Athy's Brother

Supper was pretty much a wash. Lydia kept fading in and out, and Jack was off wherever he gets sometimes. Mom tried to keep the conversation going, and I did my best to help, but it was never going anywhere.

Eventually Mom stood up and slammed all the plates together and stalked off to the kitchen. I picked up the glasses and followed her.

She'd gotten all the plates into the sink and rounded on me.

"If you think that's why I work all day and then do my best to put a meal on the table for a bunch of ingrates, then you'd all better think again. Your friend sleeps through it all, your brother apparently couldn't give a damn, and you...well, you..."

"I actually thought the food was pretty good."

Mom stopped her rant and took the time to look at me.

She smiled. "Yeah, it was. I wish they'd enjoyed it, too. I guess it's just you and me, babe."

I took the plates out of the sink and put them into the dish washer.

"I think 'll try to wake Lydia up and walk her home," I said when I was done.

"Good idea," Mom said. "And Jack?"

"If you're pissed off at him, maybe you should talk to him about it. Don't ask me. He's your son."

Mom eyed me a minute, then nodded. "Go on and get Lydia home."

Lydia leaned on my shoulder all the way to her house, but when we got there, she pulled me down onto the front steps. She seemed wide awake when she asked me, "Remember what I said back at your house?"

I did. I just didn't want to.

"It's Jack," she said.

Like I didn't know. "What about him?" I asked her.

"Well, like, what's he doing? Does he have somebody?"

I stood up and looked down at her on the step. "You mean you missed out with Jean-Paul or Jean-Pierre or whoever he was, and now you want to make up for it with my brother?"

She looked away, and then turned back to me.

"Damn it, Kathy. I don't know what I want. I mean, Oh god, I was almost there with Jean-Paul. Did I want to go all the way with him? Absolutely. With every fiber of my being."

Lydia leaned back on her elbows. I was seeing in the moonlight what Jean-Paul had seen in the full sun of a French beach. Whatever the lighting, she was simply breathtaking.

"And so here I am, jet-lagged and all, and I fall asleep in your bed. And I wake up, and this guy, a guy I've known all my life, is leaning over me. And he's not someone I've known all my life Not at all. He's gorgeous, he's whispering my name, and his hand is on my knee, and it feels like fire."

Lydia seemed to have forgotten I was there with her. "I'm suddenly awake and I'm hornier than a cat in heat. I want him to stop whispering and kiss me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Put his hand on me. Not just my knee. Put both his hands on me. All over me."

Lydia blinked a few times, like she was coming out of a trance. She gave me the old smile, the one I'd known since kindergarten.

"Kath?"

"Yeah, Lydia."

"Not too sure what I was talking about just then. Got to get to bed now. We're all Ok, right?"

Sure. Just my best friend dying to fuck my brother, who also happens to be my lover.

"Go to bed, Lydia. It's all OK. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Yeah. Right. Got to go to bed now."

Lydia stumbled inside and the door shut behind her.

I walked off back to my house, seething and plotting.

After a few blocks I became aware of a car following along behind me, it's lights dimmed and never pulling past me. All I needed now, some jerk stalking me. I turned and pointed my finger at the car.

"Get lost, asshole," I shouted.

"Or what, you'll make me take you home?" my father said as he pulled to the curb.

"Jeez, don't scare me like that," I said sliding into the car.

"Sorry about that. And sorry I missed dinner. Again."

"Like we noticed."

Dad winced at that. I thought of a few things I could say to ease the moment, but I just wasn't into it tonight.

When we pulled into the driveway, Dad got out and came around to open my door, like I knew he would. He's such a sweetie, and I realized it wasn't him I was mad at. I climbed out of the car and put my arms around his neck, pulling him close.

"You might be in trouble in there," I whispered in his ear.

He wrapped me closer. "I know," he whispered back. "What do you think I should do about it?"

