That shuts me up for a bit. Alexis stares down at me, then she shakes her head and sighs.
‘I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,’ she says. ‘You have this wonderful classic face and gorgeous cheekbones. I could spend an hour on you and give men heart-attacks just from seeing you.’
‘Liar’, I mutter.
‘Don’t do that’ she says, severely.
I’m quiet for a while.
‘So what now?’ I say.
‘That depends on you. You’re confined to this bedroom for today, and you’re not going anywhere tomorrow either. Doctor’s orders.’
‘I’ll have to work tomorrow, Lexi. I don’t have time for this.’
‘Nope, you’ll do as you’re told’, she says. ‘I’m eldest and I know best.’ I crook an eyebrow and she smiles wanly. ‘That is, if we ignore today’s events.’
‘I still can’t believe you wanted to see me nude.’ I say.
‘It seemed logical at the time.’
‘How would it help? You’d still be looking at yourself and comparing yourself to an idealised image of me.’
‘True,’ she says. ‘Plan B’. Before I know what she’s doing she’s got her hands on the hem of her shirt and she’s pulling it over her head.
‘Lexi! What the hell?’ I exclaim.
‘Fair’s fair’ she says, and drops the shirt onto the chaise longue.
‘Lexi, please, for the love of God, stop.’
She ignores me as she stands, and starts to unbutton her jeans.
‘Alexis. Please. Don’t do this to me.’ My voice is hoarse.
She pauses. ‘Robs, what’s the big deal? You’ve seen my knickers before. And I need an honest opinion.’
I can’t not look. But I try not to stare. Lexi backs away from the bed and kicks herself free of her jeans, then stands, somewhat self-consciously. ‘Well?’ she demands.
I swallow. ‘Please put your clothes back on.’
‘Look at me, Robyn.’ she says, flatly. ‘I’m asking you to do this for me because I need your help. I hardly ever ask you for anything. Help me, now.’
She turns slowly, posing like a ballerina for me. Her high, small breasts are cupped by her white lacy brassiere, and her panties are traced with lace and bows. She’s lithe, no spare weight, but no muscle tone visible. But it doesn’t matter. Lexi’s ethereal – she doesn’t look like she belongs in our world. Slight shoulders and hips, a perfect neck, and brilliant gold hair falling in gentle waves down to a point between her shoulder blades, which are lightly dusted with a sprinkle of freckles from a pre-teen sunburn.
‘And?’ she asks.
I shrug, helpless now. ‘Galadriel’, I whisper.
Lexi stares at me. ‘What?’ she says.
‘You’d be Galadriel. In the Lord of the Rings. You don’t belong in this world. You’re too perfect.’
‘You’re serious.’
‘Deadly.’ I say, softly.
She takes a deep breath, and impulsively reaches round behind herself.
‘Lexi, what are you… ‘
‘I need a full opinion, Robyn.’
She unclips her brassiere, and lets it fall to the floor. My breath catches in my throat. But it gets worse – she hooks her fingers under the waistband of her underwear and slides them slowly down, bending forward as she does. Then she kicks them free and slowly stands up straight, staring at me. Her deep brown eyes are unreadable. I don’t dare look away from them.
‘You’re totally taking advantage of me.’ I say, flatly.
‘Yeah.’ she responds. ‘I could never have had the courage to do this without you being incapacitated and me being drunk.’
‘You’re drunk?’
‘Triple on the rocks.’
‘Bad judgement drink’ I say, trying to barter a way out of this situation.
‘Only sometimes,’ she responds. ‘Now. My appraisal.’ She puts her hands on her hips, and raises her chin, daring me.
This is a weird and very unsettling side of Lexi that I haven’t ever encountered before. I can read her well enough to usually know what she wants before she thinks to ask for it. To have outright demands made of me is strange. That they’re these demands transcends entirely new dimensions of strangeness that I am absolutely unable to navigate.
There’s a saying that when you’ve got a tiger by the tail, you’ve just got to hang on. And that’s what I’m doing, hanging on by my fingernails and waiting for the mauling.
I can’t help it. She’s standing there, starkers, telling me… no, ordering me to look at her. It’s not my fault, I tell myself. I try to suppress the hot ache in my belly as I look at her perfect, high, perky breasts, her small, beautiful nipples with their tiny dark areolas, her flat stomach, the gentle curve of her belly and the shaven mound of her sex, barely visible between her pale and unblemished inner thighs.
‘Jesus’ I whisper.
‘Do I pass muster?’ she asks, seriously.
‘God, Lexi. You’re killing me here.’
‘What?’
‘Lexi, please. I’m begging you. Please put your clothes back on. It’s getting really uncomfortable for me.’
‘Oh? OH!’ The penny drops. ‘Oh God, Robs, I didn’t even think of that. Uh, let me put my shirt and underwear on.’
She dresses quickly, clearly embarrassed. As for me, I want the earth to open and swallow me up. I squeeze my eyes closed, opening them only when Lexi gives me a brittle ‘Done!’.
—
She’s sitting on the chaise longue again, legs tucked under her, head bowed.
