While I was working on a darker story for a different category at Lit, I hit a wall. Being stumped, yet still wanting to write, I switched gears and decided to write this. It's a flash story and late for the intended holiday, or it's early for the next year.
*****
I like the holidays and I hate the holidays. Holidays in my world mean being around extended family. That's the good part. That's also the bad part. My wife Nancy and I both have families that really make Christmas a big deal. Her parents and my parents always use their respective places as the designated gathering. Both sets of parents want us there every year. Like intelligent people, Nancy and I alternate where we spend that time.
This year, Nancy and I spent the holidays at my folks' place. One advantage of spending time at the home of my parents, is there are plenty of bedrooms. They'd had four children and should have had the wisdom to stop at three. After all, once you've achieved perfection, why continue? Not as wise as I am, my folks produced my younger brother Brian. They stopped after that, clearly seeing the error of their ways. Another advantage; they lived in Estes Park, Colorado. Nancy's parents lived in "Bumfuck," Maine. There's a reason Stephen King's horror stories set in Maine resonate. That state is fucked up. Estes Park, Colorado on the other hand, is what most people want the rest of the world to be.
My other siblings had suggested our parents downsize, I was the only one who discouraged it. As I told Mom and Dad, "Don't sell my inheritance for the comfort of not having to dust. That would be selfish."
The upside of them listening to my wisdom, is they usually always had plenty of room at family gatherings. Jennifer "the hot sister," Shannon "the smart sister," as well as their spouses and spawn couldn't come this year. The sisters were spending the holidays this year with their husbands' families. It was rare we were all together at the same time during the holidays. Just like Nancy and I, they switched every other year to spend time with the ball and chains' parental units.
This year it was Nancy and me. Brian and his wife, "No tits" April. Then there were our respective kids. The good ones, Jason and Judy, belong to me and Nancy. The other ones, Todd and Cameron, were proof that my gayish younger brother could get it up with a woman at least twice to produce two kids.
I am kidding a bit. Brian always had a sensitive side. He worked for HDK Greeting Cards. They made their bread and butter on the holidays, but particularly on Valentine's Day. They put out cards that had a bit of snark in them, but also had heart.
Brian was a whiz at writing pithy greetings that sold well. I admired him. I let him know that as often as I could by praising the fact he had made a living writing "fag cuck shit." As his older brother, I had given him a "purple nurple" from time to time. Clearly he'd taken the lesson to heart. At some point he made a commitment to a gym and never stopped. He was buff now. Really buff. I'd told him recently, "You look good. If you were a man, I'd so fuck you."
We unwrapped the presents on Christmas. We then spent the next few days going off with the groups we were most comfortable with. It was rare during those days before New Year's Eve that all of us would be together. The kids hung out with the kids, the women hung out with the women, the men hung out with the men. A typical holiday at the parent's place. No sex at all. If sex was on the table, a hotel would have been where we stayed. Or so I thought.
It was December 31
st
when Brian caught me alone and said to me, "Hey Danny, I could use your advice."
He was serious, and I always had considered myself to be a mentor to him.
"Sure Brian, what's troubling you?"
"I've been seeing this woman, but she keeps comparing me to the guy she's with."
I hadn't realized Brian was fooling around on April. I knew he'd had difficulties with her in the bedroom, but I didn't know until that moment he'd outsourced the puss puss. It must have been worse than I thought.
"Who is the woman?"
He looked at me like I was crazy.
"Are you fucking with me? It's Nancy."
I punched him. I've never punched my brother, or really anybody. My preferred weapon was sarcasm. My hand hurt like hell. I wish I'd knocked him out. He just seemed irate.
"What the fuck did you do that for?"
"For fucking Nancy!"
"You
suggested
I fuck Nancy!"
"I did WHAT?! And I did the WHAT... WHEN?!"
"When I told you April didn't seem to like sex as often as she used to, you told me, and I quote, 'You should fuck Nancy, she needs way more than I can give her.'"
I was ready to punch him again, but my hand still hurt and I'm not good with my left. "You imbecile! Did you really think I meant I was getting sex all the time from Nancy? That was sarcasm. That was me commiserating with you. It happens in a marriage. You took that literally?"
Brian didn't respond immediately. He looked at me as if he was trying to figure out just what had happened. It was a look of innocence.
"You seemed so sincere." He paused. "Damn."
I don't like using the word "gobsmacked," because it has suspicious foreign and effeminate roots, but that was the only word that came to mind. I massaged my hand while making sure Brian didn't see me doing it, "So this woman you want my advice for, is my wife?"
"I just thought you'd know her best. Sorry I brought it up. I apparently misread the situation. I was distraught, because she hit my masculinity as a lover by comparing me to you, after you told me you weren't enough for her. I see the situation better now. Also, don't hit me again. It took all I had not to retaliate and destroy your face. What stopped me was my respect for you as my older brother and the fact that I may have inadvertently transgressed."
There was silence for what seemed like an eternity, or watching a bad episode of Star Trek.
Brian broke the silence by saying, "Well. Should I break it off with Nancy, or do you want to talk to her first?"
I tried to kick him, but this time he just grabbed my foot and I wound up on the floor. Now my foot and back hurt as well. I really should have injured him when he was younger, while I had superior strength so this scenario would have been possible.
He said, "I think you should talk to Nancy. Also the next time you try to punch or kick me, I'm going to punch or kick back."
I went to talk to Nancy. I gave her the signal that I needed to talk to her alone. We went into my old bedroom. Mom and Dad always assigned the kids their old rooms, if they were there.
"Nancy, I can't believe you cheated on me."
"What? You encouraged me to do it."
"When? When did I ever do that?"
"Dan I told you once when you asked why I didn't get off, that I couldn't explain why I wasn't feeling it. Do remember what you said?"
"I'm sure I said something humorous to let you know it was okay."
"Dan, you told me that I should find a therapist or another lover, then come back to you when I figured it out. Why are you holding your hand? Did you injure it?"
I ignored the last part and quit massaging my right hand. "Let me guess, you didn't choose a therapist?"
Nancy looked at me like I was high. "After all the things you said about therapists? I suggested marriage counseling a few times over the years, and do you remember what you said?"
Of course I did. "It's the same thing I'd say now. Why should we pay someone to tell our secrets to, when so many people are willing to hear them for free? As a bonus, the people who hear it for free also give advice, whether you ask for it or not."
"So why would I consider a therapist, knowing how little disregard you had for that opinion?"
"So you took a lover?! Gee Nancy, you might have mentioned that you were going to before just doing it."
Nancy's mouth just hung open for a moment. Then her lips started working again, "I
did
ask you if I should take a lover. You didn't even hesitate before replying."
"What exactly did I say to make you feel this was okay?"
"Dan, you told me to bring home my snatch full of cum so you could suck it out. You said that's how you could take the power of my lovers. I didn't feel it was 'okay.' I thought you were giving me guidance."
I felt fruitcake and eggnog previously consumed, about to make an exit from my mouth. The only thing that held it back was my certainty that fruitcake had to taste worse going out than going in.
"You took that seriously?
"Oh my God, I hated feeling dirty keeping another man's spunk inside me. I only did it for you. I wanted you to become more powerful. I fucked even more people than I wanted to; disgusting, despicable people, just to help you achieve your goal. I put myself at risk of disease to do that. I did try to be careful in choosing partners, but I had nearly 30 one-night stands just so I could come home with a cunt full of cum for you."
I stormed out of the room. This was unbelievable. I avoided everyone else and went to the back porch to cool off. I was seething for a few minutes when Mom joined me.
She said, "You seem troubled. Is there something going on?"
