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Monday
Mom had the central air fixed. That’s something.
Summer vacation was almost over, not that my summer vacation was much of a vacation. I go to summer school because I want to stay ahead of the game, and I spend the middle of the afternoon working out with the wrestling team. We have twenty returning seniors on the team. Twenty seniors for fourteen positions, and while I’ve always been a first stringer, it’s never been easy.
I don’t know what I want to write about today. My older sister, Diana, keeps making me feel strange. I don’t know if she’s doing it by design or not, but she is doing it. This morning, before school, I was eating cereal in the breakfast nook built alongside the kitchen and to the right of our dining room when Diana came downstairs and sat across from me at the table.
It was early, and she hadn’t dressed for her summer classes yet. A gray and white onesie, of the shorts variety, with short sleeves, hugged her body. Buttons ran the length of the onesie from her neck to her waist. Her cotton outfit stretched over her body in a form-fitting hug. The cotton looked soft. It was the fuzzy kind, and the threads probably felt like air when you rub them between your fingers. It was tight enough on my sister’s body that I thought it was a size too small for her.
Anyway, Diana sitting down to eat was nothing new. People eat, and she’s a person, that’s what they do, but my sister had undone her onesie’s buttons down to the top of her stomach, and the stretchy halves of the top couldn’t come together over her breasts. A V-shape split the upper portion of her onesie to just below her breasts, and I could see the round, inside swells of her tits in a way that shouldn’t have been visible to my brotherly eyes.
“Are you going to stare at me all morning, or are you going to get me some cereal?” Diana asked.
I stopped eating with my spoon halfway to my mouth, the milk dripping back into my bowl from the bottom of my spoon. Diana’s blue eyes drilled into me, sticking me into place. The longer she looked at me, the more stuck I felt–as if I had to answer her question, and there was, I’m guessing, only one answer that my older triplet wanted to hear.
“Would you like some cereal?” I asked.
“Yes,” Diana said. “Go pour me a bowl of cereal.”
You know, getting her water was one thing, and that’s what I wanted to think, but instead, her firm voice forced me to rise from where I was and do as she said. And as I did her bidding, my heartbeat thickened, and goosebumps fluttered across my shoulders. I made her a bowl of her favorite cereal, and I was careful to pour the bowl full of milk to the amount that I’d seen her pour before. I spent more time than I should have in trying to get the milk-to-cereal ratio right for her. When I felt I had done a good job, I set her bowl in front of her and brought her a spoon that she made me clean again, and then I sat down to finish my breakfast.
For some reason, I didn’t take another bite of my cereal until after Diana swallowed her first spoonful and said, “Thank you,” without looking at me.
I didn’t say anything. As she ate, she played with the left half of her onesie. Her fingers dipped under the cotton. She didn’t look at me, but she managed to pull the left side of her onesie further across her breasts, almost to her areola, which exposed more of the sun-kissed roundness of her left tit.
When she got up to leave, she said, “I want scrambled eggs tomorrow.”
Tuesday
I made Diana her scrambled eggs for breakfast. She was wearing a pair of small, white boyshorts with red cherries checkering the front, a low-cut white tank top, and no bra when she came down to eat, and I could see the shades of her nipples beneath the cotton pressing against her thick nubs.
I watched my sister eat as I ate my cereal. I waited for her to say something, anything, that would let me know she liked her eggs–eggs that I made for her. Why hadn’t I made myself some eggs? Anyway, I waited and waited, but I didn’t even get a thank you from her before she left the nook.
I almost threw my damn bowl of cereal back into the kitchen. Instead, I finished it and carried my bowl and my sister’s plate to the sink, where they belonged.
Why was my sister fucking with me?
Wednesday
Not much happened today. Diana ignored me, so I went for a late-night run that left my lungs burning.
Thursday
I had a strange argument with my sister. Diana had come into my room and asked if I had eaten the Snickers bar that she had put in the freezer.
“No,” I said.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said.
This incident happened late in the night, and she had rushed into my room wearing a flannel shirt that she likes to sleep in and white ankle socks. The shirt was long enough to cover her to the middle of her thighs. I couldn’t tell if she was wearing anything underneath, and by that, I mean the hem never rose high enough for me to see beneath it. Not that I was looking. Not really. I wasn’t hoping it would. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t.
“I’m not lying,” I said to her after looking up from her legs. “I didn’t eat your fucking candy bar.”
“Don’t cuss at me,” Diana said.
I got up from my bed. I was about to throw her out of my room when she walked up to me and pushed her finger into the middle of my chest. Hard.
“Don’t,” Diana said, leaning forward as the word left her mouth, and she didn’t stop until her lips were next to my left ear. “Don’t you ever touch anything of mine until I give you permission? Do you understand?”
Heat flushed the underside of my cheeks. My sister’s breath against my ear made me roll my head to the right as a chill cut through my burning skin. Shut the fuck up and leave my room, I wanted to say, but all that came out of me was, “Yeah, I understand.”
“Good,” Diana whispered. “Next time, I won’t be nice about it.”
Then she left my room.
I hadn’t eaten her fucking candy bar.
Friday
Diana ignored me today, not that I noticed until I wrote those words down. My younger sister, Abbey, the eighteen-year-old high school junior, asked me if I’d teach her how to wrestle. I said, sure, tomorrow night. The last thing I needed to do was wrestle Abbey when I wanted to throw Diana through the air as far as I could.