‘I’m really fucking today up’ she says, suddenly, and scrubs roughly at her face with her fists. Lexi doesn’t swear often. I only hear it when she’s really stressed.
‘Not as badly as I am’ I reply, quietly.
She looks up and meets my gaze again. ‘I’m sorry, Robs, I totally forgot about what you told me yesterday. I’m an ass. Please forgive me?’
I squint over at and muster a smile. ‘How could I hold a floor show like that against you?’ Her eyes widen and she snorts, then starts to laugh. I join in. Suddenly, the brewing tension bursts like a soap bubble and is gone.
‘You’re crazy’ I say to her.
‘Cuckoo.’ she chirps.
‘Play me something to help the pain?’ I beg, after a while.
She stands and disappears downstairs, reappearing shortly with her battered cello case. She sits on the edge of the chaise longue, facing me, and rests her cello between her legs. She looks up at me, smiles a small smile, and starts to play as I close my eyes. The tune is rich but sad, at once haunting and yet totally unfamiliar. I’m too sore to try to puzzle out the composer or period; for once my brain lets me just listen. The music fills me, driving out the unbelievable strangeness of the morning I’ve just experienced, allowing me to unwind and, for a moment, forget the pain in my head and the ache between my legs. I open my eyes again and watch her as she plays, her eyes closed as she feels the music, moving in time, dancing her dance with the instrument.
Sunlight through my bedroom window wakes me; it’s clearly late afternoon for it to be shining in here. Lexi’s cello is leaning against the wall in the corner, and Lexi is curled up further down my bed, under a small throw, head pillowed on her arm.
She looks so vulnerable when she sleeps. My heart aches for her as I think about how lonely she must be, stuck here with me. For all her protestations, I think she’d have had a happier life elsewhere.
I watch her breathing. Her cheeks and nose are red; she’s been crying again. This hurts a lot; the idea of her crying while I’m asleep and not able to see, or help, or even just hold her.
I slowly fight my way free of the blankets, trying not to wake her. Everything is spinning a bit, and my head is pounding, but I manage to steer myself to the window seat that my dad built for me. I lie back and close my eyes, basking in the remaining daylight.
Heating me even more, though, is the memory of Alexis’ perfect body and the almost daring way she stripped for me. I chalk that one up to the alcohol.
I feel dirty. I should be able to banish these images of her easily. But I can’t. Sister or not, she’s transformed into my own personal goddess of sex and my mind turns somersaults at the image of her naked in front of me.
I groan. I’m too sore to do a damn thing so all I can do is vainly try to think of other things.
—
Eventually I doze again, only to wake after some indeterminate time as Lexi calls my name. I look over to the bed; she’s rolled over and is looking my way.
‘Hey, sleepyhead’ I say.
‘Takes one to know one,’ she responds quietly. ‘How’s your head?’
‘Unpleasant. Can we go downstairs?’ I ask, pleadingly. ‘I’m going mental up here.’
‘Only if you promise to hold onto the banister and tell me if you feel dizzy.’
‘Cross my heart and hope to be mugged by badgers.’
‘That’ll do’ she responds, and we eventually make it downstairs. Lexi leaves me propped against the door to the lounge while she drags the couch in front of the fireplace; then steers me to it and makes sure I’m properly enthroned with cushions. She starts a fire, then comes and sits on the floor in front of me so that she can lean her head against me.
We listen to the fire hiss and pop as it starts to take hold.
‘I’m sorry for trying to bleed to death in the shower’ I say, after a while.
‘I’m sorry for subjecting you to a sibling strip-show’ she returns.
‘Consider yourself soundly chastised.’
‘Spanked?’
‘Like a red-headed stepchild.’ I shift painfully, then roll onto my side so I’m facing the fire as well. I reach out and run my hands through Lexi’s hair. ‘Seriously, though, stop blaming yourself for it. I’m the one who tripped.’
She says nothing.
‘Lexi?’ I ask, after a while.
‘Hmm?’ she responds.
‘You were crying earlier. Why?’
She’s quiet for a long time, then turns to look at me. Her eyes are dark in the firelight; I can’t read them.
‘Boy troubles?’ I hazard.
She snorts. ‘If only. Just general malaise, Robs.’
‘You’ve never cried because of that before.’
‘I was freaking out about you. I guess the stress all just caught up with me.’
‘Well, you can stop now, ok? I’ve got a thick skull. I’ll have another scar for my collection, that’s all.’
‘You have too many of those already’ she says, turning back to look at the fire.
‘How out of it was I?’ I ask, curiously.
‘Pretty far gone. You were giggling. And going on about sharks.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t you sorry me, Robs. 9 stitches is quite a bump. Doc says it was a nice jagged split (his words, not mine) and it should heal well.’
I watch her. She’s sitting very still, and her voice sounds weird.
‘Lexi?’
She starts to tremble, and then she spins around and grabs me in a fierce hug. I feel her shaking and I awkwardly wrap my one free arm around her.
‘I was so scared’ she whispers into my neck. ‘There was so much blood; I thought I’d killed you at first.’