This is the most personal thing I've ever written for Lit. None of this actually happened. But some of it could have.
I could have broken the story into parts, but I felt like leaving it as an epic. So be aware. Also, quick warning, this one dips dangerously close to non-consent. Everyone is over 18 years of age.
*****
The whole idea was to keep us out of trouble.
1996 marked my parents' 25th anniversary. They wanted to take a week-long trip to celebrate, but they didn't want us kids along with them. That was fine. But my parents didn't want to leave my younger sister and I alone in the house, either. I was 19 at the time and Rachel was 18. Did we really need 24-hour supervision?
Our parents thought we did, so they arranged for us to spend the week with family friends. We'd known the Callahans pretty much from birth. We lived in the same tiny town and attended the same church. Our lives ran in the same little circles. Enough to make you dizzy with it. My younger sister, Rachel, was best friends with their daughter - a girl the same age as her, named Lindsay. Lindsay's older brother, Nick, was the same age as me, too. Nick and I got along fine, I guess.
Four teenagers - two girls and two boys. Cooped up together in the middle of summer with nothing to do. In a tiny house where we'd have to share bedrooms. Where the parents, both of whom worked long hours, were almost never home.
All this in the name of
avoiding
trouble.
*
My parents dropped us off at the Callahan's house with a wave and a few words. Don't cause any trouble. Andrew, take care of your sister. See you in a week. That sort of thing. Then Rachel and I dragged our bags up the driveway to the house.
The Callahan's home was built into the side of a steep hill with a driveway that was famous around town for being impossible to park in, let alone to shovel when it snowed. We tromped up, dragging our suitcases behind us like they were body bags.
I looked up at the house, expecting someone to come out and help, but no one did. Especially galling, I saw Lindsay and Nick were watching us from one of the bedroom windows as we struggled up to the front door. I couldn't help but keep my eyes on Lindsay. It's fair to say I had a bit of a crush on her.
Lindsay had light blonde hair, straight and thin, that she grew down to the middle of her back. She had an angular face with lips like pink lines, usually curled into a smile. Her body was just as skinny with breasts and a butt that looked like they'd been left behind when she'd hit puberty.
It was funny to me that my sister and Lindsay were best friends, because Rachel was almost the exact opposite of her blonde best friend. Rachel had brown, wavy hair that hung just past her shoulders. Long dark lashes and emerald eyes. But those weren't the things that most people noticed about her.
I hope I don't sound like a bad brother when I say that Rachel's body was the thing boy's dreams are made of. My sister had curves that seemed made for sex, especially her massive breasts. It was like the titty fairy had gone to Rachel's bedroom first, gotten tired, and decided that instead of going to Lindsay's she'd just hit Rachel double and call it good enough.
Not that I ever noticed such things on my sister. Certainly not.
Mr. and Mrs. Callahan were waiting for us at the doorway. They had similar close-cropped haircuts, dark hair with silver threaded through. Both wore blue sweaters and tan slacks. To me, they always seemed a little androgynous.
Very much the opposite of their children, I thought, as the siblings tromped down the stairs to greet us. Despite her lack of prominent features, Lindsay was an apex woman, with deep blue eyes and a face so beautiful it stunned most boys our age to silence. Her brother, Nick, was tall with tight brown curly hair. I knew a lot of the girls at school thought he was, like, to die for.
We'd been in their house plenty of times, but the whole Callahan family still showed us around like we were strangers. We finished the tour by going upstairs. Lindsay led Rachel to her bedroom while Nick took me next door to show me where I'd be sleeping in his.
The rooms were small and similar. They each had thick carpets, dark wood dressers, and little twin beds. What I noticed first, however, was what the rooms were missing: doors.
"We took them out," Mrs. Callahan said carefully.
"The doors," I said, feeling a bit stupid.
"Yes," Mr. Callahan said. I looked at both parents, waiting for an explanation, but no one said anything.
Finally Lindsay, using a voice that I believe was meant to be an imitation of her Mother's, said, "If we can see what you're up to, you can't get into trouble."
Well that made a certain amount of sense, I supposed. Though how any teenager could properly get along with so little privacy, I hadn't the slightest idea.
I went into Nick's room and started to unpack. I unrolled my sleeping bag on the floor near his bed. Carefully hung my clothes in his closet. As I did all this, I noticed another consequence of the missing doors: I could hear Rachel and Lindsay talking. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but still. It was like sitting across the room from them, rather than being in two separate ones.
"Walls are thin," Nick explained, then shrugged. Real talkative guy, that Nick. Explained why we had so little to say to each other.
*
We sat down to a dinner of overcooked noodles and canned tomato sauce. Nick, as expected, was nearly silent the whole time. Rachel and Lindsay seemed to be in on some secret and would only whisper to each other.
So, the Callahan parents lead most of the conversation. Pedantically - with small words and measured voices - they explained the ground rules for the week. Both parents would be working most of the time, so the four of us were left to our own devices for entertainment during the day. There was a TV room down the hall and we were free to use it if we liked. We could also play in the backyard - a space so tiny there was barely enough room to have a catch. They left money for us to order lunch. That was all.
Looking back, it seems odd to me that we ever listened. It's not like the Callahans could check on us while they were at work. We could have left in the morning, looted and pillaged every house in the neighborhood and - as long as we were back in the house by the time the parents returned from work - no one would have been the wiser.
I guess that says a lot about us at the time. Rachel and I had strict parents and we were used to obeying everything to the letter. It never occurred to us to do otherwise.
*
After dinner we all sat around the kitchen table and played Scrabble. I noticed Lindsay kept looking in my direction and smiling, nervously. I didn't mind it. Like I said, I kind of had a thing for my sister's friend. I didn't have a lot of experience with women. Mostly I just watched them from afar which, I know, does not endear you to them. Quite the opposite, sadly.
It was easier for me with Lindsay, probably because I'd known her for so long. She was almost like a sister to me - a sister I could plausibly fuck. So, unlike with Rachel, it was OK for me to fantasize about being with Lindsay. Not that I thought anything would actually ever happen outside the confines of my imagination.
Despite perving on my sister's friend, I still managed to eradicate everyone in Scrabble (I've always been good with words. My vocabulary is both voluminous and multifarious). My dominating victory won me a great honor: I got to put the game away while everyone else loped off to bed. As the family left, I noticed Rachel giving Lindsay a stern look. The tiny blonde nodded slowly, then stayed behind to help. That was my sister: always standing up for me.
