There are some gaps included in the narrative of certain situations and instances in the story, which is intentional. All characters are above 18 years of age and there is no implication of any of the characters or situations in the book to any real person, place or thing. Any similarity is purely coincidental. This is a work of fictional literature and should be enjoyed in the same light.
Some parts in the story depict moments of sexual nature and could be considered taboo in certain countries/cultures due to its storyline. The reader is advised to use their discretion.
*****
Everyone was finished for the day and our parents had settled in front of the TV and were deciding to sleep early. My dad was beat after working all day. My mom had been busy in the kitchen making a wonderful meal after she had come home from work. Since mom had started working part-time, she said she never got a chance to cook us meals anymore and she missed that. That day, she had finished early so had time to cook. We were all waiting for Sam to get home. Earlier that afternoon, she had gone out with a friend but was expected any minute.
~**~
Sam and I, Alex, were fraternal twins - she was born minutes after me so she always called me 'bb' (short for big bro) and I used to tease her as 'baby'. Since we were fraternal twins, there were inherited similarities derived from the common genealogy for both of us. Although this was true in essence, we grew up to realise the differences - we had slightly different physique and body structure. We also had slightly different temperaments.
I was a typical male - big-boned, physical, and single minded while she was a typical female - slender, sensual and very creative and artistic. I am not stereotyping but I had recognised the differences between us far earlier than the similarities. As such, we did look different although I had heard people claim to spot our parents in our looks.
Although we were fraternal twins and as such there were few similarities between us, genetically, we often felt a connection between the two of us. She had reciprocated this just the same, as usual. Over the years, our parents, Stuart and Beverly, had simply come to accept it to be sibling love. For them it was good in one sense - we never fought with each other.
Sam had always been excellent at reciprocating my feelings. There was seldom a time when I had to elaborate anything to her - I guess you could attribute it to our 'link', of being twins. We understood each other implicitly. I always felt complete in her company and presence and so did she. We also found out that for some reason we missed each other when we were apart for long. A week had come to be long enough for us to go without seeing each other.
When we were growing up as kids, I do remember the very first few times when we had gone on separate school trips and by the time we had got back, we both had been 'miserable'. We had run into each other's arms when we had got back. After a few failed attempts, even the teachers had recommended our parents to just let us be together until we 'grew up' and 'grew out of it'. They just thought it was very sweet.
We grew up for sure but over the years, we just got closer and more comfortable with each other. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that we have been very different from other siblings - instead of fight, argue and bicker, we cared, collaborated and co-operated with each other all the time.
We had our 'tussles' occasionally but it was all a guise for a tease and to enjoy some closeness. She loved to tease me and over the years, she had sussed out some of my 'weaknesses'. I knew one of her biggest weakness - she was very ticklish. I used that as my personal defence shield when I needed to. Nonetheless, one rule, out of just a few in our house, laid down by my mom very early on was that under no circumstance was I allowed to physically hurt or hit Sam. I was meant to look after her well-being and likewise no matter what, she was supposed to respect my cautions and advice as an older brother.
I guess that was never really a bother because not only was I protective of her, I would always look out for her and likewise she always looked up to me for advice and guidance. We had developed a secret code for communicating urgency and we used those key words and cues at times. This always made me feel warm inside because no one knew the codes and no matter how many times others had tried, we had not divulged it to anyone. There was an unspoken language between us and we seemed to read each other's minds through our expressions, body language and glances.
We never really needed 'best friend' while we were growing up because we were very close. In fact we had developed such closeness and trust between us, we considered ourselves as best-buds. It used to be difficult to write essays in primary school about our sibling when we were very young kids. I used to see her as my other half, my best buddy, my soul-mate. For a long while when I was growing up, I thought 'sister' was just an 'official' name for such a person. In my mind, she was my life. Apparently, the same applied for her.
Over the years, we had developed the unspoken and implied restraint from divulging anything we shared between us - she and I never told anyone about what we spoke and did between us, not even to our parents. The secrecy sustained a rather unusual non-verbal intimacy between us and it provided the trust that made us both feel very confident together.
We grew up relying on each other and my mom always said how lucky she felt that she never had to worry about us growing up - we grew up without an urgent need for being looked-after. While we were growing up, mom had stayed home taking care of us and being a perfect homemaker. Therefore, it was a relief to her when we took care of each other and she did not had to watch our every move.
Apparently, when we were toddlers, we had been known to place dummies into each other's mouths, as kids we held the bottle for each other and even slept in a hug or while holding hands. We kissed and caressed each other a lot when we were kids. When we used to be playing out and about, people used to coo at our mutual love. "They do get along lovingly," my mom used to remark.
