Of all my siblings, Martin was the most like me, and we had an effortless bond between us. I was close to all my brothers, and although I wasn't supposed to have a favorite, Martin and I had spent a lot of time together. Most of my friends thought it was weird that we hung out so often, given the age gap. But as we grew older, my girlfriends thought it was cool because they all had a crush on him.
Martin's buddies used to get annoyed if I hung around, and Martin wouldn't let me tag along with them when they had something planned. However, he'd let me hang out with him when they were just sitting around in the park, or when they came over to hang out in our yard. He saw no harm in my being there at those times, telling his friends, I had needed to learn to be confident and sociable around boys and to handle myself with them.
I think it helped that I looked older than I was, and I had no interest in hanging out with kids my age. I wasn't shy or short of friends in school, but when I was with Martin, I felt like I could be myself. I'd led a sheltered life, compared to a lot of girls my age, and I lacked confidence when I went out in public, because most of my social life had taken place around our rural setting at home.
Hanging around a large group of adolescent boys meant I heard stuff I knew I shouldn't have had any idea about. I was around twelve when I'd started hearing about my brothers' - and their buddies' sexual encounters. I found out what a virgin was and listened to the boys talking about girls "putting out." Consequently, I'd learned which girls in high school were easy and hot.
Just after one of those conversations, Martin, and my eldest brother Kayden, taught me how a nice girl didn't let boys into her panties. Afterward, what I took away from that conversation was, while it was okay for all boys to take a shot at a girl, it was my job to say no.
At fifteen, I had the body of a woman not a girl. I'd developed early and looked older than my years. I'd never had that slender, boyish-girl thing going on that a lot of teenage girls had when going through puberty and it felt like I went to bed one night and woke up the next day with a pair of 32DD breasts and curves in all the right places.
My brothers' friends sometimes made comments on how I looked, which made all my brothers nervous. Kayden said I was the kind of girl men looked at twice. A "head turner," my dad called me. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I figured they were biased, because I couldn't see what the fuss was about because thought I looked quite plain.
One of my dad's cousins once commented that my green eyes, with their flecks of hazel were "bedroom eyes." My dad flew off the handle in response. His cousin retorted with, "Just sayin'," right before my dad physically threw him out of our house. I never saw that man at our house again after that.
***
Growing up the youngest, and the only girl in a four-kid family, had its benefits and disadvantages in equal parts. Living with three older boys was great training for how to take care of myself, how boys thought and talked, but sometimes they drove me crazy.
Being the only girl, I'd learned to keep house from an early age, and I was organized and capable. None of the males in my family did anything for themselves. All their chore allocations involved being outdoors - stacking the woodpiles, mowing lawns, or washing the cars. My parents both worked, so it fell on me to learn how to use the washer-dryer, the stove, and my least favorite small appliance - the iron. Martin did what he could to help me when he wasn't playing baseball, acting in the local theater, or working his paper route. Martin was the most like me in many ways, apart from him being a boy.
As we headed to where Kayden had parked, I glanced up at the brittle, leafless trees as we crossed the street to his old Ford Falcon car, it was his pride and joy. He'd restored it with the help from our dad and from the age of thirteen, I'd seen more of his legs than his face. He'd spent every waking moment underneath the damned thing, making repairs in the old barn behind the house, where he kept it parked.
"Looking good, Kayden," I commented as I patted the hood, his face lit up as he flashed a wide smile, showing off both of his dimples. He pulled his sleeve down, grabbed the edge with his fingers, and huffed out a breath on the hood to rub away an imaginary smudge he assumed I'd left behind. The black metallic paint gleamed.
"She's still my number one girl, Val." The way he'd said it made me stop and take a hard look at him. Kayden's face flushed a little, and I instinctively knew he was in love.
"Okay ... and number two is?" He pulled on the chrome handle, opening the door for me.
"Get in. I'm not talking about her in earshot of 'Sexy Susan' here."
"Kayden, it's a Falcon, not a nightclub stripper." I smirked and glanced at him, while he slid into his seat and turned the key in the ignition. The car purred to life, and his proudly smoothed both of his hands down the wheel to the bottom of it. He was about to release the hand brake when he turned and looked at me. His brow was furrowed in irritation.
"She's not an 'it', Val," he admonished with an annoyed look, because I wasn't going along with him genderizing his vehicle. Silence fell between us as he began to drive, and I stared out the window at the familiar landscape I'd known all my life, landscape that I'd run away from.
I leaned against the window, and my thoughts turned to how Kayden had always known what he'd wanted from life, and how I had no real clue about my direction. I knew I wanted to take pictures and had been thinking about photography, but I wasn't sure how much scope there was for earning a living taking photographs in our little town.
Cars had always been Kayden's thing. He'd decided not to go to college, and instead took an apprenticeship with our dad in his car repair shop. I'd never understood why it fascinated him to lie under a smelly car all day, getting covered in oil. All I'd ever seen him do was tweak a few bolts here and there.
