We looked at each other for a moment, as little as a couple of weeks ago our good morning always consisted of my kissing him on the cheek and dad telling me I was getting to old to do that but then following it up with he would never complain about it. Now however it seemed we were barely on speaking terms. I gave him a forced smile then started climbing the ladder to go up to the attic.
“Hey Megan?” Dad called.
I shook my head. Ever since our last argument I didn’t even get “hon” anymore, it was first name basis. Hell dad had been nicer to Mark the last couple of weeks.
“Yes dad?”
“If you’re going to be climbing the ladder you should be wearing pants.”
I glanced down and realized that my black panties were showing. Good thing I had decided to put underwear on I thought.
“Sorry I didn’t think anyone here was interested in my ass.” I told him.
“Don’t get smart Megan it’s about respect, you remember that word right?”
“Yes sir sorry sir.” I replied. “Would you like me to change?”
Dad rolled his eyes and shook his head. I started to head up when he stopped me again.
“What are you doing today?”
“I have work from one to seven.”
“And after that?”
I bit my tongue and spoke as calmly as I could;
“I was going to see if Betty was around but if not I might keep Mark company at Mitch’s.”
“I don’t think you should be hanging around at a bar Megan you don’t need the temptation.”
“My brother’s the bartender; you think he’d get me drunk?” Before Dad could reply I added;
“Besides Mom said I can go as long as Mark’s there, I mean Christ he doesn’t even let guys talk to me let alone give me drinks.”
Dad looked as if he wanted to keep it going but sighed and said;
“You’re right Mark wouldn’t let you get into trouble.”
So much for can’t lie to me I thought again.
“Who knows,” Dad continued, “If you hang around with him long enough maybe you’ll see what he’s been doing right.”
That was a shot and I wasn’t going to ignore it, but just as I was ready to reply Mark came out of his room. I could tell by the look on his face he had been listening and had come out to stop things from going downhill.
“Well if it ain’t the good kid.” I said giving Mark a fairly convincing dirty look.
“Well good morning to you too sis.” My brother replied.
Ignoring him I started up the ladder when I had gotten to the top I heard Mark call;
“Hey Meg?” “What Mark?” I asked as I looked down at him and Dad.
“Put some pants on will you?”
Trying hard to keep a straight face I looked away and was going to go up, but when I head dad laugh I looked back down and said;
“Hey you two!”
When they looked up I reached down and pulling my shirt up over my hips slapped my ass with the other hand and said;
“If you don’t like it don’t look!”
My father yelled something but I quickly scooted up the last couple of rungs and after pulling the stairs up behind me also pulled the drawstring up so no one could come up. I could hear dad yelling my name so I went over and turned the radio on and cranked it. After a couple of minutes, during which I stood there stewing about how my father had just ruined a beautiful morning, I turned the radio down low and walking back to the stairs let the string back down so it wouldn’t look like I was hiding anything.
Going over to the small fridge Dad had put up there I grabbed a yogurt and a banana and sitting down on the stool looked at my latest painting as I ate. Once again my brother and I were the subjects but unlike the other this one was full size and it was just us. Taking an 8×10 of each of our faces I had cut them in half and taped them together so it was the right side of my face and the left of Mark’s.
I had spent the last two weeks painting that image and when it was finished was once again amazed at our resemblance, with the exception of Mark’s eye color and darker skin tone we’re all but identical. I had shown Mark who had rolled his eyes and complained that he didn’t want to look that pretty so I had painted in the five o clock shadow look he had been sporting lately to make him happy.
Once our faces were finished I had drawn a jagged crack down the middle as if it were a broken picture frame. Putting the empty yogurt container down I opened up a couple of bottles of paint and spent a half hour or so touching up our eyes, lips and also added some depth to the crack. When I was finished I sat back and using red paint wrote the title at the bottom right corner;
Broken.
Once again signing Decosta at the bottom with a sharpie I sat back and looked at the painting. I was going to use it at the next showing at school. As I stared at my brother’s side of the painting I thought back to what had just happened between us. Mark had felt it as well, I knew he had. Question was what exactly was it? I loved my brother with all my heart but it was as my brother. Or was it? After all we had been separated for years so maybe it was different.
On that note maybe it wasn’t the fact that Mark was my brother that made me trust him enough to do all the things I couldn’t with other guy’s, maybe it was an emotion other than trust. My mind now spinning I kept coming back to how damn good Mark felt in bed, not just the sex but the way he held me. It was the kind of stuff you read about in those shitty romance novels. Could there be something between us? Even if there was what could we do about it? Everyone knew we were brother and sister and the folks! They would know I had lied and…
I stopped my mind from racing. I really didn’t know for sure what was going on. After all maybe this morning was just some kind of fluke. Mark missed Krissy and the affection she had shown him and I… well I had never had it and desperately wanted it. Maybe as usual we were just giving the other what we thought they wanted. Then again I thought as I shifted my gaze from Mark’s face to the jagged crack. What if we really were two broken halves to the same whole? What if our hearts fit together the way I had painted our faces?
Closing my eyes I envisioned my brother’s face inches from my own, his lips parted and those amazing eyes staring longingly into my own. In my mind my brother spoke the words no man had ever said to me;
“I love you Megan.” That’s right he would say my name not Sis or my sister but Megan.
Still with my eyes closed and feeling kind of stupid but unable to help myself I whispered the response that I so badly wanted to say to someone;
“I love you too Mark.”
I have to say I liked how it sounded.