Lifeline

The lamp light was weak, its power barely enough to keep the featureless bedroom from plunging into total darkness. The dimness suited Kyle just fine; the dying light was a perfect accompaniment for his mental state. In truth, total darkness may have been better but with most of his bottle of Wild Turkey gone he was too intoxicated to locate his drink by feel. He sat in the recliner next to his bed, his expression blank as he looked at the calendar on the wall. July 31

st

was only 2 days away. He'd marked the date in red, just like every other calendar he'd bought in the last seven years.

The pain of loss and longing was a burden he carried with him always. It never slackened, never gave him a moment's peace. In the intervening years it had only gotten heavier and he was nearly at the end of his endurance. At times like this, sitting alone in his small apartment, blind drunk, he wondered why he was not crushed already. He reached over to grab the .38 revolver from his nightstand drawer with the feel of ritual.

Is this the day?

he thought as he inspected the rounds in the chamber for umpteenth time. He snapped the chamber closed with a practiced flick of the wrist and pointed the weapon at his face. He stared down the short barrel as if looking into infinity.

It would be so easy, an ounce of pressure, an end to all my pain

. His finger squeezed the trigger. The hammer twitched, then stilled. He took a deep breath and lowered the gun from his face.

I'll wait

, he thought.

I'll do it on the day. It'd be fitting

. He ran his hand through his short cropped sandy hair, polished off the remainder of his bourbon and fell asleep in his chair. He dreamed of his mother's horrified face as she fell dead; the alcohol never killed the dreams.

Seven Years Ago...

"Kyle! Cecelia! Come on down! Your breakfast is getting cold!" Ellen Bloomhurst yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

"Ugh, coming mom," said Kyle, groggy and slightly annoyed. He arrived in town from Arizona St. the evening before and was fighting a hangover; catching up with old friends was an expensive business. He shuffled down the stairs, shaggy brown hair in his eyes, wearing an old pair of basketball shorts and ankle socks. "Geez! What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock, son," chimed in Dan, already sitting at the table fully dressed, the paper and his coffee in front of him. "Might as well get used to it. No sense lying about all summer."

"But it's Saturday. My internship doesn't start for another week. I thought I'd decompress for a little bit, maybe catch up with some old friends before I put my nose to the grindstone. Finals were brutal."

"Oh give him a break, Dan," Ellen said in mock exasperation as she placed a plate piled high with pancakes, bacon, and eggs on the table. "I, for one, am just happy he came home for the whole summer this year. He's got plenty of time, at least give me a chance to fatten him up a little. He looks like he barely eats a thing. Have a seat," she addressed Kyle. "Eat up son; I'll bring you a cup of coffee."

"Thanks Mom," he said, his mouth watering in anticipation for his mother's famous breakfast. He sat and ate with gusto, the food and coffee doing much to dispel the effects from a night of drinking. He focused on the meal while his parents chatted to each other with the feel of ritual. The normalcy was a salve to his frayed nerves; finals really were tough. He'd managed to pass every class but was troubled by an almost failing grade in both Organic Chemistry and South American History. Fortunately, going for a Computer Science major meant that he'd no longer have to take such classes but the hit to his GPA still made him cringe when he let himself think about it. While eating he let the school year melt away and soaked in the idyllic home life he didn't know he'd missed in Arizona.

Cecilia came downstairs in a whirlwind looking fresh as morning sunshine. Her dark hair was mostly gathered up in a ponytail, the wisps framing her heart-shaped face. She wore a long sleeve red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the buttons loose. The white tee underneath read

Girls do it Better

in pink glitter. She had on tight khaki shorts that ended at mid-thigh, red and white striped knee socks and all-white K-Swiss shoes. Her face was unadorned save for a small diamond stud piercing her left nostril. Her book bag bounced on her back as she hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. "No time to talk peeps. Gonna be late. Hi bro-bot! We'll catch up later gotta go!" She said her piece in a rush, all in one breath. She snatched a pancake off the stack, rolled bits of egg and sausage in it, kissed each of her family members on the temple and exited out the back door in less than 60 seconds.

