Over the past few years I have repeatedly been asked to write another brother/sister story. The subject is not exactly in my personal wheelhouse, but this holiday season I tried my best to author a decent tale regardless. Hope this works for you bro/sis fans.
As always, I am very grateful to my friend Gayle for her willingness to edit my work. You deserve a medal!
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I have to admit, I've always loved my older sister, Karen, dearly, even though at times she can be very neurotic. More so than anyone else I've ever met; she overanalyzes even the most miniscule details of her life, particularly when it comes to dating. Over the years we've spent many hours on the phone together, with her asking me question after question, usually things like, "What do you think he meant by that?"
In spite of this, I've always shown her loads of patience as she was such a great big sister. Both our parents worked when we were growing up, and since Karen was almost six years older than I, there were many days when she was left to look after me. I'm sure most sisters would have rapidly grown tired of having their little brother around all the time, but she didn't really seem to mind at all. Well, that is until she began dating as a teen.
By that point I was pretty self-sufficient, so it really was no big deal. I had a few really good friends, and in a pinch their mothers usually jumped in if I needed anything. Karen, being very attractive, was a social butterfly, so we didn't spend much time together for years. It wasn't until her divorce seven years ago that we finally began to reconnect once more.
We grew up in the Portland, Oregon area, where I lived for most of my life. Just about six years ago, I was introduced, by a friend, to an adorable girl named Megan. She was down from Seattle for a long weekend, and we hit it off right away. She was three years older than I, and already had a decent job in marketing at the headquarters of a major worldwide corporation. I, on the other hand, had gotten out of the Navy a year or so before and really hadn't figured out what I was going to do with my life. Since we seemed to fall in love quickly and wanted to see more of one another, the next thing I knew we were living together in her condo in Seattle.
Given my background in the Navy, firefighting seemed like it might make a really good fit. With Megan's encouragement, hard work on my part, and a bit of good fortune, I ended up with a high standing among applicants and soon landed a job with the SFD. My station house was staffed with good guys and I couldn't be happier in my new home.
Things went great for about a year and a half, when I slowly started seeing subtle differences in Megan's behavior. At first she loved showing off her big, firefighter boyfriend to her friends and colleagues, but that seemed to change over time. Suddenly I didn't wear the right clothes, or drive the right car, like the guys in her office did. She then began to insinuate I didn't make enough money, and hinted very pointedly that I should go back to school to earn my degree. By the end of our relationship, she made it clear that if she was going to stay home and raise kids, I simply needed a better job.
I think it's fair to say by that time the bloom was off the rose for me too. Constantly hearing Megan's little digs and jabs had really grown tiresome for me. I had risked my life first for my country, and then for the citizens of the Emerald City, so I believed I'd earned a little more respect than she seemed capable of giving. On numerous occasions I attempted to address the situation with her, but her attitude never changed.
I really had grown to love my job, and simply no longer cared what she thought. Checking the paper daily, I began looking for an apartment closer to work and just days later found a small but comfortable place to call my own. With the help of a couple buddies, we moved all my stuff in one single afternoon while Megan was at work. I left her a brief note on the kitchen table, along with my copies of the keys, and I was gone.
Megan called me, upset, that evening, but the die had been cast. My friends told me I should have blasted her for being so rude, but I didn't really see any upside in that for either of us. She clearly wanted an executive type to provide for her, while I needed someone who would simply respect me for me. After listening to her tears for a while, we hung up and I've barely heard from her since.
After that little misadventure, I embraced the single life in Seattle for all it was worth. I've long had a thing for healthy, outdoorsy girls, and here they seemed to grow on trees. I dated many women, a couple fairly seriously over the last few years, but I really preferred the single life to being otherwise tied down.
During all that time, I stayed in close contact with my sister, Karen. At times even our historical roles were reversed, with me asking her questions about my relationship with Megan. In fact, Karen was one of the people telling me to blast her, as nobody treated her little brother that way!
My sister worked in sales for a major investment firm in Portland, and covered the Pacific Northwest territory as their internal sales person. They had an external sales guy who was on the road constantly visiting major clients, while Karen traveled only on occasion to the smaller offices he couldn't be bothered with. As such, she came to town every couple of months, so we tried to grab a bite to eat or a drink while she was here.
Just a couple months ago I received a call on my cell from her one evening to let me know she was going to be here for a couple meetings the following Friday, and hoped we could get together. I had a rolling schedule like many in my profession, and I just so happened to be off that day. By that time, I was living in an apartment atop Queen Anne hill, so we arranged to meet at a small Mexican place I knew she could find, directly at the bottom of the hill.
I arrived first and selected a table in the bar. Karen walked in about ten minutes later, looking as good as I'd ever seen her. For a thirty six year old mother of one, she really had it going on. My sister stands about five foot seven, with long curly brown hair and the largest brown eyes you've ever seen. Her skin is flawless, and on the darker side, I assume due to our Mediterranean heritage. She also has a full chest, about a 36 C I'd guess, maybe even a D, with a slim waist, perky butt and long legs. If I were being completely honest, I'd have to tell you that she was my dream girl.
After giving each other a long hug, we settled in and began chatting about our lives as we sipped our drinks. Being the big sister, at first Karen asked me a load of questions until she was satisfied things were going well for me. As usual, I didn't have to wait long until she began sharing many of the smallest details of her life.
I was happy to learn that her daughter, my niece Allison, was doing great and loving her sophomore year of high school. Apparently she was already the star of the varsity soccer team, and may even make captain of the squad as a junior. Her marks were high too, so things on that front seemed good all around.
As was usually the case when the two of us got together, our conversation became animated as we had more to drink. After Karen killed her second margarita and ordered a third, I knew she'd be spending the night in my guest bedroom and not making the long drive back to Portland. She called Allison to break the news, then the mother of Ally's best friend requesting she keep an eye out for her. After that, the conversation heated up even more.
Karen then let me know that her most recent relationship had just come to an end. I was surprised to learn that it had actually lasted almost nine months, because from what she had told me on the phone from time to time, it appeared in jeopardy almost from day one. Many nights while I sat on my couch at home, from the other end of the line I listened as she articulated all of Justin's shortcomings.
From what I learned, he was a nice guy and for the most part treated her like a queen, yet according to my sister that just wasn't good enough. I heard many variations on, "He was too wishy-washy," so she finally had to dump him. Of course most of this was not new to me, so I wondered aloud why it took so long to finally pull the ejector seat.
Karen once again reiterated that Justin had treated her very well, so for a while she was willing to give him second, third and forth chances, but finally she had had enough. She then surprised me when she said, "It's too bad because he had a really big penis."
