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Authors: Kelly Braffet
Tags: Fiction
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Kevin said as he apologized for touching me. The phrase, “I would never do anything to, you know, take advantage of your sister,” came through clearly from the other room. A bubble of nervous laughter burst from between my lips. I’d been looking forward to seeing Kevin, to basking in the simple, obvious glow of his adoration. Hearing him plead with my brother for the right to touch me came close to ruining it. In fact, for no good reason that I could think of, it made me angry.
Jack must have said something that made everything okay, because I heard the door close with their laughter on the inside of it. “Josie, look who’s here,” Jack said as they came into the kitchen. It was early September, the first day that really felt like fall, and Kevin wore the same thing he always did: his black denim jacket, army pants, a T-shirt from a rock concert. He looked so vulnerable and harmless, standing there next to Jack with his skinny body and his skinny arms and his hair that fell wherever it wanted to. It was easy to forgive both of them for everything. In fact, as Kevin planted a chaste kiss on my cheek and Jack said, “My sister makes the best drinks,” there was a moment when I was completely happy, completely satisfied, surrounded by people who were there because they loved me. Then I saw Jack watching me with Kevin, a vaguely amused expression on his face, and I was embarrassed and angry again.
Jack played it well that night. He was his charming self, but beneath his friendliness he was just standoffish enough to make Kevin uncomfortable. I don’t know if Kevin even realized why he felt uncomfortable.
But there we were, playing three-handed gin rummy an hour or so later, when Kevin said, “I was thinking about what you said, Jack.”
“What did I say?” Jack said around the cigarette in his mouth. He didn’t look up from his cards.
“About my dad,” Kevin said. “About the pharmacy.”
“Yeah?” Jack said, as if he’d forgotten the subject entirely. “What were you thinking about that?” He picked a card out of his hand, stared at it for a moment, and then put it back in a different place.
“I was thinking maybe I could see what I could do,” Kevin said. He looked back and forth between the two of us with big, earnest eyes. “Maybe I could pinch a pill or two off the top of the filled scrips. Before they go out. Nobody ever counts them once they have them.”
“If you want to.” Jack sounded as if the whole subject bored him immeasurably. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”
There was a slight emphasis on trouble: slight, yes, but very definitely there. Kevin answered, “I’m not afraid of a little trouble.”
“Never said you were,” Jack said.
I put my cards on the table. “Gin.”
Jack dropped his own hand and grinned broadly. “Martini. Kevin, my friend, would you like a martini?”
The subtext was gone. Kevin relaxed and said, “Indeed I would,” which sounded so much like something Jack would say that I did a double take.
“My sister makes the best drinks,” Jack said again.
By the end of the next week, Kevin was coming up every night, sneaking out of the house after his parents went to bed and staying until two or three o’clock. As far as Kevin was concerned, everything was fine.
But I was worried about my brother. Kevin had brought him a few Valium and a handful of Tylenol with codeine, and Jack and I had taken them and—I suppose—enjoyed them; the Tylenol made me vaguely nauseated but I never said anything about it. Jack seemed bored. Having ostensibly gotten what he wanted, he had less and less to say to Kevin, and soon he was sitting through his visits in silence, watching us. After a few hours he would drift upstairs without so much as a see-you-later. I couldn’t get out of my head the image of Jack sitting alone on his bed, propped up against the wall, smoking a cigarette while Kevin and I shared our fumbling kisses.
Things weren’t
Jack must have said something that made everything okay, because I heard the door close with their laughter on the inside of it. “Josie, look who’s here,” Jack said as they came into the kitchen. It was early September, the first day that really felt like fall, and Kevin wore the same thing he always did: his black denim jacket, army pants, a T-shirt from a rock concert. He looked so vulnerable and harmless, standing there next to Jack with his skinny body and his skinny arms and his hair that fell wherever it wanted to. It was easy to forgive both of them for everything. In fact, as Kevin planted a chaste kiss on my cheek and Jack said, “My sister makes the best drinks,” there was a moment when I was completely happy, completely satisfied, surrounded by people who were there because they loved me. Then I saw Jack watching me with Kevin, a vaguely amused expression on his face, and I was embarrassed and angry again.
Jack played it well that night. He was his charming self, but beneath his friendliness he was just standoffish enough to make Kevin uncomfortable. I don’t know if Kevin even realized why he felt uncomfortable.
But there we were, playing three-handed gin rummy an hour or so later, when Kevin said, “I was thinking about what you said, Jack.”
“What did I say?” Jack said around the cigarette in his mouth. He didn’t look up from his cards.
“About my dad,” Kevin said. “About the pharmacy.”
“Yeah?” Jack said, as if he’d forgotten the subject entirely. “What were you thinking about that?” He picked a card out of his hand, stared at it for a moment, and then put it back in a different place.
“I was thinking maybe I could see what I could do,” Kevin said. He looked back and forth between the two of us with big, earnest eyes. “Maybe I could pinch a pill or two off the top of the filled scrips. Before they go out. Nobody ever counts them once they have them.”
“If you want to.” Jack sounded as if the whole subject bored him immeasurably. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”
There was a slight emphasis on trouble: slight, yes, but very definitely there. Kevin answered, “I’m not afraid of a little trouble.”
“Never said you were,” Jack said.
I put my cards on the table. “Gin.”
Jack dropped his own hand and grinned broadly. “Martini. Kevin, my friend, would you like a martini?”
The subtext was gone. Kevin relaxed and said, “Indeed I would,” which sounded so much like something Jack would say that I did a double take.
“My sister makes the best drinks,” Jack said again.
By the end of the next week, Kevin was coming up every night, sneaking out of the house after his parents went to bed and staying until two or three o’clock. As far as Kevin was concerned, everything was fine.
But I was worried about my brother. Kevin had brought him a few Valium and a handful of Tylenol with codeine, and Jack and I had taken them and—I suppose—enjoyed them; the Tylenol made me vaguely nauseated but I never said anything about it. Jack seemed bored. Having ostensibly gotten what he wanted, he had less and less to say to Kevin, and soon he was sitting through his visits in silence, watching us. After a few hours he would drift upstairs without so much as a see-you-later. I couldn’t get out of my head the image of Jack sitting alone on his bed, propped up against the wall, smoking a cigarette while Kevin and I shared our fumbling kisses.
Things weren’t
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