Apart from my brothers, I hadn't taken much notice of boys until I met Bradley Sutton. I developed a crush on him when I was fourteen and was amazed when he'd asked me to go to the movies just after Valentine's Day that year. I suspected he might have been interested in me when I caught him stealing glances at me every day at lunch. I'd felt his eyes on me almost every day the moment I entered the school cafeteria.
Coleen, a friend and classmate, noticed him as well and began teasing us both. It felt mortifying. Eventually he asked me out. In no time I'd fallen into a deadly puppy love, and I somehow convinced myself we'd be together forever. However, a year down the line Bradley began pressuring me about sleeping with him.
Even though he was my world, I knew I wasn't ready for a sexual relationship, but I understood his need and felt my refusal was tearing us apart. I'd stupidly confided about it to Heidi, my best friend from school. She'd been incredibly supportive, and believed I was making the right choice not to give into his pressure when she agreed Bradley was "selfish for pushing." I never considered she'd snag him for herself by doing what I wouldn't.
Breaking the silence, Kayden smoothly changed the subject.
"Adam and Jim are both playing later. Fancy coming to hang out on the bleachers with me?"
"How's Adam shaping up?" I asked with interest. Adam was the brother closest to me in age. At seventeen and a half, there were less than two years between us. Adam played on the high school football team with his best friend Jim. Both had already been offered full scholarships to a few colleges. Adam was looking forward to accepting his at the University of Chicago.
"Yeah, he's doin' good... closing in on Jim's school record. I think Jim will be relieved when he moves on to college next year. Adam's proving himself to be stiff competition."
As Kayden answered, he swung off the road and down the long, tree-lined dirt driveway that led to our home. We had seventy acres of nothing but overgrown grass, except for the area of well-kept lawn nearest the house. My grandfather, my dad's father, had left it to my parents when he died. The house was amazing; it was more than a hundred years old and stood proudly at the top of a small hill. It felt good to be home.
The rest of our land was as flat as a floor and had given us kids an amazing amount of safety and freedom to play when we were little. Cookouts and campfires were a regular event at our place, and my parents had a lot of friends, some going back to their childhood.
I vaguely remember my father, Kayden, and Martin fencing our yard area. That was when Mom had decided we needed a defined picnic area to accommodate everyone during our family barbecues. As we grew up, home became the safe place for us to hang out and have parties with our friends.
Kayden muttered about the dust the car wheels kicked up from the driveway as we reached the house and he stopped the car. Buster, our nine-year-old collie, came bounding up when he saw us, and his claws made an excited tick-tac noise as he jumped on the window of the car on my side.
"Aww, Buster. Get the fuck down! You'll scratch the paint," Kayden complained.
He started to say something else, but it barely registered with me as I flung open the door and pushed myself out in the direction of my mom. She'd just opened the screen door on the porch and shrieked out to my dad that I'd arrived.
She bounded down the stairs, and we ran toward each other at full speed. We met right as she reached the last step, and we threw our arms around each other. It felt great to hug her. A lump formed in my throat. I'd missed her a lot. Buster tried to get in on the act, jumping up on us; and when he couldn't get between us, he began licking Kayden.
"It's so good to have my baby back," my mom cooed. "You have no idea what it's been like around here as the only female in the house. None of these men know how to put the seat down on the commode, and I have a basket full of smelly boys' clothes to wash every day."
I glanced at Kayden. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled, leaning toward her and kissing her cheek. "One day you'll complain that there's no one to leave the seat up around here, apart from Dad, so enjoy it while you can, Mom."
Our mom's face registered the impact of Kayden's words and her smile instantly fell. Kayden reached out and pulled her into his chest, grinning down at her with affection. "I'm joking, Mom. I'm going to be one of those boys who still lives in the house when I'm fifty. All I'm saying is I may have learned to drop that pesky seat back in place after I've peed is all." Mom's face brightened into a loving smile again as she patted Kayden's chest.
"Now don't you go threatening me, young man. I'm dreading when your father becomes a grumpy ol' man, never mind having the both of you bugging me here when I'm in my twilight years."
Kayden released my mother from his hold and threw his arms around both of us. "Let's get Valerie settled before she remembers what life is really like here. We don't want to expose her to too much before she's unpacked her stuff. I'd hate to have her so ready to leave she'd run to the bus station under her own steam."
I shook my head, chuckling at their banter. I was finally home to stay. The nine weeks I'd stayed at Aunt Joan's place had been quite somber, given what had happened to her husband. Being back here - the one place I felt truly at peace - was amazing.
After we entered the house, Kayden ran upstairs with my luggage and then reappeared in the kitchen doorway as Mom was making coffee. Hanging on both sides of the wooden doorframe, Kayden cleared his throat. "Martin is getting in later tonight. They're driving down this time."
