PART ONE

I love solitude.

After college, I moved away from home and never looked back. At least I tried to anyway. Putting as much time and space between me and the dysfunctional version of the Brady Bunch was the most liberating experience of my entire life.

It all started out simple enough, though. We were a family of four living just outside the suburbs of a modest second-class city. Dad worked full-time, mom was (quite literally) Susie homemaker, and my sister and I rounded out the clan.

I would be remiss to neglect mentioning our cat, because he was truly part of the familial unit. However, things didn’t end well with Bootsy, so I don’t want to talk about her right now.

Susie and John were married in 1976. Within four years, my sister and I had come along, respectively. Julie in January of 1978 and me almost exactly two years later.

Julie and I always joked that mom and dad must have only had sex once a year. To make it even funnier, we worked out that it’s possible to have both been conceived on or around April Fool’s Day. Wouldn’t that have been appropriate?

It was only years later, during a drunken breakdown one night, that our mother confessed to us that she and our father did in fact have sex only a few times a year. Apparently cocaine can “take the lead out of your pencil”, as mom so tactfully phrased it.

We might have gone the whole of our lives without knowing about dad’s addiction, but being arrested and sent to jail made it painfully obvious to not only us, but everyone else we knew.

Susie left John right around the time of the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion. I remember it specifically because dad wasn’t around for our birthday party a few weeks earlier. One day, as mom was sitting at the kitchen table crying her eyes out, Julie came into the living room to sit with me.

We didn’t go to school that day because mom was in a terrible state and could barely keep herself from falling apart. Julie had only just turned 8, but she was quickly becoming the glue that held us all together.

My sister wasn’t a miracle-worker, so we did miss school somewhat often. However, she was adept at making sure we stayed caught up on our schoolwork so we didn’t fall behind our classmates.

By summer, school had let out and mom was coming around again. Julie and I stayed with our maternal grandparents for a month before eventually being shipped off to our father’s parents for another month.
Julie and I were inseparable, if only out of necessity.

Hindsight being what it is, I realized later in life that being close to my sister was a defense-mechanism against... well, basically everything. She was my rock.

By the time school had started again, mom was dating a nice enough man she had met at church. In our absence, and with her father’s insistence, she had started attending services every Sunday. It was there that she met Charlie.

Charlie was a widower with two children of his own. Stephanie and Alyssa were roughly the same ages as me and Julie. Since I was a boy and my birthday was in January, Alyssa was a year ahead of me in school, while Stephanie and Julie were classmates.

At the end of the school year, mom was pregnant and in a rush to get married, lest she be shunned by her fellow sheep in church.

I tried my best to keep up with the ever-changing situations, but life was happening too fast for me to handle it. Luckily, my sister was always there for me.
My stepsisters didn’t treat me well, but they feared Julie, so I didn’t suffer too much.

Occasionally, she would call me Cinderella when we were alone. I asked her why one day and she explained that I had two evil step-sisters, but eventually, everything would work out for me. It wasn’t a sexist remark, but rather insightful encouragement.

Even in the strangest of ways, she always knew how to make me feel better.

Charlie and Susie welcomed a healthy baby boy into the family the following spring. Stephanie and Alyssa never took to their new sibling, but Julie’s nurturing instincts wouldn’t allow her to do anything but love him completely.

Ever the extra shadow to my flesh and blood, I followed suit and doted over Charlie Junior (AKA - C.J.).

As the years passed, I kept my head down and my nose to the grindstone. Julie kept me in line while Susie homemaker did her best to take care of five kids and a husband.

When John shot himself on Christmas Eve in the year of mom’s Lord nineteen hundred and ninety-five, I thought she might crack.

She didn’t crack, though. She barely even flinched.

If she had gone to the service or burial, perhaps she would have shown some emotion over the situation, but to my knowledge, she never did.

Julie had a minor meltdown after the funeral, but I was relatively unaffected. I had barely known the man, so it made little difference to me. It only hurt to see my sister in pain.

That night, she crawled into bed with me.

After clutching my chest and burying her head in my shoulder, she cried until she fell asleep.

For the first time in my life, I felt like the older sibling. Maybe even something akin to an adult.

Julie had always been there for me, but this was the first time I was able to be there for her.

When I woke up the following morning, she was gone.
Gone, gone.

I freaked out and begged everyone to go look for her, but no one seemed to care.

