I’d gone back to the room after that. My roommates were doing Habitat for Humanity, so I had nothing but time to think. But I spent the whole time with my mind just reeling. The entire day passed and it felt like I didn’t have a concrete thought all day.
Adrienne came back first.
“Hey,” she said and she looked a little shy. I think she’d come down from her little horn-dog high, “Where’s your brother.”
“Home,” I said.
“Cool,” she said and then she came over and sat next to me.
“Yeah,” I said. I was so nervous.
“So I had a weird dream last night,” she said, turning to look at me. I waited her to finish but she didn’t so I asked.
“What was it?” She smiled.
“I dreamed I walked in on you having sex with your brother!” she said and I felt a cold stab in my stomach. She raised her eyebrows though, and I realized what she was getting at.
“Crazy!” I said, “Totally gross!”
“Yeah, then I tried to join in. In the dream,” she said. I nodded.
“What a weird dream,” I said.
“Listen Lynn,” she said, suddenly sounding more serious, “I don’t really know what to think about this dream. I can’t conceive of what it means. But I think it’d be best if I don’t say anything about it to anyone. Do you agree?”
“Oh god yes!” I said and I felt so grateful. I hadn’t even stopped to think about the damage this could do to my life. How could I be so reckless? “What can I do to thank you?”
“We are friends,” she said and she looked at me with soft eyes, “And I was an ass last night. In that dream.” She said. I tried to protest but she shook her head, “Hey, if you ever get a chance to do me a favor, do it and we will call it even.” She said, “And tell Sammy I am sorry.” I nodded.
Adrienne never said anything about it again. I think she was just so embarrassed. Both by what she’d said and what she’d seen. Whatever, I was grateful. And for about three weeks I just pretended that nothing had ever happened. For the second week there, it almost felt like I had. And Adrienne kept her word; she didn’t even act like anything strange had happened.
But now I was sitting in my car in the driveway of my house. I could see the light on in Sammy’s bedroom and I knew he was in there, playing on his computer or reading a book. And I was going to have to interact with him. I’d convinced myself by then that I didn’t lust after my brother. That it had been a one-time thing. But I still had to see him and talk to him. Around our parents. I sighed deeply and got out of the car.
I got all of my bags and things out of my car but I had so much junk I couldn’t open the door. I had to knock on the door. My dad answered the door scowling. Not that that was a surprise. My dad tended to scowl most of the time. I think his problem was that he was just too old to start a family. Taking care of little kids in his late fifties was tough on him. Now that he was closing in on seventy, he was completely burnt out. I hadn’t had a non-business relationship with my dad in about four years.
“Your drive okay?” he asked awkwardly, grabbing my bag and helping me into the house.
“It was fine,” I said. I was still struck when I came home from college how weird it felt to be back. I spent everyday of my childhood in this house, but it wasn’t my house anymore. It was sad. My dad shuffled off to the living room to watch a basketball game and I stood in the foyer, looking around.
“Hey honey!” I heard a voice say. I looked towards the kitchen and saw my mom standing in the doorway. My mom was my dad’s second wife. His much younger wife. In fact, I learned about the same time I went off the college that my mom was something of a home wrecker. My dad had been married to a woman his own age for ten years and my mom was his secretary. I guess it was one of those things. Anyway, while my dad was visibly deteriorating at 70, my looked as young and vibrant at 42.
People have always said my mom and I look very much the same. She also has long light blonde hair and big blue eyes. We have the same thick pink lips and oval face. We even have the same rotated eye teeth. My mom’s stomach isn’t quite as flat as mine but she has bigger, 36-C breasts. Her hips are wide and butt it still pretty firm (I guess that is a trophy wife’s job or something). And even now, right before Christmas, my mom looked incredibly tanned and pretty standing in the doorway.
I walked down into the kitchen and my mom wrapped me up in her arms. She smelled just like she always did, like perfume and flour. I loved that smell. She pushed me back like she always did, so she could admire me or something. She might look young and hot, but she was still a mom. Whatever.
“You look prettier every time I see you honey,” she said and hugged me again, “I’ve missed you so much.” I rolled my eyes.
“I missed you too mom,” I said and I meant it. My mom and I were close friends. I sat down at the kitchen table and she took my bags of dirty clothes to the laundry room and dropped them on the floor. For a while we just talked about school and everything else. She wanted to know about my friends and everything. I tried to play it cool, but I was thinking about Sammy. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer.
“So where is my brother?” I asked and my mom bit her lower lip the way she always did when we talked about my brother. She worried about him. Now I did too, another thing that my mother and I had in common.
“He is up in his room…” she said and looked up the stairs.
“Is he okay?” I asked. My heart was in my throat. My mother seemed even more concerned that she usually did. My mom is a bit of an airhead and she was always a social butterfly, she was always confused by my shy, introverted, intelligent brother. But some of her concerns now might be legitimate.