Author: Early 20s, male, USA, single, straight, handsome (or so they say). Getting my life started. Doing this for kicks.
Experimenting with the taboo. Let me know in the comments what you think. Should I do a second one?
Hope you enjoy.
Cheers.
___
The ride home. The dreadful ride home.
As he sat in the back of a car, Mike constructed several scenarios as to how coming home was going to go. The underlying assumption was that his parents weren't going to be very cheerful about it. Maybe, though, if he could beat his sister home, they would appreciate him a little more. Because he knew that, if his sister beat him home, he would remain the afterthought he'd become ever since the two were adolescents.
Big sister. Victoria. The winner. The champion. Number one. She would beat him home, he determined. She always beat him.
She beat him at life. She even beat him at birth. And it wasn't like they were twins, mere minutes apart: Victoria came a full year before him. Even in birth she beat him by a landslide. She'd probably end up beating him at death, too. Whatever that entailed.
"Hey, where you comin' from, man (if you don't mind me asking)?" asked the driver as he pulled out of the airport.
"College." he answered dryly, still wallowing in his dread.
"Nice. End of the semester, huh?"
"Yep."
"So you lookin' forward to finally comin' home? Seein' your people and all that?"
Mike couldn't even lie. "No, not really."
"Damn, man. It's like that?"
"You bet."
"Sorry to hear that."
"So am I."
__
Mike's heart rate picked up as the family estate came into view. He tried to keep it under control, taking a deep breath in and out. But his heart pounded all the same.
He kept thinking about how Senior would glance right through him, his firm judgment piercing his son's heart like a hot knife through butter. Maybe Victoria would be there too, sitting right next to him, echoing him (as she always did).
"You got a really nice house. Probably the best I ever seen." remarked the driver. "At least you got something nice to come home to."
Mike ignored his comment as they pulled into the driveway. "Hey, you think you could help me bring my stuff to the front door? I'll tip you extra through the app."
The driver glanced at his clock for a second, as if to imply he might not be able to. "You know what, man? Sure." he finally answered after a few seconds. "I'll help you out."
"Thanks."
__
Mike waved the driver off as he pulled out of the estate. He waited until he couldn't see the car anymore, taking his time to get into the house. He turned around slowly and fetched his keys.
The chill he'd been expecting hit him as he flung the door open. Senior always liked his house cold, even in the winter. "Cold keeps a man uncomfortable." he would tell Mike. "Uncomfortable and hungry."
As he dragged his suitcases into the foyer, he could hear activity deeper in the house. It was probably the kitchen, he thought. He knew Senior would be there, sipping his coffee in the breakfast nook and reading the weekly paper. That was his Saturday morning ritual. But why would anyone be cooking? Verena always left Friday nights.
Verena walked into the foyer with a wide smile on her face. "Junior!" she called out in her Creole accent, moving in for a hug.
"Nanny!" Mike lit up a bit when he saw Verena, meeting her halfway and embracing her. As his real mother was always at work, Verena was the closest thing to a mother-figure he'd had.
Verena was an immigrant from St. Lucia. She'd been Mike's nanny since he could walk, and, much unlike his parents, she always treated him with affection. Because he couldn't confide in his parents, or his sister, he would often confide in her.
"Look at you!" she started, marveling at how much Mike had changed in a semester. You look so strong!" she said, doting on the boy. "I bet the ladies can't resist you." She wasn't lying. He'd started working out, and the ladies did take note.
"Well, I don't know about all that." he replied shyly. "I'm sure the guys are still tripping over each other for you, though."
"Oh, stop it." she replied, waving him off with a smile.
"Why are you here on a Saturday?" he asked, changing gears. "You have your own family to look after, don't you?"
"Your father wanted me to make dinner. You both came back today."
A formal dinner on the first day back? That was going to be awful, Mike thought.
"Oh, okay." he finished neutrally, hiding his distaste. "What are you making?" he asked.
"Your sister's favorite." she answered with a frown. Verena was very aware of the dynamic of the house. She didn't like it, and she loved Mike, but she wouldn't complain to her employers. After all, they had used their connections to fast-track Verena's citizenship.
"Of course you are. I'm not sure why I asked." he replied with a dejected smile. "Is she here?"
"She's upstairs."
"Of course she is."
"Come and see your father." Verena commanded, turning around to walk back into the kitchen.
