"Hey little brother, this is a good thing. We are starting a new life in West Liberty. Don't feel bad about the broken cup in the kitchen. The doctor said it would take time... months or a year... for both of us."
Sandra, the blond around twenty years old, put her arms around Randalf, the slightly younger looking, black hair man. She snuggled her chest around the side of his body to cover as much surface on him as she could. Randalf sat with his hands around his knees on the stoop, a thin line of red running down his right hand and his gaze focused on the distance.
The Nimbus clouds hang low, blocking the sunlight. The drab light made the red brick houses spread in between green bushes and trees look demure. A few smokestacks of dead coal factories stuck out like tall fingers among the trees. The city pretty quickly ran out and was taken over by tree covered rolling hills. There was a sense of finality like this was one end of the world with not much more happening. The siblings gazed in silence with Sandra breathing on Randalf's cheek.
"Why wouldn't dad listen? I told him numerous times that the squeak from his break wasn't dust. The brake pads were worn. His old buddy mechanic scammed him. I told him how to check the wear indicator. He kept saying that I don't understand. Why would he not listen when all he had to do was bend over to look at the wear indicator? It was so clear."
Randalf hissed angrily. He pressed his teeth together. The anger made his eyes look ugly. His breathing was short, hard, and shallow. His body was shaking. Sandra eased up her embrace with worried eyes cautiously shifting away from leaning on him.
"He's gotten old. He wasn't always like that. You remember that. During the last half year, he quickly grew old. 65 is an old man. I remember it like one day, I was his little girl that he spun by my hands through the air. He was a respective executive. Another day I woke up and found him arguing with the mail carrier. It's hard for me to understand either."
Sandra pulled a lock of Randalf from his forehead back to the rest of his hair in a cozy gesture. She was 5' 5" and had a round body type, not fat at all. Yet, her hips were round and feminine. Her boobs were full. Her cheeks were warm and friendly. The estrogen was visible in her feminine face, the fluidity of her motions, and the sparkle in her voice even when she talked calmly and seriously. She wore a True Religion jeans that accentuated the fill of her butt and a sexy Guess jacket.
"I was so angry at him. I yelled at him because he kept interrupting me. He drove me mad when he said that he understood and got into the car anyway. I wanted to yank him by both arms but I kept my rage back. Never lay a finger on anyway. If I had, he were still alive. If I had, it would have broken our relationship. How can doing the wrong thing be the right thing and still be wrong?"
Tears welled up in Randalf's eyes. His cheeks rouged. His face was rather small, especially because the black shock of unkempt hair was so big in contrast. His stature was small with 5' 2". One may easily mistake him for unimportant. The jeans was worn with holes. The sweatshirt had faded from a hundred wash cycles. The Doc Marten's twisted on the grass that was growing in the gap between the stone plates of the foot path to the stoop.
"I love you. I'm here for you. Say, you'll stay with me and try. Just stay. One day, we'll find peace. We've only got each other. I need you to get through our parent's death. I can't do it alone."
Sandra kissed Randalf on the cheek in wet effluence of warmth and moisture. Her hands pulled him in tight like she was holding onto his core. She pressed her belly and chest onto his side. Her chin was on his shoulder. He sat stiff like a rock letting her be the sea crashing onto him.
"Okay. I'll pull myself together. I might screw my life badly if I don't show up on my first day at the new college."
Randalf roused to his feet and unwrapped Sandra's embrace. He walked back inside of the house, the little two bedroom furnished only by a dining table with two chairs. The red porcelain coffee cup had a cutesy slogan: "How do I like my coffee? Handed to me!" Now, it was pulverized into little white pieces with a mostly intact handle. Next to it was a brownbag with a message in feminine writing that had big loops in the letters: "For my best brother - XOXO"
He reached out to grab the bag. The bag lifted for a moment into the air to slip out of his limp fingers and roll on the floor. With slumped shoulders, Randalf looked at it dejected for a good ten seconds. Then he walked out of the door.
The footpath of moss covered stone plates led across a lawn of unkempt clothes and a clothing line spider with dirty gray drying lines that were partially torn or at least very saggy. The low density street had sparse cars parked. As he walked, he started gaining more momentum and pep. A mailman with a savannah hat pushed the mail stroller past him. A few fat crows were watching him from a yellow birch tree. He muttered to himself: "A birch tree forest is so magical that evil cannot prevail in man's heart."
After a twenty minute walk, he walked down the stairs for a tunnel under the road. On the other side he emerged on a grassy square with benches and trees. The college buildings, two stories high with outside walkways running around them, lined the central square. The blue classroom doors opened directly to the outside. The buildings had big signs with a letter from the beginning of the alphabet. He looked at the dog-eared slip in his hand: A205. He looked to the building to his left with the letter A on it and scanned with his eyes left to right along the balcony walkway until his eyes rested on the blue door with the room number 205.
On the way up the stairs, he passed students in wheat-colored Timberland boots and big working-man type jackets. Checkered flannel timber shirts were in fashion. Girls wore jeans. Guys had short hair. There were a few ROTC camouflage pants, including a few girl pants. There was one guy who had a little pink in an urban design t-shirt.
He carefully opened the door to his new classroom. Everyone was already seated. The teacher, a tall skinny, white haired man in a suit with bright, casual colors, prepared the blackboard with white chalk marks. Randalf inhaled the soft, powdery, velvety smell of fresh chalk and stood in the doorframe. Five pairs of eyes out of the twenty something turned to seize him up. Randalf remained standing and looked at the teacher. He cleared his throat in a quiet nervous way, not so much to get attention. The teacher turned to face Randalf
"Ah, you must be Randalf, the young man who is going to join us mid semester. The principal has told me about your special circumstances. Have a seat next to Tricia!"
In the right front row were four chair-desk combinations. Three were occupied by skinny girls in cheerleader uniform - white sneakers, short black skirt, and a blue & white top with a deep V in the front. They had long hair and their hair neatly put together and smoothed with product. The hair looked moist, vibrant, and strong. The lips were bright red and pink as each had her own color. The cheeks were rouged to create a cheery expression even though, underneath the real look a stern appraising look could be seen at close distance.
