Sexy board game brings two couples together.
****
Brothers and sisters
Husbands and their wives
There’s so much bad stuff
Here. Isn’t it nice?
Everyone in this story is over the age of 18.
***
“There’s no way,” my wife said, acting amused in a way that told me she was secretly horrified.
“I’m telling you, it’s true,” I said.
We’d just finished our first Thanksgiving as a married couple at her parents’ house and we were driving home. The highway was surprisingly dark. Tiny snowflakes drifted down onto the windshield like snowy kisses. I wasn’t in the mood for music, so our soundtrack was solely the low rumble of the car as we recapped the day’s events to each other.
Dinner had been nice, though awkward. Becky and I had been married for a little over a year at that point and the shared family thing was new to both of us. I spent most of the time feeling uneasy and out of place. I’m sure my wife felt the same way when we visited my parents for Christmas later that year.
Still, it wasn’t so bad. Becky’s family was friendly enough. Her Dad buried himself in football. Her Mom made a delicious apple pie. They weren’t the most outwardly emotional people I’ve ever met but in some ways that made things easier.
It was Becky’s brother, Joey, who had drawn my attention. He was a decade younger than his sister and had turned 18 a few days before the holiday. I’d met him a few times before, of course. Joey was a short, skinny kid with an oversized nose and a shock of black, curly hair — your typical high school artist type with a handful of odd mannerisms and a healthy serving of angst.
That Thanksgiving, for the first time, something about him stood out to me.
“Joey totally has a crush on you,” I repeated to my wife.
Becky shook her head. “You can’t be serious, Drew. He’s my kid brother.”
“So?”
“So, it’s gross and wrong and… I don’t know.” Becky tucked her pale blonde hair behind her ear, subconsciously saying that I was making her uncomfortable. “I think the problem is, Drew, that you’re not used to seeing siblings.”
That was true. I’d grown up as an only child, so I was willing to concede that maybe I didn’t ‘get’ the whole brother/sister dynamic. But I’ve seen what it looks like when a guy has a thing for a girl. The way he smiles at everything she says. How he jumps up to help her with even the smallest thing. How his eyes are always drifting to certain parts of her body. Joey was checking all those boxes and then some.
“I’m not saying he’s doing anything wrong,” I said, “I think it’s cute. He appreciates his gorgeous older sister.”
“Gorgeous, am I?” Becky asked. Like I said, we’d been married for less than a year and we were still smitten with each other. Like we couldn’t believe we had this other, amazing person in our lives.
“The gorgeous-est,” I said, “Poor Joey couldn’t help but be enraptured by your beauty.”
Becky punched my shoulder, then crossed her arms, play sulking. “I do not want to be with my little brother,” she said.
And, for a moment, I paused.
Because I hadn’t even implied that.
* * * * *
A year later, we went back to the Wisniewski’s house for Thanksgiving.
This time, however, there was an additional guest: Joey brought home a brand-new college girlfriend. When Becky told me who was coming, I expected some gawky, awkward college girl. I did not anticipate Sierra.
Sierra was a tall brunette, hair down to the middle of her back, with high cheekbones and bright green eyes. She was a freshman, only 19, but she had a woman’s body. Her huge chest looked ready to burst through her striped blouse and her wide hips did the same with her dark skirt. Yet, despite all those curves, her body was surprisingly trim. I’ll admit, I spent most of the evening staring Sierra’s way.
“Drew, could you pass the potatoes?” Mrs. Wisniewski asked, startling me out of my reverie. We were all sitting around the table, food laid out like some grand medieval feast that even a host of knights couldn’t finish.
I reached for the bowl and handed it over. “Here you are, Mrs. Wisniewski.”
She smiled graciously, but I could tell I’d made a faux pas. The poor woman had asked me to call her Carol at least three times that evening alone, but I couldn’t stop myself. My parents had raised me to be too polite, probably.
My only excuse is that I continued to be distracted by the distant Sierra. She was monumental. Magnificent. She dominated the landscape and I simply couldn’t look away.
“Where’s the salt?” Becky asked. If my wife noticed my attention (or lack thereof) she’d yet to mention it.
“Oops, I think I left it in the kitchen,” Mrs. Wisniewski said.
“I’ve got it,” Joey said, and jumped up like his butt was on fire.
I guess I wasn’t the only one entranced by someone I wasn’t supposed to be. Despite the stunning woman he’d brought home, Joey still seemed stupefied by his older sister, Becky. My wife had a decade on Sierra, but with her petite body and elfin face, she was the one who looked like a young girl. Becky’s new haircut, her blonde hair slashed right below her ears, only enhanced that impression.
As Joey scrambled to help, I gave Sierra an eyeroll and she laughed. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who noticed how enamored Joey was with his older sister.
Joey returned, saltshaker in hand, grinning like a fool. Like Becky, Joey was short and thin. Unlike his sister, he’d yet to escape his awkward phase. When he moved, he looked like a spider on a slippery surface, skittering around with appendages akimbo. How he’d managed to pull a girl like Sierra, I’ll never know.
“I’m sorry we’re going to miss your birthday,” Becky said to her brother as he personally delivered her seasoning. “It’s always easier when it lands on the holiday or at least before it.”
“You’re here now, it’s good enough,” Joey said, still mooning. “When you’re born on Thanksgiving, you’re used to being less important.”
“You interrupted the doctor’s turkey,” Mrs. Wisniewski said, “He complained about it the whole time I gave birth. Remember Harold?”
Mr. Wisniewski grunted. The game was on in the other room and he kept trying to watch it around our heads. I guess all of us were staring someplace else that night.
“Sierra seemed nice,” I said as we drove home afterwards. Unlike the year before, it was a warm night, feeling more like early fall than winter.
“I know you noticed,” Becky said, but her smirk said she was feeling playful. “You’re ten years older than her, you know.”
“Tell that to your brother,” I said, “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you all night.”
“Oh God, not this again,” Becky said. She tried to tuck her hair behind her ear. Even though her locks were now too short for it, she hadn’t lost the nervous habit.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t see Joey swooning every time you spoke,” I said.
“I was too busy watching my husband drool over some nineteen-year-old girl,” Becky said, less kind this time.
“You know I only have eyes for you,” I said, and leaned over to kiss my wife.
She gave me her cheek.