In The Grace of Liars

"Grab one for me?" she asked. Then she added, "I'm pretty wet too."

When I returned, Andi was leaning on the hood of the car in front of the grill. Her hands were splayed out on the hood behind her, supporting her upper body. Her posture pulled her t-shirt tight against her torso and pushed her breasts into the stretchy, wet fabric. A lock of dripping hair hung down in front of her face and curled as the end clung to her cheek. I was struck by how her beauty could be at once wholesome and innocent and yet sultry and seductive as if she belonged in a centerfold -- soaking wet as she was and leaning on the sleek hood of the black BMW.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked.

I walked up to her, towels in hand. It was that moment that I decided -- consciously decided to give in; to surrender to her advances. For days now she had been throwing herself at me. For days she had been wearing away at me, bit by bit chipping away at my resolve. If she wanted me that badly... fine, she could have me. I was tired of fighting this fight; tired of being teased. I needed release -- I needed relief.

"Very wet, but very nice," I replied, intentionally ambiguous.

Andi stood up now, taking her weight off the car and putting us nearly nose to nose.

"I wasn't talking about the car," she said as she raised her arms and draped them over my shoulders to encircle my neck.

"Neither was I," I said. I threw the towels on the roof of the car just before I grabbed her waist and pulled her tightly against me. I sealed my mouth against hers and sought out her tongue. We kissed, tenderly at first but soon we gave in to the lust that was boiling away at our insides and our kissing became more urgent.

I gathered her shirt in my hands at her waist and we broke our kiss long enough for me to pull the wet fabric up over her head. Her bra followed shortly after and I set upon her breasts like a man starved for the flesh of a woman. I pushed her down on the hood of the BMW and devoured her chest. She writhed and moaned beneath lips, encouraging me and urging me on.

She clawed at my shirt and like hers it soon ended up in the dirt next to the car. I yanked down her shorts and they slid easily between her skin and the slick paint. There was no pretense of 'making love'. This was lust. I had to have her and she was giving herself to me. I had to be inside her and she was beckoning for me to do just that. I needed her. I needed to ravish her -- to posses her -- to own her and take from her what she was offering.

Her hands tore at my shorts, popping the top button and nearly tearing the zipper in her haste to free my raging hard erection. I felt the open air on my cock and again I pushed her down to the hood of the car and held her there with my left hand between her breasts. I paused for a brief moment as I looked down at Andi's body, now totally naked in front of me. God but she was sexy. My eyes wandered over her form, from her naked hips to her hardened nipples and back down to her clean shaven and beautifully sculpted pussy.

Andi mistook my appreciation for hesitation. Her eyes pleading as she spoke, "Chris, please! I need you inside me! Please don't stop!"

I answered her by putting the tip of my cock between her lips and dragging it up and down her slit to lubricate my tip with her slickness. She moaned as my head grazed her clit, her eyes closing as she tossed her head back in ecstasy. I wasn't going slow so I made sure there was enough lubrication before thrusting hard into her.

Andi was tight but she was so wet that I slid in easily, her body quickly accommodating my intrusion. I fucked Andi hard -- harder probably than I usually would. She bounced and slid around on the hood of that car as I impaled her with hard, jerking thrusts. I was dimly aware of her orgasm coming and then going and then coming again, her moaning and gyrating broadcasting her experience as I lost myself in the luxurious heat of her soft, wet insides -- feeling nothing but her soft folds embracing my cock to the exclusion of all other sensation.

My orgasm thundered over me like a train, coming on suddenly and without warning and exploding from me with hardly a breaths worth of time to prepare. Goose bumps rose from my skin and my eyes flew wide open as sensation rippled through my entire body. Spasm after spasm, my muscles tensed then relaxed and then tensed again sending my seed deep inside my best friend -- my cousin -- my Andi.

When my head stopped spinning, I looked down at Andi. Her expression was a mix of surprise and relief. She smiled as she stammered, "I've been waiting for that for so long. Wow. That was... I've never..." I guess she gave up on putting words to it -- she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down into a slow, sensual, and tender kiss.