Kyle had stopped eating as soon as he caught sight of his sister. Much had changed in the two years since he was home. Cece was a late bloomer; it seemed to Kyle that she had finally flowered. The pictures his mom had sent of the family did not do her justice. That coltish, almost boyish figure she'd sported when he left for college was gone, replaced with curves that fully complemented her slightly above average height. Her breasts filled out her shirt admirably and he could tell by the bounce that she wore no bra underneath the mildly evocative tee she wore. Her legs would not have been out of place on a runway model. It was the first time he'd seen her since he drove in the day before; she'd been studying at a friend's house and hadn't returned before he'd gone out to reunite with his own friends. He could do nothing but stare as she flashed through the house and out the back door.

He shook himself out of his daze, hoping his parents hadn't noticed when he'd gone slack-jawed. Tentatively, he asked, "Where was she headed like her shorts were on fire?"

"Softball game most likely," said his mother as she cleared the remnants of breakfast from the table. "She does tend to keep busy though. Far be it from me to try to analyze that girl's social calendar."

"You let her take you around," chimed in his father as he folded the morning paper. "And keep an eye on her. Sometimes I worry that she's stretching herself too thin. We try, me and your mother, but she might take it better coming from her big brother. She looks up to you, you know."

"Uh, sure dad," he said in a tone that sounded far from convinced. He was still trying to rid himself of the sense of amazement at the changes time had wrought on his younger sibling. He'd agree to anything if it meant they could move the topic of conversation off Cecelia. "So, anyway, what are you guys up to this morning?"

"Your dad's got his weekly golf game with the partners and I'm going shopping. Really," her voice carried a hint of exasperation. "I love it when you visit but give me some advance notice next time. Not even a phone call; I didn't get a chance to prepare anything for your arrival." The conversation steered back onto safer topics. Other than the occasional mild admonishment from either of his parents they settled back into their normal routine. Kyle didn't comment unless directly addressed; that let him ignore most of what was being said and clear his mind of increasingly disturbing images of a sister that had become absolutely stunning while he wasn't looking.

Shortly they left the table, his parents to take care of their weekend business and him back to his room; they had not changed a thing since he lived there last. He lay on the bed staring at the ceiling trying without success to banish the images of his sister. He turned on the stereo with the remote, his forearm across his eyes. He let the music clear his mind of all thought, leaving him relaxed and unfocused. It worked somewhat. He was able to push the sudden desire from his immediate thoughts. It was enough; to him it meant that he'd get over the shock eventually and things would go back to normal. He slowly drifted off to sleep, his pulsing erection giving him the lie.

***

A playful, sing-song voice coaxed him back to awareness. "Can't sleep forever bro-bot. Wakey wakey."

"But you gotta admit, he does look rather adorable," another voice said, vaguely familiar. "Especially with the drool."

Kyle was waking, albeit slowly. As his brain booted up he started noticing things. They were pleasant things, things that made him smile. Afternoon sunlight caressed one cheek, soft hair tickled the other. The scent of flowers and freshly scrubbed female invaded his nostrils. Soft hands pressed on his chest and a comfortable weight straddled his hips. The thought occurred to him that he should not be feeling this way at home, that only a lover would wake him this way.

His eyes snapped open and he stared into baby blue eyes that looked remarkably like the ones he saw in the mirror. "Jeez! Took you long enough," said Cecelia, smiling despite the words of derision. "Now that I have your attention, arise brother o'mine!"

"Kinda hard to do with you weighing me down like a sack of potatoes," he fired back with a grunt and a bit of sibling teasing of his own. She took her hands off his chest so that he could sit up on his elbows though she still straddled his hips. He looked over and saw another beauty, this one with tilted amber eyes and curly dark blond hair. Her voluptuous body was clad in a pair of hip hugger jeans that looked poured on and a yellow tank top that ended at her jeweled navel. She stood next to his bed with a wicked smile. Her voice was familiar but he could not for the life of him remember ever seeing her before. Then, something clicked. "Myra?" he asked, not completely certain.

"Got it in one," she said, pleased that he remembered.

