Three weeks went by without either of us mentioning that night. It could have been a dream if it weren't for the dark looks I occasionally received from my sister whenever Vicky and I were together. After that night, I was determined to make things work between us, to have an honest shot at a normal relationship, one that wouldn't land me in prison.
Yes, prison. Turns out, my home state carried a twenty-five year sentence. There was very little information available on consensual incest, but there was plenty on the non-consensual variety, including a slew of Land and Order: SVU episodes. Everything I learned confirmed my worst fears, and left me convinced that I'd made the right choice, no matter how painful it was.
Jen and I made every effort to continue on like nothing had happened, both in private and in public. But something had broken between us and it became more and more difficult for us to even be in the same room together. The gang still met on occasion at Vicky and Michelle's dorm room, but we went our separate ways more often than not. Vicky and I would go to her room. Michelle, Ryan, and Nick would hang out in the living room, and Jennifer eventually just stopped showing up altogether.
We rarely spoke, even when we were at home. Whole days would pass without either of us uttering a word to one another. I felt like I was going crazy. I wanted desperately to reach out, to touch her, hold her, tell her that I loved her and that when I imagined the future, that she was the only part of it that mattered.
But my sister deserved better than that. Husband, kids, picket fence, and all that. She deserved better than stolen moments and a life of constant fear. She deserved better than scorn, shame, and ridicule. She deserved better than metal bars and an orange suit. So I stayed silent, hoping that this...obsession would pass and the two of us would figure out a way to be a normal brother and sister.
While the cold war raged between me and my sister, my relationship with Vicky maintained the same stagnant pace. Sleep was becoming difficult to come by. Vicky had taken to staying overnight with me on weekends, but I was starting to sense that it was more about staking a claim than it was prolonging intimacy.
Jennifer and Vicky are entirely different as bed mates. Jennifer snores for one. Not loud, but enough to notice. She's a rather messy sleeper too, sprawling across the entire bed, entangling her limbs with my own.
Vicky on the other hand slept like the dead. Silent and still, she curled into a tight ball, affording me so much space I sometimes forgot she was there.
I heard my bedroom door creak open late one night as I lay awake, still in the grip of insomnia. I kept my eyes closed tight, wanting to avoid another whispered argument with my twin. Vicky had every right to be there and Jennifer was just going to have to learn to live with it.
My conclusion, however well-reasoned, didn't make me feel any less guilty as my sister quietly retreated back into her own bed. I tried to put that thought and all others out of my head as gazed at Jennifer's tightly shut door, hoping I was imagining the sound of a lost girl crying in the dark.
As the spring approached, the cracks in the armor became deeper and more jagged. Vicky excitedly made plans for a spring break road trip, one which included the entire group, save for my sister. "Well, I thought she had her own friends now," Vicky explained, feigning sympathy. "I didn't think she'd want to come."
This slight and others didn't go unnoticed by Jennifer, and what started as a quasi-amicable rivalry between the two women escalated to the point of outright contempt, with Vicky getting the upper hand at every turn. Things were coming to a head.
-
By some small miracle, Nick and I were invited to a genuine college party by some guy named Dave. Nick was given a laundry list of alcohol to provide in exchange for his admission, while my sole instructions were to, "make sure that fine-ass sister of yours shows up." As much as I despised the notion of Dave or any other drunken frat boy piece of shit even touching my sister, I thought that socializing with our peers might do us all some good.
The atmosphere in the Vicky's dorm room had grown suffocating since Jen's departure. Michelle was never the most social person, even by our standards, but now she rarely looked up from her computer. Nick and I were forbidden from Halo, Madden, and all other forms of digital distraction when Vicky was in the room, which was goddamn always. Ryan and I had even less to say to one another now that our jam sessions had come to an end. As for Vicky, I honestly kind of hated her.
And so, the six of us made our way to Dave's house. As expected, the place was a dilapidated hell hole, worn down by years of abuse and neglect. But there was beer, and beer can make anything better.
We arrived separately. Vicky and I rode in her car, Michelle and Ryan in his van, and Nick and Jennifer in his truck, thus affording each of us a convenient exit without burdening the entire group. It also had the unspoken benefit of keeping Jen and Vicky away from each other.
Vicky had something of a tomboyish streak about her, which I actually liked as a rule, but clashed considerably with the designated feminine attire of the event. All the other girls were dressed in cocktail dresses of some kind or another. I was actually a little excited about the prospect of showing up at a social function with a date that wasn't my twin, so the fact that we were dressed almost identically, jeans, leather jacket, and Tom Petty/Rolling Stones t-shirts kind of undermined the whole effect.
Jennifer on the other hand looked like something out of a dream. She wore a little black dress, a very little black dress, which basically consisted of a strip of shiny cloth that served to cover her ass and sort of cover her tits, albeit very poorly. I didn't know that she owned such a gratuitous article of "fuck me" clothing, so I assumed she bought it just for this occasion.
Shit, she caught me staring. The last thing I needed in a public venue. She seemed please though, almost smug. I tried to regain my composure with a joke.
"Mug a tween for that get-up?" I asked sarcastically, making a mental note not to state at my sister's cleavage.
"I know, right?" she agreed. "I'm practically spilling out of this thing. They just don't make a decent dress anymore for a girl with tits. I was going for Breakfast at Tiffany's, not Girls Gone Wild."
"You look beautiful Jen." I whispered softly. She smiled brightly at me, a warm genuine smile miles away from stone silent sister I'd failed to grow accustomed to. Naturally that was Vicky's cue to fuck it up.
"Jennifer, nice to see you as always," Victoria said diplomatically.
"Vicky," Jen replied stiffly.
"I love your dress. I bet you'll get plenty of attention wearing that," Vicky said, her eyes glancing down at Jennifer's ample breasts. I never cease to be amazed at a woman's ability to mask an insult with a compliment.
"I know, it's a little revealing. Must be nice not to worry about that," Jen fired back. It was not secret that Vicky's figure was a little on the boyish side, and her manner of dress did nothing to help that fact, but even I had to admit it was a low blow.
"Why don't we get drinks?" I suggested, eager to diffuse the situation. Jennifer, sensing that she'd been offered an opportunity to exit the conversation gracefully, excused herself and faded into the crowd. Vicky and I made our way to the bar, where Dave, at least, I think it was Dave, offered us both a bright red cup full of coldish beer.
Despite early setbacks, the night held some promise. There would be drinking, there would be dancing, and hopefully the combination of alcohol and poor judgment would make Vicky the Ice Queen a little more pliable in the bedroom.
Unfortunately, Vicky insisted on talking instead of drinking, and instead of receiving another lecture on the genius of Albert Hitchcock, I was treated to an angry tirade about my sister.
