"Maggie, Susy, Andy... this is Lance, your half-brother. He'll be living with us from now on!"
Way to go, dad. We never knew dad had a son in a previous marriage, and all of a sudden he drops a bomb on us and places this stranger in our home, expecting us to just accept him and move on?
OK, so we did... in a way. Sure, Susy had to start seeing a shrink, and Andy suddenly became interested in girls (at a much too young an age, in my opinion) and stayed out every other night, but on the whole, things worked out well. Mum and I treated Lance with respect, although we were never really close to him, and dad... well, he was as preoccupied with work as always. No news there.
Lance was an odd one. I never felt like he was my half-brother, more like he was a distant relative. Susy and Andy and I are all blond and chubby, whereas Lance is tall, gangly, and dark. Apparently he got it from his mum. She died in cancer, and that's why Lance came to live with us. He was always quiet and withdrawn, and we never got to know him. He kept to himself most of the time, like a house guest. And now, 3 years later, he was moving out.
***********************************
It was kind of typical that our family was scattered in different activities the day Lance moved out. Mum and dad were at work, Andy was out on a date, and Susy was at the mall with her friends. Me, I was supposed to go over to a friend's house, but she got the flu, so we cancelled it. I felt a little sad when I came home and saw Lance packing, so I offered to help him. His gloomy face lit up.
"Thanks, Max," he said, calling me by the nickname only he uses, a boyish form of "Mags".
We carried the bags and boxes out to the car. Lance didn't own very much.
"Do you wanna... come along and help me move into my new place?" said Lance. "Unless you're busy..?"
"No, I mean, sure, I'll come!" I said.
When we drove through town looking for Herald Street, I looked at Lance's bony hands on the steering wheel. When did the skinny little boy grow up into this mature handsome man? He was only 19, one year older than me, but he seemed so much older - like, 30!
"There it is!"
His voice was manly too, not breaking like Andy's. We were lucky; there was an elevator in the building. We pinned the door open with one of Lance's heavy boxes of books to keep it in place, then we unloaded the car and went up to the 8th floor with all his stuff. Lance's apartment was small and dark, and the walls were nothing but bricks and concrete.
"It used to be a textile factory in the 40'ies," said Lance. "Cool, huh?"
And when I saw it through Lance's eyes, it did look cool. Raw and primitive and bare. Like a clean slate. I helped him put together his IKEA bookcase and blow up his inflatable bed, and Lance put the books up. Even though we didn't say much to each other except for "where would you like this?" and "I think those would go nice over there, don't you think?", we still had fun trying to create a home out of Lance's few worldly possessions.
"I'm hungry," said Lance, when we were almost done. "Come on, let's take a break and go for pizza. My treat!"
Half an hour later, we were back in the apartment, sitting on top of the inflatable bed eating pizza with our hands.
"You have to get a kitchen table and some chairs," I said. "And cutlery and glasses!"
"I'll go shopping tomorrow," said Lance. "Hey, Max... thanks."
"No problem," I said. "It feels a little weird. You moving out, I mean."
"Well, now everything will be back to normal," he said. "Just... the family."
I felt guilty.
"But you ARE family!" I said, but it sounded lame in my ears.
"I've never felt like I was a part of the family," said Lance, without a trace of bitterness."It's like I've been on the outside, looking in through a window."
"I'm sorry."
"Why?"
Lance suddenly looked at me, actually LOOKED at me, and I felt pierced by his deep, brown eyes. I couldn't understand why I suddenly felt so... so... weird, in front of Lance. We'd never been good friends or confidants, but we'd never argued either. We were polite strangers. Why then, did my heart beat when he looked at me?
"Why are you sorry?" Lance repeated.
"Well, I... I think it's sad that you felt like you were an outsider," I said. "I mean, after all... you ARE our half-brother."
"That's just genetics," said Lance. "I think it's more important what you FEEL. I have close friends who feel more like my brothers to me than Andy ever will."
"It's not that we don't like you," I tried to explain. "It's just that... we never even knew you existed, and all of a sudden you're living with us! But... I think you're OK. I like you."
"It's getting dark," said Lance. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
We didn't speak on the way. I felt hurt, as if he had pushed me away. But when he stopped outside our house he suddenly grabbed my arm and squeezed it.
"Thanks, Max," he said. "I really appreciate you helping me out today. You've always been my favorite sister."
"No problem," I said, and felt all happy and warm inside again.
*******************************
2 weeks later I was standing outside Lance's door again. I rang the door bell furiously, and ran passed Lance when he opened.
"Max?" he said, surprised and worried. "What's wrong?"
I explained about the fight I had just had with mum and dad over a stupid curfew - I was 18 and still had a CURFEW? - and I refused to go home to those morons!
"Have a seat," said Lance. "I'll be right back."
He went out into the tiny kitchen, and I walked into his living room / bedroom and slumped down on the inflatable bed. The TV was on. Seinfeld. I wiped my tears and felt my rage cool off while I watched Kramer charm a woman off her feet in spite of his ugliness and goofiness. Lance came in and sat down next to me.
"I talked to your mum," he said, putting his cell phone on the low coffee table in front of the bed. "I suggested that you stay the night and I drive you home tomorrow. She agreed to it."
"Thanks, Lance!" I gave him a spontaneous hug, but quickly pulled back.
Even though he WAS my half-brother, he hadn't grown up with the rest of us and he wasn't "in tune" with our habit of hugging left and right. It felt wrong to hug him like that.
"No problem," he said. "I think it's good if all you you get to cool off before you see each other again."
We watched TV some more, chatted during commercials, and Lance told me about him taking a year off before college to work at a floral maintenance service company and taking art classes in the evenings. We talked more with each other that night than we'd done in the past 3 years. When I couldn't hide my yawning any longer, Lance made the bed and tossed me a T-shirt to use as a nightgown. He stayed rather long in the bathroom to give me time to undress and get into bed. When he came back, he turned the lights off before he undressed, then he crawled down next to me with his back to mine. I was so tired that I fell asleep in less than a minute.
*********************************
When I woke up, something had happened. Lance had turned around in his sleep and now his chest was pressed against my back, his arm was wrapped around me, he was snoring quietly next to my ear, and I felt his hard-on press against my ass. I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. I was in Lance's arms, and it felt nice. Sure, he was still rather skinny, but I could feel the strength in the slim, muscular arm around me. Lance was all man. I carefully pressed myself against his warm body. He was so hard... I could feel his cock press into the cleft between my ass cheeks. It trembled. I squeezed my ass around it to trap it. That's when Lance woke up. He gasped for breath, freed his arm, and sat up. I rolled over on my back.
