"I still can't believe she's gone," said Bina, as they stared at the old, two floor house.
"I know," said Chaim, walking up the steps that creaked beneath their feet. "Even though you know that she lived a long productive life, it's always too soon."
They stepped into the entryway, Bubby Povitz's flowers standing guard as always by the door in their pots, but they seemed a little droopy now that their nurturer was gone.
"I grew up in this place," Said Bina. "before my parents divorced, I spent practically every Shabbos here." She began packing dishes into the boxes they had come with. "Even after Ma married your father, I still kept up the connection with my Birth father's mom, she was the warmest, most intuitive person I've ever known."
Chaim grabbed a box and began helping Bina. "The eulogies did not do her justice. Such a nice person."
"I agree" said Bina. "and you're nice too, for offering to help me pack up her things, Now let's get to work."
"She was like a second mother to me, always there with a warm meal and a listening ear. I took my parent's divorce very hard, especially at the beginning, when my father was abusing Ma and I. I used to always escape to her house when they fought...and she'd let me stay as long as I needed, even when it meant I missed school. She'd always say, 'Bina, my dear, life is a journey, and sometimes you need to take a detour.'"
Bina continued reminiscing, sitting down on the living room couch. "She accepted your father too, even though he was marrying her son's ex and was taking her grandchild along with him. She was just a larger than life person, it's just so hard to believe she's not here anymore," Bina said, her voice trembling as she began to cry. She looked at Chaim, her eyes welling up with tears. "I need a hug, Chaim. I need to feel something warm and real right now."
Chaim put down the box he was holding and walked over to Bina. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her body shake with sobs. "It's okay, Bina," he murmured, his voice gentle. "I'm here. Let it out."
Bina buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. Chaim held her tightly, feeling a strange mix of guilt and comfort. He knew what they were doing was wrong, she was his step sister after all, and as an Orthodox Jew, he was forbidden to touch her as she was not a blood relative, but he really felt bad for Bina and saw she needed it.
"She loved you, you know," said Chaim "Always talking about how smart you were, how you'd go far in life."
Bina smiled sadly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "She was biased, but I appreciate it. I miss her already."
Bina's voice was soft, barely above a whisper. She looked up at Chaim, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know what I'm going to do without her."
Bina sniffled, pulling away from Chaim's embrace. She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry all over you."
Chaim smiled softly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "It's okay, Bina. I'm here for you. That's what family is for, right?"
Bina moved over on the couch to give Chaim space. "Still, I shouldn't have asked you to hug me...I... I don't know what I was thinking. It is assur (Hebrew for forbidden) and inappropriate. I'm so sorry."
"We are family though, I mean...sorta" Chaim said. "But I understand what you're saying, I'm sorry." He remained on the couch though, leaving a respectful amount of space between Bina's back and his arm draped on the couch behind her.
"It was really nice of dad and mom to basically adopt her as an honorary grandmother after my father went to prison," said Bina. "The fact that they turned their entire first floor into an apartment for her was above and beyond."
"Are they both going to Israel to bury her there?" asked Chaim.
"Yes," said Bina. "They'll be back in a few days, but that means we'll have to behave and not fight like cats and dogs while we're alone in the house."
Chaim smiled at the line, remembering how their parents had admonished them with it when they had first blended the families together. Chaim had been 11 and Bina was 10, and they got along like fire and water. It had taken a good few years before they started acting civil to each other, and now they were as inseparable as siblings could be in their society.
"Well if you hog the shower for the entire evening, or the phone line, I'm going to tell mommy" he teased.
"Oh please!" Bina snorted, "Like you'd be able to use the phone when you probably still spend half a day reading magazines in the bathroom!"
He bopped her with a throw pillow, and, mood lightened, they finished the task of cleaning the house...
--
That night, Chaim woke up to the sound of Bina's voice.
"Chaim... I need you," Bina's voice trembled in the darkness, Oh Chaim!" he quickly rushed toward her room to see what the issue was, but when he opened the door, he froze.
Bina was lying on her bed, her nightgown hiked up past her waist. One hand was buried between her legs, her fingers moving rhythmically over her swollen clit, while the other rested on her breast, her fingers teasing her nipple through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as she let out soft, breathy moans.
Chaim stood frozen in the doorway, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the sight of her. She looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, and his body responded immediately, his cock hardening at the sight of her. He felt a surge of heat coil low in his stomach, his breath catching in his throat as he watched her fingers move over her pussy, the sounds of her pleasure filling the room.
"Chaim..." She jolted upright, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. She yanked the hem of her nightgown down, her cheeks flushed crimson.
"Chaim! I--I didn't hear you come in," she stammered, her voice shaky.
He took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest.. "I'm sorry. I--I heard you calling me. I thought you needed something."
"I wasn't calling you," she said quickly, avoiding his gaze. "It's fine. You can go."
He nodded, his throat dry, and turned to leave. But her voice stopped him once more.
"Wait, Chaim."
He paused, his back to her, gripping the door frame for support. "Yes?"
"I... I just need someone right now. It's been so hard since Bubby passed. I miss her so much." Her voice cracked, and he could hear the tears threatening to spill.
He turned back to her, his expression softening. "I miss her too," he said gently. "But you know we can't... I mean, it's not proper for us to... touch."
She nodded, wiping at her eyes. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked for that hug earlier. It's just... you're the only one here who understands."
He hesitated, then stepped closer, keeping a respectful distance. "It's okay. We're family, even if not by blood. I'll always be here for you."
She gave him a small, grateful smile, but there was something else in her eyes--something that made his pulse quicken. He cleared his throat and quickly retreated to his own room, closing the door behind him.
---
Hours later, he was still awake, unable to shake the image of her from his mind. He replayed the scene from earlier in his head. He couldn't shake the image of Bina--her nightgown hiked up, her fingers moving over herself, the soft moans escaping her lips.
She wasn't petite and skinny, she was no size zero. But her curves were something he found himself drawn to. Her hips were full, her waist dipping in just enough to make his hands itch to slide along her sides, tracing the softness of her skin. He imagined what it would feel like to give her a massage, his hands moving over her back, kneading the tension out of her muscles. She would sigh, her body relaxing under his touch, and he could almost hear her whispered gratitude.
She had grown up so much since they had first met. Back then, she had been a tomboyish girl, all awkward angles and sharp words. But now? Now she was gorgeous. Her cheekbones were high, her lips full and inviting. Her eyes, always so expressive, seemed to hold a depth that he hadn't noticed before. She had matured into a woman--smart, thoughtful, and utterly captivating.
He thought back to when they were younger, when he had first developed a crush on her. It had been innocent then, a fleeting thought that he had quickly buried under layers of denial and fighting. "She's your step sister," he had told himself, even though they weren't related by blood. He had told himself always that he liked her as a sister and because she was smart. But now, lying in the dark, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss her, to feel her lips against his, to explore the curves of her body with his hands. The idea was intoxicating, and he felt a pang of guilt for even entertaining it.