"I love you," she said, looking deep into my eyes.

"I love you too, Andi."

###

Andi went inside to get cleaned up as I sat down on the steps to catch my breath. I struggled with my feelings about what just happened. At the time it felt right. I didn't feel bad about it so much as I just wasn't sure if it was the right road for Andi and I to go down. If things didn't work out it would mean the end of us. She and I had been so close for so long and now I was letting my hormones get in the way of my better judgment.

But I knew now that I loved her. Not as I loved my cousin Andi -- but as a lover; as a partner. With everything in me, I loved her. The thought of Andi with another man made me seethe. The idea of spending the rest of my life with Andi made my heart soar. The shame of loving my cousin in that way made me cower. The ecstasy that I felt when we touched each other made my head swim. Knowing we could never tell our family about our love was a heaping helping of guilt. I felt like I was on an emotional see-saw. I was a mess.

It was in this state of mind that I began waxing the BMW. I looked at my reflection in the dark paint and then rubbed it away into a haze of Turtle-Wax. Moments later I would reappear as I buffed the thin coat of dried paste to a deep gloss. Methodically I worked my way from the front to the back of the car, first one side, then the other. As I started on the trunk lid my muscles started to fatigue and my neat wax-on-wax-off circles started to get sloppy, pushing the wax into the crevice between the fender and the trunk lid.

I looked at the thin line of wax, clinging to the edge of the trunk lid. I tried to stuff the rag between the fender and the trunk but the lines on the BMW were just too tight. I couldn't even get the corner of the rag to squeeze in the crack. I sighed and walked to the drivers door to pop the trunk so that I could wipe the offending wax off of the paint and restore it to glossy black from waxy white.

To my surprise, when I reached the trunk I found my mothers suitcase.

Of course, I thought. She was leaving for a business trip and had packed a suitcase. We found her purse and her car but I never thought about a suitcase. I had put it here myself! Six years ago I hefted this very bag into the trunk of the car for my mother the day she left. It was one of those details that you don't think about. Something you just do and then forget about it as soon as it's done. Who would ever think something so benign and mundane would be significant six years later?

I forgot all about the wax that was now dried on the edge of the trunk lid. I dropped both of my rags and reached for the zipper of the travel bag. Inside, I found what I expected -- clothes, her underwear (she's my Mom so I won't call it lingerie but it was a far cry from the granny panties that I always assumed she wore...) toiletries, a couple of horror novels (Mom was a big Stephen King fan), and one other item. In the bottom of her bag, beneath all of her clothes and other personal items was a small, leather bound book with a clasp on it. I had never seen this book before but as soon as I opened it up, I quickly figured out that it was her diary.

I never knew her to keep one -- of course that's the kind of personal thing that a mother probably wouldn't share with her son. I would imagine it ranks right up there with what kind of undies she wore in the realm of things you don't tell your teenaged son. I quickly flipped to the last entry in the diary which was dated the day before she died. It read:

The guilt that I feel about what I'm doing is making me a little crazy. I'm ashamed of myself for giving in to this temptation. I know we shouldn't be together this way -- all the lying and deception is eating away at me. It's not fair. I finally feel loved again. I finally feel like I don't have to live my life being lonely. But I can't tell anyone. They wouldn't understand and even if they did, it would tear this family apart. I finally have what they all wanted me to have and I can't even be happy about it in front of them. That would make them curious and I don't have a good excuse for not telling them why.

But I love him. I love him more than anything. The time we have together is precious and special and magical. He's my best friend. He's been here the whole time, catching me when I fall and propping me up when I waver. When I'm with him I feel like I have wings.

I don't know what to do. I love him so desperately and I don't want to be without him but the shame and the guilt that I feel make me wonder if it's worth it. And I know if anyone ever found out -- if my sisters ever found out -- they would hate me for the rest of my life. I don't think my heart could take it.

