"You grew out of that shirt years ago Chris," Chris' mother Tessa sighed, pointing to his tight-fitting, faded Nirvana T-shirt, which now resembled a light shade of charcoal and a disappearing smiley face below a scuffed collar. Chris loved the shirt, and the band, he always would, and the memories he had formed around their music when he had first heard them. He had spent the last year working out on his dad's home gym in the garage, running five times a week, and eating anything he could get his mouth around, so his pectorals had swelled and his abs resembled the faintest outline of a six-pack. When he curled his arm in front of the body length mirror in his bathroom, he felt proud of his biceps and his bulking shoulders, but if he was honest with himself, he was most proud of the developing, coveted v-line that directed its path from the crest of his hips and angled down to disappear behind his low cut Levis'
"I know ma," he replied "But it's an hour's drive and it's hot and I'm comfortable," He scratched the back of his head, plumed with a straight black shock of shoulder length hair as he peered over his mother. He was over six feet two, the last time they checked, tall for an eighteen year old. A 'gentle giant', his mom had called him. He smiled at her, his dark small eyes smiling too. His mother studied his face briefly. She wasn't sure where he got his good looks from, because she considered herself kind of plain and Chris' dad, her husband, was short and bald with a burgeoning spread around his midsection and he wore small, round framed glasses on his tiny aquiline nose. Fat load of good that home-gym did him, she thought. And even though Chris was her son, she was proud of how good looking he was, and she smiled inwardly as he often turned the heads of the women in Shamrock, the town where they lived. His jaw was chiselled and square, his nose straight and thin and his bushy eyebrows kinked near the bridge of his nose whenever he frowned too hard. Like now. Like they did, when he was a boy.
"The bus is going to be arriving in just over an hour, we best get a move on," Chris' Dad Eric announced, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. He was forty-five but an old forty-five, Chris thought. He always wore proper nylon trousers and he possessed a variety of checked shirts, ever since Chris could remember, this was how his Dad dressed. Kind of nerdy, but then, he was an accountant, Chris reasoned.
They were off to pick up Sadie, Chris' sister, who was home from college, for the first time in nine months. Her college was far, about four hours away and even though Eric and Tessa had made a couple of trips to visit her now and then, she was quite happy to stay at college and "adjust to the college life" as she put it. Chris didn't blame her. She'd spent the last nineteen years in Shamrock, which had a population just shy of twelve thousand, middle aged to geriatric residents. It was a small, backward town. It had a single Cinema and a strip mall, with only the essential shops, a hardware, and then various arts and crafts shops for the elderly housewives to display their talents, and a dusty country pub for their husbands. "It was a stereotypical roadblock on one's life journey to the great escape and life beyond," Chris had once reminded a classmate. Their was a single school in the vicinity from first grade to the end of high school, occupied with a few kids from the town, but mostly by the kids of the nearby farmers. They lived on the edge of town, in a middle class suburb, in a three bedroom house. Eric had relocated his outside office to Sadie's old bedroom, after she had moved out and Chris turned the the outside office into his cottage. The extra bedroom inside the house fitted the purpose of a guest room, or Sadie's room, "when she came home for weekends, from college," their mom insisted. That never happened. Now she had to come home, for at least three months, for the summer break.
"So," began Chris' mom turning around in her seat to face him as they cruised along the freeway. "Dad and I were talking, and we decided that your sister should have the cottage while she's here, and you can stay in the guest room. She's older and independent and needs her privacy and you know, we think it's the right thing to do,"
Chris' heart sank. "Ah, come on Mom, Dad, that is so unfair. It's not my fault she went off to college. That's my space, I have all my things in there, not to mention that it doubles up as my studio."
"Well, just take out the things you need, Chris. You won't need to move the bed and furniture, and there is a TV in the guest room and a new bathroom."
Chris pushed himself into the corner of the backseat and door upholstery. He felt agitated. He loved the freedom he experienced in the cottage. He could walk around naked, which he did, and watch porn and fall asleep afterwards without having to worry about being interrupted. Lately he had got into drawing hentai. He had found his mom's old easel easel in the attic, which he propped up in front of the window where he spent hours relaxing and drawing. At first he copied the artworks from pictures he had found on-line, but lately he started creating his own scenarios. He had also developed a fetish for bondage and practised drawing his subjects, bound and exposed with thick, veiny and reddened cocks, thrust into their salivating mouths. He got so turned on that he found it difficult to continue drawing and had to relieve himself from time to time. Now, he was forced to give this all up for his eldest sister, who's existence, he hardly cared much about.
They arrived at the station as Sadie's bus was pulling in. The door opened and the passengers filed out one at a time, shading their eyes with their hands against the sun so that they could spot their rides. Some waited at the the luggage compartment with their suitcases besides them. Chris had his head bowed and gazed into his phone, still studying a drawing technique that he was trying to master. He heard his parents open their doors and his mom call out for him to get out to greet his sister. He got out and leaned against the rear door of the car and saw a girl approaching them. He didn't recognise Sadie at first. She seemed taller than he remembered, she had also dyed her dark hair blonde with purple streaks, and her dress code looked somewhere between goth and nineteen eighties Madonna. She trudged along in black Doc Martens, which came up mid calf, into which she had tucked a pair of black tights, and an over-sized Ramones T-Shirt hung carelessly from one shoulder. Her facial features hadn't changed at all, except for the fact that she wore a heavy layer of black lipstick and pale foundation and the piercings in her bottom lip and nose glistened as they caught the sun. From behind her she wheeled her carry-on luggage which bounced along the rough tarmac accompanying the droning purr of the rubber wheels. She kissed Tessa, hugged her father and brought her carry-on to a halt directly in front of Chris and without looking at him, got into the car and sat where he had been sitting.
Irritated, he opened the hatch of the station-waggon, and tossed her bag into the rear of the vehicle. Tessa scowled at him and Sadie rebuked him saying that she might have had something breakable in her luggage. Chris just grunted as he closed his door, and took out his phone.
"How was the bus trip?' Tessa asked.
"Fine," Sadie answered. She picked at her sleeve and stared out the window.
"Well, we're so glad you're back, we missed you awfully," Tessa smiled warmly at Sadie, who was still looking out the window.
"Speak for yourselves," Chris said under his breath.
