LarryInSeattle provide editing services. I had to make a timeline change. Any errors that remain or my own. All characters are over 18.
Sorry for the long delay, assuming anyone has been pining away, wondering what will become of Donna and her twin brothers. If the reader chooses to forgo the first two chapters allow me to offer a brief synopsis.
Donna, a new college graduate has joined her twin brothers at the family's old cabin on a lake. The twins have some type of twin-twin telepathy. Donna discovers them blowing each other. They insist they are not gay, just very close. She joins them. Later she freaks out over what they have done. Running out of the house she slips and hits her head. She flees to the porch swing and hides her head, as Gary, the oldest twin, rocks the swing with his foot.
There is very little action in this chapter. It primarily moves the story forward and introduces some new characters.
I hope you enjoy. And as always, helpful criticism is not only welcome but craved.
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The chair is killing my ass. I make a mental note to router the wooden edge of the seat. I scoot back, not too worried about splinters, I sanded and painted the chair myself and I'm something of a perfectionist. I rest one foot on the edge of the porch swing and resume rocking the swing.
Donna has not moved since looking up long enough to give me the evil eye. Her arms are wrapped around her knees; her forehead rests atop them. Thank God she has stopped crying. The way she is sitting I can't see if her hip or her head is starting to swell or turn black and blue. I cringe, remembering the sound her head made hitting the floor. Jesus.
I was expecting a meltdown at some point. Forget Bible belt Texas, incest is as close to a universal taboo as one can get. Even our atheist libertarian parents couldn't soften that blow much. Personally, I think Ayn Rand was an obnoxious nympho cunt who would have fucked anything with a dick whether or not the person the dick was attached to was related to her or not. It certainly hadn't matter to her if the dick was married or not, as long as the dick worshipped her. It would be great if the old man were still around to debate the point.
Thinking about pop only makes me sad. I don't need that on top of worrying about my sister. Her breathing is slow and even and I wonder if she has fallen asleep. Her reaction shouldn't have surprised us. Donna has never been one to do anything by halves. Despite the situation, I can't help smiling as I remember her in action last night and this morning. If Donna is going to fuck, by God she fucks. On the other hand if she's going to have a meltdown, you better grab a hold of something and hang on for dear life.
The rusty spring on the screen door squeals and I remind myself to oil that damn spring. Over my shoulder I see Terry struggling to carry three mugs of coffee without sloshing the scalding blackness over his hands. I stretch one arm behind me and take one of the mugs and nearly drop the damn thing. I hiss as I fumble the mug around to get ahold of the handle. Very carefully, fully aware of how much worse I'll hiss if I spill coffee on my belly or dick, I set the mug down on the arm of the chair.
Not once have I stopped rocking the porch swing with my foot.
Terry sits on the porch railing. He puts one of the mugs on the railing and blows over the top of the other. He tips his head at our huddled sister as he takes a tentative sip of coffee and grimaces, whether at the taste or the temperature is unclear.
"How is she?"
I shrug. "Sleeping I think,"
Terry frowns. "Is that a good idea? Aren't you suppose to keep people awake after they get whacked on the head?"
I take my foot off the swing and sit up in the chair. "How the fuck should I know? She's the pre-med student. I'm a stupid fucking lawyer."
As I speak Terry stands and steps toward the swing. He touches Donna's shoulder. "Donna? Hey sis, want some coffee."
She does not respond.
I haul myself out of the chair and join him. I jostle her shoulder, less gently than Terry has. "Donna? Hey wake up kiddo? Are you alright?"
There's no response. I don't need to look at Terry to know his worry is rocketing skyward as quickly as my own.
We both shake her this time. We both shout, "Donna, hey Donna wake up!"
When I lift her chin with my fingers her head lolls back. Her eyes are closed. The flesh around her left eye is red and swollen. I hear Terry murmur, "oh fuck". I open her left eye. The pupil shrinks down. I thought I remember hearing that is a good sign.
I smack her cheek, not hard but not gently either. "Donna, goddamn it wake up."
"Let me sleep." Her voice is soft, almost inaudible and slurred. She sounds drunk. That does it.
Terry turns without a word and sprints for the door. He's back in few minutes, dressed in jeans, tee shirt and flip-flops. Donna's robe flutters in his arms, under it are my clothes. I dress quickly while he slips Donna's arms into the robe.
"Come on sis, stand up," he urges, tugging her to her feet. She mumbles incoherent protests but she can almost stand on her own.
As if she is in fact drunk, we each take an arm and half-carry her down the steps in the classic Christ on the Cross position. Her legs seem to understand they are supposed to be doing something but can't quite manage to figure out what, exactly, it is they should be doing.
Terry opens the back door of our crew cab truck and scoots in. I hand Donna in to him. As we settle her she says very clearly, "Mom we never go to church, let me sleep."
I stare at her until my brother snaps, "Gary let's fucking go."
It is forty minutes to a town with a hospital, but it's a good size hospital. My brother and I take turns hectoring her, keeping her muttering demands to be left alone. I push our old Ford as fast as I dare without risking it bouncing to pieces on the potholed county roads.
After what feels like an eternity, I skid to a halt in front of the emergency room doors and hop out. A nurse is hustling through the automatic doors before I get all the way around the truck.
"My sister fell and hit her head. She's acting all out of it." I shout as I change course and head back to the truck. The nurse waves at someone behind her and by the time Terry and I are easing Donna out of the back seat, the nurse and two orderlies arrive with a gurney.
"You sure her neck is okay?" The nursed snaps without looking at me. She is gently opening first one eye and then the other. She frowns as her fingers probe the swelling around the eye. Her left hand holds Donna's head up by the chin
"I think so. She was walking around after she fell then got really sleepy. She landed hard on her left hip and really cracked her head. She didn't say anything about her neck hurting."
"Hold her steady a second," one of the orderlies requests in a soft east Texas drawl. He positions a plastic collar around Donna's neck. When he's done the nurse nods her head in satisfaction and steps back.