I pulled away and looked him over. "You know, you're a pretty good-looking guy." He was smiling now. "Maybe if you just rush in and sweep her off her feet."

"Ah, plan B," he said.

"And what was plan A?"

"Something along the lines of abject apology and groveling at her feet."

We were both trying to stifle our giggles. "I think you'd better stick with plan B," I told him. "Although the groveling at her feet might work if that's only where you're starting."

Dad shot me a look. "I think you may be wiser than you years, Kathy. Wish me luck." He turned and went into the house.

I leaned against the still warm fender of his car and considered my own plans. After a few minutes I marched inside, straight up to Jack's room.

"Did Mom talk to you?"

He looked up at me from his computer screen. "Yeah, something about me pulling my weight around here. She can get pretty bitchy sometimes."

I walked over to his desk. "We all can," I said.

Jack spun his chair so that he was looking directly up at me.

"Huh?"

"Women," I told him. "We all get bitchy when we think the men in our lives are fucking us over."

Jack looked clueless. "Fuck, Jack! " I exploded. "Do I really have to explain it to you? Look at Mom and Dad. Why do you think she's so pissed at him?" I was getting myself all worked up. "Why do you think she's so pissed at you?"

"I don't know. That's just the way she gets sometimes."

"Of course you know. She's pissed at Dad because he's never here. Nothing we can do about that. It's something they'll have to work out on their own. But she's looking at you to fill some of the slack. You know, help her get the groceries out of the car, light the barbeque. That sort of thing. Maybe even talk to us at the dinner table."

"Okay," Jack said. "Okay. I can get behind that. I've been lame here. Nothing I can do to fix it, but I promise I'll try harder."

He smiled up at me standing over him and put his hands on my hips. "Meanwhile," he said, leaning in and kissing me just below my navel. I was melting, dying for him to go further. But I slapped his hands away and pushed him back into his chair.

"God damn it! Would you just cut it out? It's always the same with you. You fuck up and then you think a smile and a kiss will fix it all."

Jack was visibly shocked. "Hey. I said I'd try to do better. What's got into you all of a sudden?"

"What's got into me?" I shouted. Even as pissed off as I was, I realized I had to keep my voice down with our parents right down the hall. "Didn't I just tell you women get bitchy when we think our men are fucking us over?" I hissed.

"Well, yeah. But that was about Mom and me. Right?"

"A little," I bit back at him.

Jack shook his head like flies were buzzing around it. Then he looked up at me and asked, "What am I not getting here?"

I put my hands on my hips and leaned over him. "Let me tell you something. Right now I really couldn't care less about your problems with Mom."

"But you said..."

"No, you just weren't listening. It was about women getting fucked over by their men."

"Oh, man. Sorry, Kathy, but I'm lost here."

"OK, then, I'll tell it to you straight up, Jack. There's no way I'm going to just stand by and watch you getting together with another woman. Not even my best friend. Especially not my best friend."

"What???"

"Oh, get off it, Jack. She told me all about it. You all over her. Your hand on her leg. 'Kiss me, Jack. Kiss me everywhere, Jack. Oh, both hands, Jack. Both hands all over me, Jack.' I thought she was going to come just telling me about it."

Jack was usually a model of imperturbability, even indifference, but now he was slack-jawed, slumped back in his chair.

"She told you that?"

"Almost word for word."

I could see him fighting for composure. After a minute he sat up. "Can I tell you what really happened?"

"Why, of course, Jack. I'm dying to hear all about it."

Jack ignored my sarcasm and went on.

"You and Mom were making supper. I was hanging on the deck, watching the sun go down. I went upstairs to get my Ipod. When I came out of my room I saw your door open and went in."

A sheepish look crossed his face. "I do that a lot when I know you're not around. Sometimes I lie in your bed, just taking in all your scents. Sometimes I look through your closet, or your drawers, seeing the clothes you've worn and remembering how you looked in them. Sometimes I..."

Jack blushed.