Over the years, as we realised that our special relationship was raising some eyebrows, we had decided to 'tone it down' by making friends and hanging out with others. Having grown up so close to each other, it was difficult for both of us to find good friends - Sam found it more difficult than me, although I was the one who spent more time alone. She found it difficult to relate to other male friends and her girl friends were very different from her. Although she was a very social and bubbly person, sometimes in the evening or after dinner, she would come around for a quiet hug and we used to talk while lying in bed.
I loved to talk to her about a lot of things - she was an ideal person to talk to. She would listen, question and somewhere in there, in her subtle ways, give me new thoughts and ideas, new perspectives on life. It comes without saying that we were good at consoling each other in the times of sadness too.
~**~
Sam came home after having gone out with her friends and went straight to her room in a hurry. While climbing the stairs mom and me had noticed that she had been crying and it was evident she was not in a good mood from the bang of her bedroom door as she shut it. Then we had heard sobbing coming from her room just before it was muffled.
Since Sam and I never really argued or fought, it was rare in our house to hear doors being slammed - our parents had a happy, contented marriage. Moreover, I had never ever hurt her or upset her. Needless to say, I was taken aback with this display. We had realised this was serious. I was in the lounge with mom and dad and they had just sat down in front of the TV waiting for dinnertime. My parents had stared at me with a big puzzled and alarmed question mark expression. I stared at them for a moment.
Then I got up mumbling, "I will see what the matter is."
"Good boy," mum mumbled. "Tell her dinner is ready."
My parents never got involved between our personal affairs unless we asked for their advice - they left us to deal with each other's issues. Since I was so good at dealing with Sam about her issues, my parents just left me to it.
When I opened her bedroom door slowly, I peered in her room. She had buried her face in her pillow while lying on her tummy on her bed. Her arms were flung around the pillow and she was sobbing quietly still fully dressed. I gently closed the door and after walking slowly to the bed, I sat on it on her side and leaned on my elbow bringing my face close to her head. I started stroking her head gently, running my hand over her long light brown hair and on to her back. I did this several times. Her sobbing was slowing down and I felt she was calming down.
"Hey sweetie", I whispered gently in her ear. She turned her face toward me on the pillow and gazed at me, still tearful but had stopped sobbing.
I could hardly see her in such a state. It broke my heart to see her like that. When she looked at me after slowly composing herself, I caressed her face with my palm and lowered my face to her and asked, "What's the matter? Talk to me."
She stared at me with her tearful eyes. Her mascara had run. She had stopped sobbing but her eyes were still wet. She sat up slowly, turned around and sat on the edge of bed, dropping her feet to the floor and scooting next to me with a tissue in her hand.
As I wrapped my arms around her gently stroking her back, I said softly, "Nothing in the world is worth so much heart-ache."
I really did not know how I came up with that but something was telling me she was distraught over someone. I had never seen her cry like this before. This was her first.
She wrapped her hands around me tightly and sobbed for a few moments. I rubbed her back and tried to calm her down. As I pressed my cheek on her cheek, I ran my hand over her head down her hair. Without shushing her, I tried to calm her sobbing. After a while, she pulled out from the hug and looked at me in my eyes. She just stared at me for a few seconds.
I quietly whispered again, "What's the matter, hon?" I was still stroking her back slowly and gently but now I cupped her cheek in my palm. Seeing her in tears had made me tearful too.
She lowered her gaze and lowering her hands from my hug turned away and softly said, "I've split up with Billy. He dumped me," and sobbed again in her tissue.
I threw my arms around her and she hugged me while starting to sob again.
"Oooo." I sighed relief and sympathised while pulling her in my arms again trying to console her. I had feared something worse.
I smiled and exclaimed, "Well it's his loss. I never really understood what you saw in that douche bag in the first place. Never liked him. You deserve a lot better."
She just giggled under her tearful sobs and again calmed down before she stopped sobbing.
She poked her elbow in my stomach and muttered, "You are just saying that."
"I'm not." I protested. "You know how much I adore you. You certainly deserve a lot better. I don't know who, but certainly not that douche bag." I tried to make light of the situation.
She had been going out with Billy for a while and I thought it was going ok. He was her first real 'boyfriend'. I did not really appreciate him much as her choice, but I had thought that was down to my possessive jealousy and eventually had come to accept their friendship.
While she was turned on her side in my hug and still in my arms, I pulled her close and planted a few kisses on her forehead.
She kept glancing at me while I consoled her.
"It's your fault," she said abruptly looking straight at me in a girly whinge.
"My fault?" I was shocked and surprised as I stared at her. She grinned and so I laughed out. "How is it MY fault?" I was trying to contain my giggling. Now she was giggling from under her tears too.
"You have spoilt me by being so nice. I was wrong to assume he would be like you."
"Well sweetheart, you just made an ass of u and me", I giggled again.
She giggled too. "Stop making me smile. I feel like crying." She whinged in a girly manner.
She was good at relating to my twisted sense of humour.