He shook his head, bewildered. He'd been gone for too long. Myra was his sister's best friend and he still thought of her as the geeky girl with the braces that followed his sister around like a lost puppy. Resolving that image with the bombshell that stood next to his bed with perfect white teeth was proving to be difficult. His erection twitched involuntarily. He sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that Cece didn't feel the pulse. "Um, what time is it," he asked while trying to recover his mental balance. "And just why are you in my room?"

"Well, it's about 2 in the afternoon. Mom told me to come get you for a late lunch. Myra said she wanted to see the conquering hero. I told her all I had to offer was a lame brother but she could tag along anyway. So here we are. We spent the last 10 minutes taking turns trying to wake you up and I guess I won."

"And what's the prize?" he said warily.

"I get to hold you down..." she pushed his shoulders back to the mattress.

"And I have to kiss you," chimed in Myra in a soft, sweet voice that was enticingly close to his ear. She managed to sound solemn and regretful; it did not match the twinkle in her golden eyes. Then she gave him a peck on the cheek. It felt like a brand to his over-stimulated nervous system. He could not move, a fact that made him thankful. If he could move, he was afraid of what lust might drive him to. Definitely something stupid and irretrievable. "Now take a shower big boy," she teased. "You stink." She wrinkled her nose prettily and the girls burst into a fit of giggles.

Cece finally released him after the girls purged the amusement from their system. He lay on his bed stunned. He hoped they were too young to notice his desire, were unaware of the storm they'd set to raging inside him. Thankfully they left the room so that he could gather himself and back away from his inappropriate thoughts. Thinking about Myra in that way was okay of course. As he thought about it he saw that the entire act they put on was probably the point of the exercise. But thoughts of his sister, those were the intolerable ones and for the life of him he could not get her out of his head. The feeling of her weight on his hips, pressing down had felt more than good, it felt right. His body responded to that pressure and he knew it. Myra's kiss, oh so close to his mouth, teasingly close, had had a similar effect. He felt it wrong for the reaction to be that close for two different women, one with whom he shared blood. He pushed his thoughts of them out of his mind temporarily. Mom had called him for dinner. He showered as ordered, dressed and went downstairs, slowly coming to the realization that it would be a long summer.

Present...

Kyle tossed, turned and sweated in his chair. This time his dreams were pleasant; they were not always so. The ones where he burned in his mother's pain-filled eyes for eternity were the worst. Despite the pleasant nature of this particular recurring dream he was disturbed; it was wrong and he deserved nothing but pain. In them he made love to an indistinct woman. Her features as well as the background, all was blurred and washed out in the manner of dreams. The only distinct feature was a pair of ever-changing eyes, at times amber, others baby blue. When her eyes were amber his motions were loving and gentle; it was all fire and intensity when those eyes turned blue. He somehow knew that if those eyes stayed amber he could've been happy, that disaster would have been averted. No matter how appealing, how safe amber would have been he continued to be drawn to the blue eyes like a moth to flame with similar results. He felt it clearly in the dream. He wanted both but was only allowed the amber. There was no fighting the pull of those blue eyes no matter how much it shamed him to admit it. The most shameful part is that in his soul he never wanted to fight it at all.

Seven years ago...

True to her word, Cece made it her business to catch up with her brother. This consisted mainly of her parading him around and showing him off to her friends; apparently he had been an object of desire for many of them. He got to see first-hand how much these girls had grown and he was not disappointed; they were all impressively fit, toned and shapely. There wasn't an unappealing one in the bunch. He didn't say much during the parade; he was content with letting her talk about the changes in her life over the past two years. He figured mom kept her abreast of the goings on in his life because she did not ask about his life away from home overmuch.

After the fifth such meeting he started becoming suspicious of her motives.

What are you up to, little sister?

he thought as he was dragged along in her wake. They would go to one of her friend's houses, stay for a few minutes and talk about nothing in particular after she introduced or reintroduced him. The girl would send him sly, calculating glances that sent pinpricks up his spine. Myra accompanied them and as she flanked him she seemed to keep a possessive hand on his arm. Then they'd leave and head to the next house on Cece's mental checklist. It was obvious to him that the ladies were having an unspoken conversation with him as the subject but the specifics were going over his head.

