A question caught me by surprise-2

“That’s about it. Try not to over-think it. Just talk to her like you
talk to me and you’ll be fine.” She paused for a moment, searching for the
right words. “Look, you’re a great guy. I’m not just saying that because
I’m your sister and I have to love you.” She paused again, and her voice
grew softer. “You make me laugh. You always know exactly what to say and
do to make me feel better when I’m sad, or scared, or angry. I never have
to hide anything when I’m with you. I can come to you with anything,
anything at all and I never have to worry that you’ll think it’s stupid or
petty. When I’m with you, I’m just…happy. I guess what I’m saying is,
don’t sell yourself short. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. The air seemed hot and thick and
uncomfortable and Jennifer just kept staring at me, waiting for me to say
something. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I stammered shakily.

“Anytime.”

Jen’s advice was pure gold and within the week I had a girlfriend.
Vicky’s assimilation into our little band included an extra, her best
friend from high school, Ryan. I was surprised to learn that Ryan was gay,
a fact that made me uncomfortable at first, a consequence of growing up in
the bible belt. As it turned out, reports of the predatory nature of our
nation’s homosexuals were greatly exaggerated and I chucked that piece of
trivia into the pile of stupid things I learned living in a small town.

That being said, I didn’t particularly like the guy. He was kind of
like a male Vicky, although slightly less effeminate and exponentially more
morose. Dude needed to get laid, or high, or something.

Sadly I’d been rather unsuccessful in my sexual escapades as well.
Vicky and I indulged each other in the occasional door room make out
session, much to Michelle’s annoyance, but the physical aspect of our
relationship progressed at an infuriatingly sluggish pace. The best I’d
managed was a little clumsy, “under the shirt, over the bra,” action, which
was more frustrating than arousing.

My physical relationship with Vicky was similar to fishing. It took a
lot of effort to get started, the process itself wasn’t all that
interesting, and I never really accomplished anything. It felt like I was
constantly auditioning for a role I didn’t really want. Jennifer wasn’t
wrong about Vicky being frigid, but there was plenty of blame to go around.
When it came down to it, every time I kissed Vicky, I felt like I was
kissing a stranger. which kind of defeated the entire purpose of the
relationship.

Nonetheless, I persevered. Vicky still had one distinct advantage over
Jennifer; she wasn’t a blood relative. And that, apparently, made her
worth settling for.

I briefly considered consulting Jennifer on the subject, but it was
obvious that to do so would be worse than useless. Jen had become
increasingly…aggressive in asserting her position as sister/best
friend/most important woman in my life. She was almost territorially
affectionate, even in public, to the point of making it slightly
uncomfortable for everyone in the vicinity, especially Vicky. She might
not have been the most warm or affectionate woman in the world, but she had
jealousy down pat.

In spite of these setbacks, our little gang began to solidify,
friendships coalescing around shared hobbies, interests, and personalities.
Video games and stoner humor continued to be the bedrock of my friendship
with Nick. Michelle and I bonded over anime, one of the few interests my
twin and I did not share; Nick and Vicky discussed science in general, and
biology specifically at length. Jen even made a point of inviting Ryan
over to our apartment for the occasional jam session, and I admitted, a bit
begrudgingly, that having a drummer was a vast improvement.

Still, we weren’t exactly one big happy f****y. Michelle seemed to
simply tolerate the presence of anyone other than Vicky or myself. Nick
began making fumbling, half-hearted attempts to flirt with my sister, who
remained steadfastly and deliberately oblivious to it. Ryan and I could
never come up with a damn thing to say to one another other than “One, two,
three four,” and Vicky and Jennifer’s relationship quickly soured to the
point where they were just shy of openly hostile toward one another.

The biggest challenge was the fact that for some reason, I became the de
facto leader of our modest crowd, mainly because I was the only one that
had at least one positive association with each of its members. Naturally,
I got to hear all of the bitching.

“Why do you two insist on fornicating in my dorm room? Don’t you have
an apartment?” Michelle grumbled.

“Do you have to do that here? In our apartment. On our couch? Can’t
you guys exchange fluids at her place?” Jennifer protested.

“I don’t know what her problem is. I’ve never been anything but nice to
her, but she acts like I’m not good enough for you or something. She
really needs to get her own life.” Vicky whined.

“You ever noticed how he just…stays, even when your make it
ridiculously obvious that you’re trying to get him to go home? It’s kind
of creepy, right?” Nick muttered.

Ok, almost everyone. Ryan didn’t complain, at least not to me. He just
kind of stared at people, as if he was trying very hard to read their minds
and enjoying a moderate degree of success. And in fairness to Nick, it was
pretty creepy.

The hardest part was balancing competing demands on my time. My
classes, homework, friends, girlfriend, and sister all fought for
increasingly small shares of my finite time. I rarely spent any time
hanging out with Nick one-on-one anymore, dating was suddenly becoming a
full-time job, and my time with Jen always carried an air of tension to it,
as if she assumed I’d be happier elsewhere.

One night as I was working on homework, Jennifer took to working out the
kinks to “King of Anything” on her piano as I struggled through an English
essay. The topic was easy, but I hadn’t found the time to actually read
the source material. When I finally came to the conclusion that I wasn’t
going to be able to bullshit my way through this assignment, I realized the
music had stopped and my twin had vanished. A second later, a pair of
thin, but deceptively strong arms were pulling me to the ground.