“She’ll be back,” was all anyone replied, as though she were a stray dog or a feral cat that nobody cared about at all.

Julie did come back a week or so later. I came home from school one day and found her sleeping in my bed, cuddling one of my pillows. I never asked her where she went and she never told me.

The evil stepsisters never deviated from their narcissistic habits. Charlie and Susie both worked to support everyone. Meanwhile, Julie and I tended to C.J. as best we could. He was a smart, funny, and insightful kid. It didn’t help that he was more adorable than a litter of kittens. How could my sister and I not love him?

When Julie and Stephanie departed for college in the fall of 1996, the house felt nearly empty. Alyssa spent all of her time with friends. Mom and Charlie worked constantly. That left me to hang out with C.J..

Even though he was my half-brother, I never thought of him as such. We bonded more and more with every passing month. Everything I picked up from Julie, I passed along to him, whether consciously or not.

By the time I left for college, I wasn’t sure anyone was even going to notice I was gone… except for C.J., of course.

The evil stepsisters paid me no mind whenever they returned home from break. St. Susan the homemaker toiled away at the office while her beloved Charlie did the same. I couldn’t blame Julie for staying away from home when she had the chance to go anywhere else but home during her time away from classes.

I tried to get into the same school as my older sister, but failed in the attempt.

Heartbroken, I wound up attending a state school a few hours away. It wasn’t easy or cost-effective to return home often, so I spent virtually all of September through April at school or with friends.

The only good thing about spending so much time at college was being able to graduate in only three and a half years instead of the standard four.

Stephanie dropped out of college at the end of her junior year due to failing grades. Alyssa was pissed off at me for graduating before she did. It took her 5 full years to get her Gender Studies degree. I had no idea what she planned on doing with it, but then again, I never bothered or cared to ask.

After all was said and done, the five of us kids were out of the house by the turn of the century.

C.J. chose a career in the armed forces to help pay for his schooling and found that he had a real aptitude for military-life. Stephanie and Alyssa had steady strings of failed relationships and dead-end jobs. Julie never volunteered information about her whereabouts, but on the rare occasions I got to see her, she always looked well.

Instead of sticking around the old hometown, I ventured out on my own.

Living alone suited me. It was nice to not depend on anyone except myself. Cooking, cleaning, and shopping for one person was relatively inexpensive. A roommate would have made better sense financially, but the freedom of doing what I wanted, when I wanted, and without consequence, was as I mentioned earlier - liberating.

Until C.J.’s wedding, the only time I saw anyone from the family was during the high holidays - Thanksgiving, Christmas, and every so often, Easter. They were always important occasions to mom, but I somehow sensed that she was always happier once everyone started leaving off.

C.J.’s military brethren made up all but one of his groomsmen court. I was the lone civilian. As they are wont to say in Hollywood, it was an honor just to be nominated.

It was nice to see my brother again, but it was definitely strange being the odd-man out. All of the inside jokes were above my head, and worst of all, I couldn’t keep up with their penchant for drinking.

The bachelor party was two days before the wedding. I did my best to keep up with the younger guys, but I had to bail early and wound up in bed before midnight.
Apparently they were still drinking at 0700 when the bride-to-be shut the party down. I was still asleep at the time, but I heard that she pitched a fit the size of Texas and threatened to cancel the wedding unless every single one of them “sobered the fuck up i-goddamned-mmediately”.....

I was the only completely sober male in the wedding party during the rehearsal and dinner that followed. There was a complete and total ban on imbibing alcohol by any men involved in the wedding ceremony. Even though I was innocent of any shenanigans, I was put on notice right alongside the rest of the guys.

When Julie showed up at the end of the rehearsal dinner, she snatched a bottle of Chablis, two glasses, and pulled me aside.

No one expected her to show up on the day of the wedding, let alone the night before.

We took a long walk and drank the bottle of white wine as we meandered along.

Julie asked a lot of questions, but divulged little. Some things never change.

The bridesmaid with whom I was to be partnered paid me no mind the entire time I had been in her presence. However, when she saw Julie and me walking back into the restaurant, it was obvious that she took notice.

It wasn’t long after my sister and I temporarily parted that Kristen accosted me. The conversation wasn’t more than a few exchanges deep before she asked about the attractive blonde I was with only minutes before.

I laughed and said something along the lines of, “Oh, Julie? Yeah….”

