During that week my brother and I spent every moment possible together. Not just sexually. We kissed and talked and talked and learned everything there was to learn about each other holding nothing back.
I learned that when my brother was very young a man had taken advantage of him, abused him sexually, making him do things against his will, things a little boy shouldn’t and couldn’t possibly understand. I was the first person he confided in about this. He refused to say who the monstrous grown up was. I guessed it must have been someone very close to him.
Derek was in kindergarten when it happened, and after that he was never the same. He began stuttering. He studied very hard long hours after school with expensive tutors but some how still managed to barely pass his grades with Ds. It was only by grace of his father’s fortune that he managed to stay in private school.
Without any confidence he was bullied constantly by boys, girls, and teachers. Because of his lack of social skills he was always the one to get detention, not the bully.
When he was held back and had to repeat the seventh grade he was shackled with that hideous nick name, “Retard.” He couldn’t even say the word to me with breaking down in absolute sobs.
I felt so sorry for him. I had to help him. His gentle touches and words told me the worst hadn’t destroyed best. It was still there right under the surface just waiting to break free.
That week I learned what a loving and wonderful person my brother was. We’d stare into each others eyes for hours. The gentle way he touched my hair and graced my face softly with his admiring hand gave me a passion I’d never experienced before.
Our parents were as distant and cold as always. My planned excuse that I was in my brother’s room only to help him study was never used. We could have been running a three rink circus out of the house and they wouldn’t have noticed.
My brother was such a loving person. I didn’t know someone could show such love. “Your so gorgeous Keely. Far more celestial than any of the girls on TV. You don’t even have to try. All you have to do is be yourself. It doesn’t matter what simple thing you’re doing. Studying, drying dishes, watching TV. You look like Venus emerging from the ocean with a full orchestra playing Mozart.” These intimate sonnets from the same boy who just a few days ago was calling me an “ugly” you know what. Ms. Daria was so so right. Relieving his sexual frustration had made so much difference.
“When I see you watching TV and spread out with your legs and bare feet, I just want to run up and start massaging them kiss them as passionately as I kiss your mouth. I guess we’ll have to wait until Saturday. We wouldn’t want to ruin things by rushing ahead.”
Until Saturday. So far away.
Since my brother was old enough to drive we could go to the mall together. I helped him pick out new clothes and how to have his hair cut properly at a salon.
My brother must have spent several months of allowances on buying me new clothes and jewelry he liked me in. The sales people at Victoria Secret thought he was my boyfriend as I modeled lingerie for him in the store and he chose what liked me in best. He seemed to like me in lacy clothes, skirts that twirled about my legs seductively. And shoes that allowed the maximum amount of my feet exposed. Colors of puse, aqua, and lavender. Girlish innocent colors.
“You don’t need layers of makeup and nail polish. It all hides the natural beauty.”
Cleavage or stomach revealing clothes were also a no no. “They make girls look like cheap street walkers. Even in a loose sweater you can’t hid your youthful slender and well endowed figure.”
Whatever made my brother happy. I wanted to look my prettiest for him in every way. He certainly deserved it.
Much of our conversations took place while we cleaned his room which looked like a homeless person’s shopping cart. As Ms. Daria had prepared me, I wasn’t shocked as I unearthed huge amounts of pornography. Videos, DVDs, pictures, magazines, calendars, posters, books, comics, EVERYWHERE! Under the bed, on top of the bed, under his pillows, in between his sheets. In the pages of school books, in his sock drawer, in the pockets of his pants, shirts, and jackets, in his sneakers, under his sink, by the toilet, behind family picture frames, behind his dresser, stacked so high in his closet that it had all tumbled over in a giant avalanche of smut.
Unabashed my brother joked, “Guess I won’t be needing these anymore.”
The flashy imagery wowed my filthy imagination. “Let’s box it all up so it will be there if we ever need it. Who knows? This may be part of one of Ms. Daria’s lessons.” I said.
We had to get some big moving boxes in the basement. It filled thirteen whole brown moving boxes we stacked up in his closet. Far more than all his clothes, toys, comics and DVDs would ever take up. How had he managed to hide all of this!!!?
“Oh and um here.” My brother blushed and handed me a pair of my lace panties from inside one of his drawers. “I took these out of the laundry last month.”
“Don’t worry sexy. You can keep them. I don’t mind. I’m flattered.” I hadn’t decided on a secret pet name for my brother yet so kept trying new ones like “sexy.”
“No really. It’s OK. I don’t need them anymore.” he answered.
* * *
One day at school I went to find Derek. I knew he would be getting out of art class.
“What the fuck is this shit faggot? Everyone knows your too much of a retard to read!”
What was going on? What was I hearing in the art room?
“Those are my science notes! Give them back! Please! I’m begging you!” That was my brother’s voice.
There were five football goons in their lettered jackets bullying him. There were several other students watching and laughing.
“Fuck this shit!” Brett the team captain tore Derek’s notes to pieces.
I had to do something. I grabbed Brett softly by both hands saying, “Hi sexy.” It took him by complete surprise. Then I let him have it full force with my knee.
Brett dropped to the ground screaming and crying. Rivers of sheer excruciating pain were streaming down his face and onto the floor. Green vomit was pouring out his mouth uncontrollably.
To my amazement his teammates didn’t come to his defense. Instead they too were on the floor doubled over in laughter.
“What is the meaning of this!!!” It was Mr. Hackett the vice principle. My heart stopped.
“Brett fell and hurt himself.” I rushed to answer.
“Hummmm? He seems hurt pretty badly. You boys better get him to the nurse’s office.” Mr. Hackett turned around and left.
The football goons picked up Brett by his shoulders and carried him down the hall. His crippled legs dragging limply behind him. “Holy shit. Don’t screw with Retard’s sister.” I heard one of them mumbling.
It was the talk of the school all week. I have no idea of what was fact and what was rumor but Brett was out of school for three days and missed the rest of the football season. There were rumors of how the school nurse had to call in a male teacher to apply an ice pack to his groin. And Brett had to embarrassingly make up a story about a freak accident of falling on a text book.
When he did come back to school he was still limping. Now he was the one being teased. He seemed to be in social hiding. He didn’t even talk to his friends during study hall. We all found out why when he went to give his oral report in English…. He still had a high pitched voice and talked like a little girl. Six kids got detention for being unable to control their laughter even after five minutes of the teacher telling the class to settle down.
Everyone was laughing and joking about it. Boys and girls. “I’m so glad someone finally stood up to that slime ball Brett. Say.. What’s your name?”
No longer, “Retard’s sister” I was “Keely.”
Just as I dreaded, as the week progressed we both found it more and more difficult to part at night and sleep alone. I even counted to foot steps to my brother’s door in my own bare feet. Fifty one footsteps away. But I couldn’t spend the night wrapped in his warm embrace. We had to faithfully follow Ms. Daria’s plan. She hadn’t led us astray yet.
Stay tuned for part 4.