Apparently Jen was bored. Eh, what the hell. I needed a break anyway.
I counterattacked, reaching below my sister’s ribs to tickle her, one of my
go-to moves during our wrestling matches. Overpowering her wasn’t a
problem, but I preferred to subdue her by more tortuous means.

“Stop it!,” she squealed, giggling profusely. “You rat bastard, you
can’t open with that!”

“Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy,” I retorted, continuing my
assault.

“I don’t think this is what the Cobra Kai dojo had in mind,” Jennifer
whined.

“You rack disciprine,” I mocked in horribly exaggerated Engrish.

“****! ****!” Jen yelled through hiccups and giggles.

“Shhh! Someone might actually hear you, you know? Plus, I thought you
were supposed to yell ‘Fire?'” I admonished.

“Won’t they just think the building’s on fire?”

“Yeah, they kind of gloss over that part, don’t they?”

It was at the precise moment that I realized what a precarious position
we were in. Jennifer was on the floor, her legs wrapped around my pelvis
in a vain attempt to keep me at bay. She wasn’t trying to now. Our faces
were only inches apart.

Jennifer stared at me intently, like she was waiting for something. She
reached up, gently running her fingertips over my temple. I started to
lean in. She closed her eyes.

Jennifer and I were thirteen the first time we kissed, just two young
teenagers eager to find out what all the fuss was about. And like
everything else, we did it together. We loved each other, trusted each
other. Every experience we had up until that point that was worth having,
we did together. It made sense, at the time. We were young. We never
considered the possibility that what we were doing was wrong.

Five years later and here we were again. Only this time, I knew damn
well it was wrong. I just couldn’t bring myself to care. Jennifer inhaled
deeply as my lips met hers. She tilted her head, cupping my face with her
hand as she returned the pressure. I could taste her lips, her tongue, her
warmth.

A faint buzzing sounds brings us both crashing back to earth, and I
curse the man who invented cell phones. I couldn’t answer it even if I
wanted to. Both it and I were trapped between my sister’s legs, but it
doesn’t matter. I knew that it was Vicky and I knew that all of this is
impossible and that I’d wake up any second.

Only it wasn’t and Jennifer just kept staring at me. “Jen, what are we
doing?” I asked hoarsely.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, and I realized that she’s just as
desperate and confused as I am. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” she says
tentatively, as if she’s trying to convince the both of us. “It’s not like
we’re hurting anyone. We should be able to have…moments like this.”

Vicky would probably disagree, but Vicky’s the furthest thing from my
mind right now. We untangled ourselves from one another and sat up against
the wall, staring at nothing in particular.

“Jennifer, this is,” I stammered as I looked down at the carpet, unable
to say the word, “people have a word for this.”

“I know that,” she gritted, suddenly angry. “That’s not…that’s not
what this is.” Her shoulders sank and she closed her eyes. “I don’t know
what this is. All I know right now is that I love you.”

She sat there quietly, waiting for me to say something, anything. I’d
never seen her look so vulnerable. I wanted to say, “I love you too,” but
I knew what would follow if I did, and as much as I wanted it I was
terrified of what it would mean. It didn’t help that my damn phone kept on
ringing, beckoning me to make a choice.

So I answered it, and my beautiful, loving twin, sensing that she’d been
rebuffed, fled the room, slamming the door behind her. I knew that I was
letting go of an opportunity, and I doubted it would present itself again.
I just hoped that by doing so, I was saving both of our lives and that my
sister would forgive me.

Three weeks went by without either of us mentioning that night. It
could have been a dream if it weren’t for the dark looks I occasionally
received from my sister whenever Vicky and I were together. After that
night, I was determined to make things work between us, to have an honest
shot at a normal relationship, one that wouldn’t land me in prison.

Yes, prison. Turns out, my home state carried a twenty-five year
sentence. There was very little information available on consensual
incest, but there was plenty on the non-consensual variety, including a
slew of Land and Order: SVU episodes. Everything I learned confirmed my
worst fears, and left me convinced that I’d made the right choice, no
matter how painful it was.

Jen and I made every effort to continue on like nothing had happened,
both in private and in public. But something had broken between us and it
became more and more difficult for us to even be in the same room together.
The gang still met on occasion at Vicky and Michelle’s dorm room, but we
went our separate ways more often than not. Vicky and I would go to her
room. Michelle, Ryan, and Nick would hang out in the living room, and
Jennifer eventually just stopped showing up altogether.

We rarely spoke, even when we were at home. Whole days would pass
without either of us uttering a word to one another. I felt like I was
going crazy. I wanted desperately to reach out, to touch her, hold her,
tell her that I loved her and that when I imagined the future, that she was
the only part of it that mattered.

But my sister deserved better than that. Husband, kids, picket fence,
and all that. She deserved better than stolen moments and a life of
constant fear. She deserved better than scorn, shame, and ridicule. She
deserved better than metal bars and an orange suit. So I stayed silent,
hoping that this…obsession would pass and the two of us would figure out
a way to be a normal brother and sister.

While the cold war raged between me and my sister, my relationship with
Vicky maintained the same stagnant pace. sleep was becoming difficult to
come by. Vicky had taken to staying overnight with me on weekends, but I
was starting to sense that it was more about staking a claim than it was
prolonging intimacy.