Oh, I think that my mom is seeing someone. She came home a little tipsy tonight and in a good mood, and I noticed that her legs look good in stockings. Should I have noticed that? I don’t know, but I did, so there you go.
Fucking Diana.
Saturday
Abbey is a spider monkey. Her tomboy lifestyle has turned her into a wiry little teenager, and those wires have the strength of steel cords running through them. It’s hard to take my sister seriously when it comes to wrestling–she’s a cute, skinny pixie–but I spent most of the day teaching her how to keep her balance and the double-leg takedown. She surprised me with her grit. Abbey really wanted to learn how to wrestle.
I taught her the kind of double-leg takedown that I prefer. You’re in the setup position, balanced, leading with the trail-leg hand on your opponent’s shoulder, then you snap your opponent’s head down with your lead-leg hand. When your opponent raises their head, you lower your center of gravity and take a penetration step forward while keeping your elbows close to your body, and then you wrap your hands around your opponent’s knees. After, you bury your head in their stomach and explode through their body, putting them on their back. It’s a fun, explosive movement, and Abbey learned it quickly.
After an hour of fooling around in the backyard, Abbey lay on my stomach after taking me down for the first time. (I let her, I’ve always been a good brother to her, even before we got her back from Dad.) She had her head on my chest, her arms around my sides, and her legs beside mine. She asked me if I thought that she was cute. Someone–she wouldn’t say who–had said that she reminded them of a boy. I told her that she was the cutest boy I knew. She laughed, but I don’t think that made her happy. I guess that whoever she had a crush on had let her down none to gently. Jesus, I hope he didn’t tell her that she was too boyish for him. I gave her a one-armed hug when I thought that someone could have said that to her.
When we got up, we saw Diana watching us from the sliding backyard door. She shook her head and went inside. As Abbey and I made our way through the kitchen, Diana stopped me while Abbey continued onward.
“I want you to bring me a bottle of water tonight,” Diana said without looking at me.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“At about ten. Last night I got a little thirsty at about ten, and I didn’t have anything to drink. Knock on my door, so I know to let you in.”
This fucking girl. She was nothing like Abbey, but the moment between us lingered until I finally said, “Fine.” I could have punched something when that word left my lips, but instead, I left the kitchen with straighter shoulders than I had entered that kitchen with, and my posture was always good. Diana was still a bitch, but I don’t know; it’s a different kind of bitchiness that I’m getting from her now.
That night I knocked on my sister’s door at ten sharp. I knocked, and I waited, and I knocked again. She opened the door and told me that the next time I brought her water, to knock only once and then wait for her to answer me. She was wearing a cropped, black tank top made of satin and matching pajama shorts. The top didn’t cover her long stomach, and her shorts looked a size too small for the V between her legs. They made her long legs look even longer than they already were.
“I don’t care how long it takes me to answer. You wait here until I open it. Timmy, do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Timmy,” Diana said, “you shouldn’t waste your time wrestling little girls.” She put her hand on my chest, right above my heart. “They can’t give you the workout you need.” She paused and looked into my eyes as if searching for something. “Do you understand?”
My heart sped up. My breath shook. My sister must have felt the tremors of my body beneath her palm. I nodded my head and said, “Yes, I understand.” But fuck no, I didn’t understand. I only knew that an energy had rushed through me at that moment, leaving me cold yet ready to sprint a mile.
“I want you to bring me another water bottle tomorrow night,” Diana said. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
Diana sent me off, and a grimace twisted my face when the door’s lock clicked into place.
Sunday
The day sucked.
By the time I stood in front of my sister’s bedroom door, holding her bottle of water, I was already trying to control my breathing. She answered the door with a water bottle already in her hand. She was wearing a plain white shirt with a hem that hung just below her crotch. She wore no bra again, and her nipples poked against the cloth, the stiff points outlined in cotton. Her long, slender legs, with their athletic curves, captured the attention of my eyes for a moment. When I raised my head, I knew that my sister had caught me checking her out.
“Take the water back downstairs,” Diana said. “Don’t drink it. Tomorrow night, bring me that same bottle. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to control my breathing.
Diana put her hand on my cheek and caressed me with a half-circle of motion. “I appreciate it when you obey me.” Diana pulled her hand away, feathering my jawline with her fingertips. “If you keep this up, I’ll give you a chance to appreciate me for appreciating you. Do you understand?”
I don’t know if I did, but the smoky look in my sister’s eyes and the slight smile that pulled at her lips made me want to understand her completely. I wanted to understand her right then. God, I wanted to understand her.
“Yes,” I said and left to put the water away, just like she had told me to do.
After writing all of this down, everything Diana put me through seems so stupid, but I can’t wait to find out what’s going to happen next between us. How is my sister expecting me to appreciate her?
Oh, yeah, I saw my mom in a striped red and white bikini today. She’s looking good. Really good. I hope that doesn’t mean she’s going to start dating again. I want to be out of this house before that happens. Mom’s room is right next to mine, and I don’t want to, nor do I need to, hear her moaning while I’m trying to go to sleep. It’s bad enough with the porn sometimes, but if I have to listen to some guy sticking it to my mother… Jesus fucking Christ.
Timmy out.
Next time, on the Anderson Family Journals, “Touching My Sister….”
Thanks for reading.