Before I could say anything else, my sister eased up next to me and intertwined her arm around mine. Kissing me playfully on the cheek, she asked, “Hey, sweetie…. Who’s this adorable little woman?”

Kristen was probably my age, give or take a year, but she looked young - maybe 21 at most. There was no question she would take offense to being called ‘adorable little woman’ by an slightly older, yet obviously more mature female.

Unable to formulate a proper response, I laughed nervously.

“We go way back,” Julie informed Kristen.

Not to be totally out-done, my bridesmaid partner extended her hand toward my sister and smiled broadly.

“All the way back to the womb,” Julie finished saying before formally introducing herself. “Julie.”

The light of understanding came on fairly quickly in Kristen’s eyes and the two ladies shook hands pleasantly.

“Nice to meet you, Julie,” she replied. “Kristen.”

Turning to me, Kristen grinned and bade me good evening.

“You’re welcome,” Julie snickered as the fetching bridesmaid strutted away.

I pondered the meaning of her words in silence until they dawned on me.

The time we spent together in the last five years was negligible at best, but Julie knew me inside and out like no one else. It was disconcerting, but at the same rate, no one else knew her better than I. At least anyone close to the both of us.

The day of the wedding was nothing short of beautiful. The weather was perfect and everything was seemingly going off without a hitch. I performed my part with aplomb and even recognized the extra attention being paid to me by my bridesmaid.

Until Kristen saw me talking to Julie, I barely existed to her. Suddenly, everything I said was funny and witty. She could barely contain her giddiness and kept slapping/punching me.

None of it went unnoticed by my dear, sweet sister. At one point, she saddled up next to me and whispered “told you” in my ear. My skin was covered with goosies as I drank in her idiom.

Throughout the night, I did everything expected of me. I toasted when I was supposed to, I danced when I was told, and I catered to the needs and desires of everyone around me.

The reception showed no signs of slowing down around midnight, but too much wine paired with a long couple of days were taking their toll on me. I was exhausted and ready to call it a night.

I scanned the room for my sister, but could not locate her easily. I had no qualms ditching everyone, but I at least wanted to say good-night to her. After all, it was potentially the last time I might see her for who knows how long.

When I finally gave up looking for her, I found myself standing next to the bar. Unbelievably, there was no one remotely close by, so I snatched an open bottle of wine and set out into the hotel corridor.

I didn’t make it five steps outside of the ballroom when Kristen lurched into me.

“I was hoping I’d find you, she exclaimed. “Where have you, uh… been?”

Like an idiot, I grinned and thought of my sister.

“Told ya,” I heard in my mind, then laughed audibly.

“What’s so funny?” Kristen giggled, pushing me with one hand while clutching my arm with the other.

“Nothing,” I replied, then took a swig of the bottle I was holding loosely, spilling some down the front of my shirt.

“I have a room here, ya know” Kristen sang to me.

“Told ya,” Julie repeated in my head. “Told ya! Told ya! Told ya!”

I slung my free arm around Kristen’s shoulders and let her lead the way toward the elevators. My mind was fairly numb, but I was still cognizant of my actions. I knew exactly where this was headed and I was okay with it. She wasn’t fall-down drunk or anything and neither was I.

Kristen punched the elevator button pointing upward and missed the first time. The second time was a direct hit.

She turned and kissed me softly without saying a word. As I leaned closer into her, the doors to the elevator carriage opened.

Dragging me along, I stumbled forward and pressed her petite, sun-kissed body against the back of the elevator car. Regaining my balance, I tried to gaze at her in a lascivious manner, but she was looking beyond me in a state of near panic.

I heard someone hit the door to keep it from closing.

“Get out”, a familiar voice commanded from behind me.

Before I could turn to confirm the identity of the interloper, Kristen bolted out of the elevator and raced down the hallway, leaving me behind.

“Not you”, Julie cooed.

My sister had startled me, but I was relatively calm, all things considered. I went from nervous excitement with Kristen, to fear of being caught off-guard by a stranger, to confused, apprehensive, then saddened, irritated, and other emotions I couldn’t readily explain.

The elevator doors closed behind my sister and she pierced my very soul with her glare.

When Julie grabbed me by the face and neck with her hands and kissed me fiercely, I didn’t object.

I didn’t protest. I didn’t even run... as if there was anywhere to go anyway.

I didn’t do any of the things I probably should have done.

What I did do was kiss her back as hard as I possibly could.