My heart raced with excitement at the unexpected early arrival, and then I realized what Kayden said and thought he may be bringing a girl. "They?"
"Yeah, Martin has a new roommate in his apartment. He moved in at mid-term, and he's bringing him here for Thanksgiving."
"Doesn't he want to go to his parents?"
"He's an orphan or something... I can't remember what he said. Mom?"
Both of us glanced at our mom, who was over by the sink. She turned, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
"His name is Flynn, and stop calling him an orphan. He was in the foster care system. His foster mom died last year, and he moved to St. Cloud's for a clean break from the area. You know what a kind boy Martin is. He called asking if he could bring the boy back to spend Thanksgiving with us. Poor kid was going to be staying alone at college over the break. And, apparently, they have extra time for self-directed study, so it fits in for them to be here for an extra day or two."
Shortly after our brief discussion, Mom asked Kayden to run some errands. Pulling out his car keys, he asked, "Want to come, Val?"
"To be honest, Kayd, I need a shower, and I'm a bit sore from sitting on a bus for hours on end. I'm going to stay here and clean up. I think I'll fill the tub and soak for a while." He nodded and left to do the errands, while I went upstairs and relaxed in the bath.
Twenty minutes later, I got out and wrapped myself in a huge, fluffy bath sheet, then wrapped a robe around that. With a smaller towel, I wrapped my hair turban style and walked over to my lovely, four-poster bed. I slumped onto the mattress and lay staring at the ceiling. I'd been happy to support my auntie in her time of need, but there was nothing like the feeling of lying in the familiarity of my own bedroom.
I must have dozed off and was a little disoriented when I heard Martin's voice. "Are you intending to lie there all night, or can a brother get a hug around here?"
At first, I thought I was dreaming, but when my eyelids fluttered open and I saw Martin, my whole body sprang to attention. I squealed my delight at Martin, standing over me at the side of the bed.
"Martin! I'm so glad to see you. You made it home!" I leaped off the bed and flung my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. I pulled back to study my gorgeous brother, noting his hair had gotten longer. I told him it was a good look on him. In fact, I bet it attracted more girls than even he could have coped with.
"As if I wouldn't? Mom's roast turkey and my favorite girl? I'd be dumb to pass that up. I mean, it's not that far to drive home." Martin smirked wickedly at his use of sarcasm, and I sat down on the bed with my arms behind me.
"You need to get dressed. There's someone I want you to meet. I brought my roommate home with me. He's a nice guy, just had a shitty life, Val. I know I don't need to tell you to be sweet to the guy, but it would make it easier for me if everyone made him feel welcome. I'd like him to have a great family holiday for the first time in his life."
"Jeez, Martin, you'd think we were entertaining the Queen of England," I said, rolling my eyes.
Martin shoved his hands into the front hip pockets on his jeans, and stared at his feet for a second before looking me straight in the eye.
"Nope, he isn't. He's much more important than her. She's got plenty of family, he doesn't. I couldn't leave him in the apartment on his own during the holiday, but now that I've dragged him all the way here, I'm kind of responsible for showing him a good time."
I felt a small pang of guilt for my comment about his friend, and I nodded. Martin smiled widely, grabbed me, and kissed my cheek. "I love you, Beatnik," he said as he left the room. Staring at myself in the long, freestanding mirror, I giggled at the mess my hair was. It was almost waist length and curly, but it had dried under the towel, and I looked like a 70's poster for big hair.
I quickly pulled on some sweatpants and a bra, and then took a checkered work shirt from the wardrobe and popped the snap buttons closed. I finger-combed my hair and put a little gloss on my dry lips. I figured it wouldn't matter what I looked like anyway, because no friend of Martin's would be interested in me, a kid of fifteen. Also, from what Martin had said, it sounded like he had an isolated upbringing and he might be socially awkward, not having anywhere to go for Thanksgiving and all.
Feeling pleased about Martin being home, I hurried downstairs and had just about reached the living room when Mom called me to the kitchen.
"Valerie, is that you? Can you come here and carry a tray for me?"
Pushing the door to the kitchen open, I saw Mom had made sodas and coffees for everyone. A huge coffee cake was on another tray with small cake forks.
I smirked and wondered what Martin's friend Flynn would make of my mom's afternoon coffee. At twenty, I imagined he'd rather have been offered a beer than a cream soda float, or coffee and cake. I picked up the tray and left Mom shooing Buster outside so he wouldn't eat the rest when no one was looking.
While walking from one room to the other, I concentrated on the tray of drinks in my hand. I was standing in front of the coffee table when a soft, veiny male hand reached out and grasped one side of the tray. Another hand caught the other side in front of me. Long legs, belonging to someone slender and tall, were now within my sight. My eyes continued to trail upward, over the faded denim and taut navy-blue t-shirt, as I straightened. I almost fell over when my heart skipped a beat as I stared speechless at the gorgeous face of my brother's college friend, Flynn.
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