This story is a work of pure fiction. Any possible resemblance to actual events or people is purely coincidental.
*****
I was in the middle of a rather ugly divorce. I guess that when money matters arise, things often get ugly. At some point, I decided that it was too much for me and I moved out of our home, hoping that the distance would allow us both to think more clearly and less emotionally. So I moved back to my parents' and let my wife stay in our apartment until we either signed the divorce papers or sorted things out.
It isn't easy going back to your parents' home at the age of 42, but I had to go somewhere, and since my parents had a large home, it seemed like the reasonable solution. The house had two stories, an attic and a cellar. Downstairs was a big living room, kitchen and my parent's unit, which included their bedroom and a bath. They had set it up downstairs, since they were getting older and didn't want to have to climb the stairs all the time. Upstairs, untouched for some years now, were three bedrooms, a bathroom and a balcony.
As it happened, my sister, Chloe, had already been living with my parents for a while. A little more than a year before, after not being able to find the "right man," she decided to have a child anyway. She was 39, and worried she would never have the chance if she kept waiting. In the early stages of her pregnancy, she moved to my parents', so that she would not be alone in the late phases of the pregnancy and first months with the new baby. A few months later, after a long but safe delivery, Stacy joined our family.
My parents were of course very happy to have both their son and their daughter home again, just like old times. We even got our old rooms back. Chloe had already made her old room cozy again, with a mixture of some of her old teenager stuff that my parents kept, such as the pink cover over the bed and teddy bears on her small couch.
After a short while, I discovered that it was not so bad living there: I was surrounded with people who loved me unconditionally and without judgment, and I got to spend quality time with them, which was something I had not done in a long time. My parents did their best to be considerate, and tried not to tell us how to live or solve our problems, instead trying to just be there for me and for my sister. I helped out as much as I could, and helped sis with her baby - which was a lot of fun for me, since I did not have kids of my own. Helping sis with her baby made us spend time together in a way we never had before. Instead of returning to our relationship of quarreling teenagers, we found ourselves as adults who offered and appreciated the comforts of a caring family member.
Spending time together, Chloe and I naturally got to talk quite a lot, and I learned that despite being single, she didn't go out a lot, especially not after getting pregnant, which meant that it had now been over a year since she had gone out for a fun night. With me, it was almost the same. My marriage hit the rocks and for the past year or so, my wife and I had hardly spoken without raising our voices at each other (let alone go out for dinner, to the theatre or anywhere else a loving couple would go). So, having a quiet, civilized talk with someone was a welcome change for me. I suppose that sis enjoyed our time together as well, because we spent more and more evenings together. After Chloe or I put Stacy to bed, we would often chat over a cup of tea or some light wine, almost about anything, until our eyelids grew heavy, demanding we retire.
"You know," Chloe said one evening as we sat in the living room, half watching some sitcom. "You never asked me why I was still single, being 40 already."
"Should I have?" I replied.
"No, and I'm so glad you didn't. You also didn't try to give me an advice how to find a man, or tell me I should go out more, should do this or that. It's so nice to finally talk to someone who doesn't judge or try to give some stupid advice. Thank you for that."
"You took the words right out of my mouth. Not having someone trying to give me marriage advice, or tell me their own marriage story, is a relief."
I raised my teacup in a toast. Sis did the same and said "to non-judgmental conversations. May there be plenty of them".
"Indeed," I replied with a smile.
She squirmed closer to me on the couch and laid her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her shoulder and we continued watching and talking for another hour.
The next morning, Saturday, I woke up in a good mood. The previous night had been a delightful beginning of the weekend. In such a good mood, I felt that a special breakfast was in order. Fresh pancakes, I thought. Let's see if sis agrees. I went to her room and knocked on the door.
"Just a sec ..." I heard from inside. "Alright, come in."
I opened the door. Chloe was sitting on the bed, which was standing against the wall to my right. She was leaning on the bed back. The blanket covered her up to the waist. She was wearing what looked like a loose white tank, but it was blocked by Stacy, whom she held to her breast. Chloe had a small baby blanket over her left side and the baby's head, to keep Stacy cozy (and herself modest). The blanket fell diagonally from her left shoulder toward her right arm, leaving the right shoulder exposed.
"Oh, morning..." I said. "Is now a bad time?"
"No, it's OK, mornings are like that." She smiled as her eyes were examining me: I was not better dressed. I remembered that in my excitement I had left my room with just my boxer shorts and a T.
"Oops," I said with a smile. "Never mind," I continued. "Just wanted to ask if you felt like pancakes for breakfast?"
"Great idea!" She answered.
I smiled back and turned to leave, but as I was about to close the door behind me, my parents' cat, Fluffy, sneaked quickly into the room.
"Morning, Fluffy", I said.
Fluffy didn't pay me any notice, it seemed that he was chasing something, maybe a fly, since he was jumping all over the place and climbing furniture.
"No, not there, the shelf's loose!" cried Chloe as Fluffy was about to jump on a small shelf.
But it was too late. The cat was already jumping on the shelf containing some pocket books and a few small decorations. The moment the cat landed on it, the whole shelf gave way. Its contents spilled onto the floor and bed, very close to Chloe, but I could not tell from where I was standing if they hit her. With a mother's reflexes, Chloe lifted Stacy with both hands and hugged her tightly. The baby, who was startled by all the commotion, started crying. In her rush movement to hug her daughter, Chloe dropped the small blanket that was covering her left side. Her left breast hung free, now naked to the eye. To my eye. Her brownish nipple was still swollen from the feeding, and it seemed as if it wanted to continue feeding, since a drop of milk was forming on the tip of the nipple. In a man's instinct, which was stronger than I could restrain, I stared at the full nipple, dripping milk, forgetting that it was my own sister's. Fortunately though, I came to my senses quickly, and hurried to make sure that she was alright.
"Are you OK?"
I asked, but did not wait for a reply and hugged her shortly
"I'm fine, nothing hit me."