"Well, whatever. Today Lydia was lying there in your bed. And she didn't belong there. You belong there. And I belong there. With you. Nobody else."

He heaved a deep breath.

"So I went over and sat beside her and told her it was time for supper. I didn't know if it was yet, but I guess I just wanted her out of there."

Jack looked into my eyes. "That's all there was. Whatever she says. Really. That's all."

I had to turn away then. It's hard to shift emotions quickly, and I had to be certain what mine were. When I turned back to Jack, I pulled up my shirt and said, "I think you were kissing me here."

Jack's relief was palpable. But he got over it, tugging me to him. Oh, god, the fire again. I held his head to my stomach, feeling lightning flick through me.

"Oh, wait. Wait," I thought. "There's still one thing I wanted to tell you."

Jack licked his way up to the bottom of my left breast. I pulled my shirt higher.

"Please. Oh, please. Lick my nipple. Take it between your lips. Suck it. Please." I'm not sure I said any of that, but it didn't matter. Jack was doing it anyway.

There was a lot of moaning going on. At some point I pulled myself away from him and got him out of the chair and onto his back on his bed. Once I'd got his pants and underwear off, I just watched his cock, throbbing and bobbing against his stomach.

"Jack," I said, wrapping my hand loosely around his cock. Oh, jesus. He was so hard, so alive. I so much wanted to be in control, but the pounding in my palm made me wonder if I could find the words before I died.

"Jack," I said again, trying to ignore the pulsations in my hand, in my heart, between my thighs. He looked up at me. His eyes were tiny slits.

"Yeah, Kath."

I wanted to tell him why women get pissed off at men. How they need to know they're the only one; how they need to be needed; how they have to know for absolute certain that when they even think you're ogling their best friend, you'll be coming back home.

I wanted to tell Jack all about that. I wanted to say, "Listen. She's beautiful. Why wouldn't you want to?" and believe I meant it.

I didn't say any of that stuff. I just held him more firmly in my hand and looked down at him. And I finally got out the words I guess I'd been meaning to say all along.

"See this?" I asked. His eyes followed mine to where he was wrapped in my palm. I gave him a little squeeze and a tug. "See?"

Jack moaned and nodded his head, but I wasn't finished yet. I'd gotten myself a little under control, and if I wasn't going to tell him everything that was in my head, I was going to make him understand one thing.

"Listen up, dude." I held him loosely and hovered over him. I couldn't help it; I had to feel him. I sank down so he was just inside me. But I held him there.

I held him there until his eyes opened and looked up into mine.

"You know what I'm talking about" I asked him.

"Oh, god. No. No idea." He put his hands on my hips and tried to force me down onto him. I could feel my eyes drooping shut, my head lolling back on my neck, my hips sinking, wanting maybe even more than him to feel that perfect moment when he was so deep inside me that nothing else mattered any more.

But there were more important things at play here, and I pulled myself back from the brink. Literally. I backed off of him until I was once again holding him between my fingers.

"It's like this," I told him. "There's you and me."

I held him tight, marveling at the strength I felt in my hands. "Uh, OK," he replied, squirming under my touch.

"And there's the whole rest of the world. There are going to be a whole lot of pretty girls at school next year. But you're not even going to look at them. You know why?"

"Because you're the most beautiful and sexy girl I ever met?" Jack answered. "Because I'm so crazy about you I won't even notice them?"

And I thought I was supposed to be in control of this conversation. It was absolutely supposed to be about how he was mine. How I owned him. How every inch of him, the first of which were now finding their way finding their way into me as I sat on him, belonged to me. Only to me.

I bent down to kiss him. And he rose up into me, and there it was. The most perfect union.

Later, after I'd got Jack safely into his bed and was lying in my own, I thought about Lydia. About Jack. About Lydia and Jack and me. About Jean-Paul. About how much she wanted it.

I'd talk to Lydia tomorrow. She was my best friend. We'd talk tomorrow.