"Oh God Rick," Julie sat up, tears slid down her pretty face. "What just happened?"
I had made love to my little sister, right on the floor of the family room. A moment ago it had seemed so right and so natural, but now with my sister crying naked beside me, it felt anything but. A light sheen of sweat moistened her body, plastering strands of long, brown hair to her cheeks and back. Her large boobs swayed with each panicked breath.
Her tears flowed faster. "How could we? How could I, with my own brother?" She rose from the floor, leaving her discarded clothes behind.
"Julie." I followed her naked body up the stairs but she wouldn't stop. She slammed her bedroom door in my face. What had I done? I went back downstairs, the smell of sex was everywhere. The family room was disheveled, I imagined my parents walking in with the evidence of our sin all around. I scrubbed the floor where our naked bodies had laid, scouring the spot of pink moisture that proved my sister was no longer a virgin. I sprayed air freshener, enveloping the room in a mist of cinnamon sticks so thick that I almost choked on it.
I could scrub and wash and spray all night but I was convinced my parents would still know what we had done. Somehow, I thought, they'll know.
Deep down I knew better. My parents would have no clue, as long as I remained calm. Our incestuous mistake would remain a dark secret forever, never to be repeated.
What if Julie tells? My life would be over. I had to go to pack up my things, then go to the bank and withdraw all of my money, then gas up my car and get the hell away from Saratoga Spring. No, I had to calm down. She would never do that to our parents.
That night as I sat on my bed I listened to isolated sobs in the next room. For the first time in my life I couldn't go in and comfort my little sister or promise her that everything would be alright.
My little sister had gotten hurt and it was because of me. I couldn't control myself. I was no better than Erin or Sam. As if stealing my sister's virginity wasn't enough, I still wanted her, I ached for Julie. What kind of pervert was I?
Despite my fears the sun came up the next morning. As it did every day for the rest of the week. The summer sun was still shining as I headed out the following Saturday night. I found my parents in the family room watching an old western. They were on the couch, my mother's head reclined on my father's shoulder. His arm was wrapped securely around her waist.
Julie was with them. She sat alone, curled up in the loveseat. She wore the same nightshirt as last Saturday, I had peeled it from her body right before we... I didn't want to think about it anymore. I was through feeling guilty, it was a mistake, everybody makes them.
I could forgive myself easy enough, but Julie's forgiveness would be a different matter. She hadn't talked to me all week. She wouldn't look at me or acknowledge my existence in any way. What if she hated me forever?
I fastened the last button on one of my Dad's old dress shirt. The sleeves rested a good two inches above my wrists, but it was the only thing I could find, since Mom had donated my old clothes to Goodwill. I cleared my throat, announcing my presence. My parents looked up, Julie stared straight ahead at the television. "Where are you off to, a big date?" My father asked. At least his question elicited a reaction from Julie, she tentatively looked me over.
"Sure Dad, I always wear a smock on a first date, you know how messy things can get." My parents giggled.
"I'm giving art lessons at the Community Center tonight." I had volunteered as part of a program at school, for students who are considering teaching careers. "Can you believe they're giving me extra credit to watch little kids make messes?"
"College sure has changed since my days. When your mom and I were still in school the Saturday night activities weren't nearly as wholesome." Mom slapped his shoulder. He grinned, the skin around his eyes and mouth creased. At fifty-five years old Dad was finally beginning to show his age.
I checked my watch and saw that I was already running late. "Got to go," I said.
My parents wished me luck, Julie remained silent.
A lovely amalgamation of sawdust and paint fumes assaulted my nostrils. The community center had opened a month ago, so it still had that distinct new building smell. Mr. DeBerg, my art instructor, had told me about the school's teaching program at the center and I was among the first to volunteer. Six weeks of babysitting and I would have a course credit to show for my efforts. The art room's walls were fresh and white, the linoleum floors sparkled from a fresh waxing. Not for long, I thought. I suspected the place would look like an exploded rainbow by the end of the night.
A trickle of toe-headed suburbanites had made their way to the little easels set up in the center of the classroom. I glanced at the lesson plan to see that my college had assigned finger painting as tonight's activity. Someone must have hated the janitorial staff around here.
I heard wailing just outside the door. There was a small red-headed boy crying in the hallway. A young woman in a green summer dress attempted to soothe the child. She was petite with a very nice body and long, crimson hair that flowed down her back in loose coils. I didn't need to see her face, I guessed she would be gorgeous.
She spoke to the boy, her voice was like an angel's harp, delicate and graceful. She promised him a milkshake on the ride home if he behaved in class. I recognized that melodious voice.
"Renee?" I stammered. My old girlfriend had picked this moment to reenter my life.
The wispy green dress fluttered as she turned. Same dimples, same freckles, it was indeed my Renee.
"Rick." She seemed pleased to see me. "What are you doing here?"
"Teaching a class," I said. "Or at least trying to teach." I looked directly at the boy. "I seem to have misplaced one of my students."
She turned back to the boy. "Tyler, I need to talk with your teacher a moment." She placed a slender hand on his head, tousling red hair. I noticed her fingers were ring-less, that was a welcomed bit of news. "Will you be a good boy and go inside the classroom for me?" The boy nodded.
I patted his red head as he walked past. "Cute kid," I said as soon as we were alone. "He looks just like you."
"Tyler's my nephew," she said. More good news. "You look good," she said. She looked better. "Still dreaming of being an artist?"
"No, I've set my goals a little lower. From starving artist, to starving art teacher. I guess either way I'm destined to straddle the poverty line."
"Money isn't the most important thing in the world, Rick. My ex-fiancée was an English teacher. He always told me that his greatest rewards came from teaching." I nodded, I would find out soon enough. "Then he found something that had even greater rewards. Banging the Spanish teacher under his desk."
"Ouch." I grimaced.
"That's what she said after I caught the two of them."