"But my stuff..." complained Mike, looking to delay the inevitable reunion.
"Come and see him." she reasserted as she walked back into the kitchen.
Mike's heart sank as he realized he would have to deal with Senior sooner rather than later. He stood there for several seconds, held still by his aversion, until he finally rolled his eyes and took the first step.
Indeed, each step seemed difficult enough; Mike felt like he traveled miles as he approached the kitchen through the main hallway. His heart raced faster as he began to smell the seasonings for the night's dinner. But he didn't stop. The sooner he could get this over with, Mike eventually reasoned, the better.
Mike turned the corner into the kitchen and, of course, quickly found Senior sitting in the breakfast nook, reading his weekly paper, sipping his coffee. Senior must have heard Mike enter, as even Verena turned to look, but he kept his gaze on the newspaper. Mike knew the stubborn man would not even glance at him unless approached. "If you're ever going to approach a man for a favor," Senior would always say, "make sure you're pants are pulled up. Otherwise he'll fuck you."
"Senior." Mike called out as confidently as he could.
He looked up from the paper as if Mike hadn't been standing there for the past five seconds. "Junior." he answered neutrally.
He removed his hands from his coffee mug and put his glasses on.
Junior stood frozen as Senior's eyes glazed over him. This was the judgment part, he figured. He hadn't a clue as to what Senior would think.
"You look... solid." he finally said. Verena smiled and quietly sighed in relief. She'd been expecting something negative, as did Junior.
"Where's Mother?" answered Junior quickly, indirectly communicating that he did not care for Senior's compliment.
"She's in the city, dealing with a big client."
Junior wasn't sure why he even asked the question. Ever since Mother had made partner at a corporate law firm ten years before, her hours seemed to worsen. She spent many weekends at the family's midtown flat, closer to her work. Senior, to contrast, who was a managing director at a major Wall Street bank, seemed to be spending more time at the golf course as the years passed. "As you start to get older," he would tell Junior, "you realize that the major decisions are made away from the office." Junior never really understood why Senior made so much more money than Mother.
"She'll be back for dinner tonight." Senior continued.
"You sure?" asked Junior. It was a combative statement, made to highlight the unreliability of Mother's punctuality for family events.
"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't sure. We're having dinner at eight tonight. We'll discuss the progress the two of you are making. Wear something nice." he commanded.
Junior's shoulders dropped. He figured dinner was going to be awful.
"I'm going golfing with some very powerful people this afternoon, and I'm taking your sister with me. I take it you've been practicing your swing?" continued Senior.
"I haven't." answered Junior honestly. He used to hate disappointing Senior, but he didn't care too much anymore.
Senior stared at him emptily for a few moments. He then took his glasses off and returned to his paper. "Go help your sister unpack."
__
Mike was a bit surprised he'd managed as well as he did in that conversation. Senior usually had something negative to say. "Areas of improvement." he would call them. The relief he felt was euphoric.
He took his time bringing his suitcases up to his room. Only after he finished did he go see his sister.
He walked down the hallway to Victoria's room, and knocked.
"It's open!" she exclaimed.
Mike opened the door and walked in to find Victoria. She wore a bra and sweatpants as she processed the many suitcases of clothes and other possessions she had yet to unpack.
"Victoria." said Mike emptily, greeting her.
"Mike." she replied coldly, acknowledging him as she continued to work.
She looked like her usual blue-eyed, brunette self, with the exception that she was a bit more toned than before. She must have gathered Mike was hitting the gym via social media.
"Senior wanted me to help you unpack. Big day today on the golf course?"
"He told you about that?"
"Am I not good enough to even know about it?"
Victoria motioned to speak, but changed her mind. She cleared her throat and lowered her head for a moment.
Mike continued. "I guess helping you unpack is the most I can do."
"I don't need your help."
"Of course you don't, you can do it all on your own. But Senior told me to help. So I'm helping." he finished, walking in and closing the door behind him.
As the two had been living with each other for so long, Mike knew exactly where Victoria put all her stuff, as Victoria knew where Mike put all his stuff.
So he began putting her clothes away as they conversed.
"So I see you've been hitting the gym. Seems like an odd coincidence that you picked up when I did. I guess we're competing with that, too?"
Victoria glanced at him for a second, but didn't respond. She just kept working.