It wasn’t going to be that night. It was the last day of classes. There was supposed to be a big party at one of the houses, and Teri said she’d be coming home late. I guess she was going to try what Mom had taught her with Kyle. I’ll be honest, the idea pissed me off a little.
I’m not warped or anything. My sister deserved better, that’s all. She never let it get her down, she trudged along, putting on her happy face, dealing with life as it hammered her. Dad’s death, her leg injuries, the therapy, the bullying. As she got older, she had her friends, but not much luck with guys. Acne kicked in when she was 16, if life wasn’t already tough enough for her. By the time it cleared up, I was gone, so I didn’t have that good of an idea what the last couple of years were like for her.
When she got home that night, she was broken, in tears, sobbing her eyes out. I felt too awkward to get involved, and let Mom take her in the back and commiserate with her.
I never found out that night what had gone wrong. All I knew was that it was bad enough for her to stay in her room all the next day. Bad enough for Mom to tell me to leave her alone.
Like I said, Teri deserves better.
* * *
It was the week before Christmas, and all the old gang were back in town. I spent Saturday with some of my high school friends, swapping college stories. It was a good time, and when I got home it was late, and my mother and sister were already in bed.
I confess. I was pretty drunk. Not hammered, but good and buzzed. We hung out in Steve’s basement, and even though he was still only 20, he had a mini-fridge full of beer, and he didn’t mind sharing. When I stumbled into Teri’s room she bolted upright, clutching the covers to her chest. I sat down on the bed next to her, waiting for the room to stop tilting from one side to another. Alright, I was smashed.
“Travis, you’re drunk!” she hissed. “You’re in the wrong room!”
I groped for her hand, holding it in mine. “Don’t b’lieve Mom, she dunno,” I explained, 100% content with the sharing of my newly gained wisdom.
“Don’t believe what? What are you talking about?”
“Girls like it. Like it lots,” I explained.
She blushed, but I was hardly in any condition to realize it. “What are you talkin’ about, Travis?”
“Sex,” I explained. “You’ll fin’ a right guy, he’ll show you. It’ll be great.”
“Travis! Have you been spying on me?”
“No spyin’. Heard you’n Mom. She’s wrong.” It was too difficult to sit up, so I fell back on the bed. It didn’t help much. The room was balanced on a big ball, tilting all around.
“Damn you, Travis,” she hissed, and slapped me. I was a little late blocking the second blow, and turned away, struggling to stand, holding the bottom column of her princess bed.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, and staggered my way back to my room. I almost bumped into Mom, on the way, and she looked at me in surprise. “You’re wrong, Mom,” I told her as I squeezed past her toward my room. “Lotsa girls like it.”
That was all I recall of my big announcement. I know. I’m an idiot. Then again, it’s not like I’m the first person to say stupid stuff when they’re drunk.
* * *
The next day, I woke up late, and my mother and sister were giving we ambivalent looks. I couldn’t remember much of my late night conversation with my sister, and they didn’t seem eager to bring it up. I wasn’t in any hurry to talk about it, especially the way I was feeling.
The weekend passed with each of us feeling awkward, keeping to ourselves. I went out more, the atmosphere at home painful, and hooked up with my old friends. We drank some, but I kept it under control. I was never a big drinker, and the other night when I’d confessed all was about the drunkest I’d been since high school.
We were chasing skirts of course. That was a big part of what being home on break was all about. I was looking for a part time job, but I wasn’t in that big of a hurry. It gave me something to talk about with the ladies – if they knew anyone hiring, any good jobs, if they were working, etc.
My buds were surprised I was doing as well as I was. It was the Rachel and Courtney effect, of course. I was secure in my ability to keep and please a woman. Complex, beautiful women, to be honest. Yes, Rachel and I had split up, but I understood why and that was my decision. Courtney had wanted us to be separated for the holidays, but she was quite successful in making it clear to me she only meant for it to be temporary. So when I spoke with the girls, I did it from a position of confidence. I had an amazingly hot woman an hour away that I could probably hook up with if need be, and a brilliant young sexpot on a loose tether, who I could go back to in a few weeks. I chatted, I flirted, and if I wasn’t an immediate success, I moved on. I didn’t have the time or inclination to work for it.
That first weekend ended up with one of my sister’s classmates giving me a handjob behind the bowling alley, after an extended make out session. I had her dancing on my fingers, thinking about what Rachel had taught me, feeling good when she shuddered through her orgasm. It was fun. I wanted, needed more, but it was a great start to the holidays. She gave me her number and asked me to call. I told her I’d see her around, no commitment, but figured I’d probably check in with her in a couple of days.
When I got home late Tuesday evening, my good mood dissipated quickly. It was a quiet and somber house I walked into. I guess I wasn’t as sober as I thought I was, because Mom, decided we needed to speak.
She sat me down, looking disappointed. “You’re drunk, Travis. This is becoming a pattern and I don’t like it.”
“I’m not drunk, Mom. I had a few beers. Less than half-a-dozen all night. I’m sorry about the other night, I don’t usually do that, but I just needed to unwind a little.”
“You’re twenty years old. If you got caught driving drunk, it could ruin your future, baby,” Mom said, leaning toward me anxiously. “I know we had this talk after your freshman year. You wouldn’t have a curfew, and I’d try not to butt in too much. I’m just worried.”
Damn. No yelling, no threats, just disappointment and concern. I almost wished she’d tell me off. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . .” No, I couldn’t tell her that being home was such a downer, the way that she and Teri were behaving. There was no joy there anymore, and I needed an escape. That explanation would only make things worse.
“I broke up with my girlfriend,” I said. “School was rough last semester. I guess I’m trying to get it out of my system. I’ll be more careful, alright?”