After taking the grand tour they dropped Myra off at her home, presumably to get ready. For what he did not know; the girls were quite reticent on the subject. "Just go with the flow bro-bot," said Cece when he questioned her next move. After a while he stopped asking. He had no reason to mistrust her after all. Then they were home and suddenly her questions started flowing. "Tell me all about Arizona St.," she commanded. She listened with rapt attention as he poured out all his experiences in the two years since they'd last seen each other. She had a way of asking questions that simply made the words flow forth. It made him feel as at home as their mother's cooking, and as warm.

When the topic turned to relationships she seemed to light up. She was very interested in the fact that he was between girlfriends. She then started grilling him on the type of girl he typically fell for. He believed he figured out her strategy then. He noticed that every girl he'd been introduced to that day was varied in hair color, skin tone and body type. Spoiled for choice he was.

Was Cece trying to get me laid

? he thought as a smile came to his face. He was amazed at her subtlety. He was tempted to call her out on her benign deviousness but decided against it; it would be much more fun to play along.

He ended up describing a woman remarkably similar to Myra in terms of body type and personality. That pleased her; she obviously preferred for him to like her best friend. It wasn't exactly a lie either. Out of all his sister's friends he actually did prefer Myra. Her exotic features were enough to make his mouth water what with her canted amber eyes, high cheekbones and natural blond hair. Add that to a body that most porn princesses would envy and a sweet, down to earth personality, the total package was downright stunning. He refused to acknowledge even to himself that Cece outshined them all in his eyes, that the comfortable feel of her weight pressing down on his body made his manhood swell whenever his thoughts drifted in that direction. He couldn't tell her that the sight of her sitting on his bed, one shapely leg tucked underneath her, absent-mindedly chewing on the end of one of her braids made him want to pin her down and kiss her until she cried for mercy. Thinking about Myra in that way made a sizable impression in his pants as well, but it was much safer to think about her than his sexy sister. He'd been practiced at hiding boners since he was 13 after all.

They talked for a good hour before Cece got up with her typical energy and bounced out the room, leaving him instructions to make himself look presentable, they were going out that night. "What's wrong with what I have on?" he asked. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Humor me, would you?" she replied. "I'm showing off my brother. The ratty t-shirt and holey jeans look is not cute. Dress like you would if you were going on a date. And hurry up," she added. "We are going to be late."

"Late for what?"

"For picking up Myra, silly!" she said, exasperated. "We're going to the movies and she needs a ride. Now, enough with the questions. Get dressed."

***

Kyle sat in the comfortable theater chairs, a beautiful young woman seated to either side of him. He was dressed well. So were they. He was silent, seemingly intent on the movie's opening credits. An observer would have noted that his face looked placid, still. They would not see his eyes in the dark theater, would not be able to tell those twin pools reflected irritation in their depths.

Damn you, Cece! Why'd you have to drag me here?

he thought as the lights dimmed further and the movie began in earnest. Kyle controlled his irrational anger; he knew he had absolutely no right to feel it. He could not blame her anyway. Didn't she set him up with a pretty blond girl that was obviously into him? Didn't she bring him to a perfect place for them to get closer, maybe even make out? She was trying to get him laid and yet he was pissed. He had been pissed since the car ride.

The reason for his ire sat on the other side of Cecelia. A Derrick or Damon or whatever, he forgot the guy's name two seconds after he heard it. She'd picked him up after they grabbed Myra. Before, he was conflicted; both ladies looked amazing. He had trouble tearing his eyes from either his sister or her best friend. Then Cece's date showed up and he felt proprietary.

How dare he try to take away my girl

? He'd had to check himself. Of course she didn't belong to him, at least not in that way.

She's my sister dammit! Not my lover!

he thought furiously, fighting waves of jealousy.

Something of his struggle must have shown on his face. "What's the matter, Kyle?" Myra asked, her amber eyes wide with innocence and concern. She looked up at his face as she held his arm close, nestled between her breasts. Looking at her made him feel stupid for being jealous. Why should he be concerned? Didn't his sister deserve some companionship too? It wasn't like she'd be getting any from him.