crude gropes; rough to the point of his erection being brutally shoved into me; and being content that my man had filled me with his sperm.

My advance lessons involved getting undressed the minute the hotel door closed, spending time on my knees sucking him off, or looking at the ceiling while he labored between my thighs. There was a lot of urgency, a lack of finesse, and sudden releases on Matt's part as I learned how to become the perfect cum-dump for my future husband. I now realize that I never once questioned the absence of sizzling passion, romantic love making, or my own sexual satisfaction.

Just before my graduation, I missed a pill and found myself pregnant. The news was met with shock for while our pre-marital sex was assumed by all, it wasn't openly condoned. Eventually it was reluctantly accepted that Matt would eventually have impregnated me; and there was a big sigh of relief from all when it was discovered that I was carrying a boy. Our wedding was a simple civil affair (no time or need to waste money on niceties was my mother-in-law's sentiments with a baby due). As soon as I received my degree, I went from living a restrictive life with my parents to living another restrictive life with my in-laws on another island.

The next three years were a blur. I quickly discovered that in my in-laws' house, everyone had their own spot in the pecking order. First and foremost, my father-in-law was a gruff man of few words and was responsible for the family's business and income. He worked hard and worried a lot, and dominated the living room from his lazy-boy recliner that was situated in front of the television. He demanded his three beers after work, the evening television news, and the right to fall asleep without being disturbed.

Matt has next on the totem pole. I shared Matt's bedroom and was initially told not change or disrupt his things. After a lot of pleading, he finally made a concession was made in terms of some closet and drawer space for my things. When a clothes rack was begrudgingly added, I was berated about how it made his bedroom seem crowded. Fortunately, Matt had converted what looked like a third bedroom into a study where he had a drawing table for present and future construction projects. He'd played his omnipresent X-box into the late night there except for when he wasn't demanding that his pregnant wife service him in bed.

After my father-in-law and Matt, my mother-in-law dominated the rest of the house and all that it entailed. This sadly included me when I wasn't fetching a beer for her husband or catering to the needs (sexual demands were more like it) of her precious son. She had no qualms voicing her discontent and was largely ignored by her men folks. I, however, was not so lucky. Although pregnant, I quickly learned that my husband wouldn't defend me from his mother's incessant demands or sharp criticism because in his eyes she could do no wrong. Whether I like it or not, I was on the bottom of the family totem pole.

I had hoped that my lot in the house would change with the birth of my son, James. However, I soon discovered that if anything his birth pushed me further down the ladder as James fell right below Matt in terms of importance. My mother-in-law made my life miserable in micro-managing me in every detail about my son's upbringing and expected me to devote my life to her grandson as she had done to her son. This was especially true when it came to breastfeeding.

"Leia, you must pay more attention to the needs of your son," my mother-in-law chided me in no uncertain terms. "You must breastfeed him more so that he will be strong and healthy."

"But, mother," I foolishly replied, "I have nursed James for over a year. He's eating table food now. I constantly expressing my milk to keep my flow going and it supplements his meals and drinks. He needs to start growing up..."

"Baka (stupid)! I know you are college educated but I have the experience and wisdom that you lack. A boy child needs not only a mother's milk but a demonstration of her constant caring for him. When James is fussy and bawls, do not ignore him or try to calm him with mere words. Take him to your breasts so that he may suckle and pacify himself. You don't have big boobies – kind of small in fact – that is why I told you to wear no bra under your house dress. It makes it easier to attend to James when the need arises.

"Hush, silly girl. Don't tell me of how your poor nipples are swollen, raw, and bleeding from his sucking and biting! It is to be expected. Your duty is to care for your son especially when he was teething – no matter how painful it may be to you! That is why you have such large nipples. They are not just for looks, you know. I did it for your husband, and look what a big fine man he is. You must do it for my grandson, you useless woman. Do it!"

To say that my marital life was miserable would have been an understatement. I, however, discovered that I wasn't alone. While cleaning the house one day, I stumbled upon the family's album and uncovered my new family's secret – Len – Matt's younger brother. As the second son, Len was the proverbial black sheep, rebelling against his father's expectations and his mother's controlling efforts. From what I could gather, he was the complete opposite of Matt. Each time I looked at his high school graduation picture, two things immediately struck me – how different he looked from Matt – and – how my breath quickened at the image of this handsome smiling young man.

Although his family did not like to talk much about Len, each shared enough to tell me about this prodigal son. Matt disliked his younger brother because Len was very sociable, generous, and well-like by all (except for his immediate family) with friends ranging from the class leaders to the potential drop outs. I, however, suspected that Matt was jealous of his brother's purported reputation as a lady's man who scored with the most desirable female classmates and was widely rumored to have had an affair with an attractive student-teacher.

My mother-in-law was riled that her youngest son was so resistant, if not rebellious, to her efforts to mold and shape him. Ironically, it was Len's choice in women that resulted in her eldest son being given such rigid girlfriend/spouse parameters into which I sadly fell. Still, Len was her son and as such, had a place in her house. However, to keep peace with her husband and eldest son, Len was consigned to the basement which had its own external entrance. This was fine with Len whom from all accounts converted his half of the cellar in to his own apartment complete with a bathroom and kitchenette.

His father was upset by his wayward son's free-spirit. In his eyes, Len clearly had the engineering aptitude but squandered it by refusing to work for the family's construction business like Matt. Unlike Matt, Len rebelled against a preordained life, and had a knack of making money with which he was extremely frugal. However, Len's business ventures weren't always legal as was made apparent when he was arrested for the promotion of illegal drugs. Through a plea bargain and because of his otherwise clean record, Len was sentenced to a five-year prison term with the possibility of early release and parole.

All this occurred just before I was introduced to Matt's family which explained why I never met Len. Although no one would say so, I gathered that Len was up before the parole board, and that he might be released soon was a source of uneasiness among the family. The more I learned about my mysterious and roguish brother-in-law, the more I found myself drawn to a man whom I had never met.