And even now, I'm so excited that I can't stand it. We're meeting at the camp tomorrow. He can't stay the night tomorrow but he's coming to spend a few hours with me and he managed to get away from home on Saturday night and Sunday so we'll have pretty much the whole weekend! I'm weak in the knees just thinking about it.

First it was the purse. Now this. I dropped the book as the hair on the back of my neck bristled. My mind grappled with what I had read. What struck me was not so much that my mother was obviously having an affair with a married man before she died -- but that I could have written that very page myself. Just replace all the he's with she's and it was a startlingly accurate summation of my own feelings about Andi.

We couldn't tell Aunt M. or Aunt Janice about us. We would have to keep everything secret. Forever. We could never have children. We could never have a real wedding. We could never love each other openly and honestly in front of the rest of the world. How angry would they be if they found out? What would Aunt Janice think of me? Of Andi, her own daughter? And Aunt Marjorie would die of shame! They would never forgive us -- just as my mother feared they would never forgive her.

Our family was already fractured. Andi's relationship with her mother was tenuous at best; her father had been persona-non-grata since the divorce. I had already pushed Aunt M. to tears more than once in my efforts to find out more about my mother. Would we be the last straw? The killing blow?

In that moment it became clear to me that Andi and I could simply never be. No matter how much I loved her -- no matter how desperately I needed her -- things could never progress past what had already happened. And what already happened was WAY over the line!

I cried. For the second time in as many weeks, I cried like a child. Only this time Andi wasn't there to hold me and comfort me and be my guardian angel. And I knew that she couldn't be. I didn't cry because I couldn't have Andi. I cried because I let her down. I failed her. I allowed myself to go to this place where my willpower broke and my resolve evaporated. I gave in to my feelings and let her believe that this could happen. I let my guard down and started to believe that these things didn't matter. But worst of all -- and the source of most of my tears -- was that I knew now that I had to take it away from her. I wept because I knew I had to put it right -- and I knew it was going to crush her.

###

When Andi came out of the house I was still sitting on the ground. I had stopped crying but the evidence was there for her to see. Andi, in her way -- that sweetest and dearest of souls came to me offering comfort. I seethed with self loathing as I knew I would have to reject her offers of consolation.

"Oh my God! Chris, what's wrong?" she asked as she knelt by me in the driveway and embraced me as well as she could from her awkward position.

I looked at her with tears drying on my face and fresh ones gathering in my eyes. I couldn't meet her gaze and what's more, I couldn't bring myself to speak.

"It's too soon isn't it? Is it Jennifer? Sweetie if you need time..." her voice trailed off as I shook my head.

"Andi, have you thought about this?" I asked.

"Thought about what? About us?"

"Yes," I said, wiping fresh tears from my face.

Andi turned slightly and sat on the ground next to me, propping her back on the BMW.

"I haven't thought about much else for a long time."

"How long? How long have you been wanting this?" It wasn't a question that was really relevant to anything but I wanted to know.

"Since your Mom. Since my parents divorce. Since I couldn't see you any time I wanted to anymore. That's when I realized how much I love you -- and in what way I love you."

"Since you were fourteen?" I asked, shocked by her confession.

"Yes."

I put my face in my hands. This was getting worse.

"You never told me. Why?"

"How are you supposed to say that to your cousin? There's not exactly a rulebook on it. And what if you didn't feel the same way? What if it blew up in my face... kinda like I think it's about to."

"What would we do, Andi? How would you tell your mother? What would Aunt M say about this? What do you think my mother would have said about it?"

Andi said simply, "I don't care."

"Andi, we could never tell them."

"I don't care," she repeated.

"Do you know what that means?" I asked. I was looking for some shred of amicability -- I needed her to agree with me on some level before I dropped the axe. But Andi sat silent. I don't know if she was weighing the things that I was saying or simply preparing for the inevitable.

"Andi, we could never get married. We could never have children. We could never be together the way two people are supposed to be together. Is that what you want from your life? From our life?"

Now Andi was the one crying. I was screaming at myself inside. I had been selfish and short sighted and now Andi was paying for it. I had caused this. Her tears were my fault.

"You deserve better than that Andi. Our family deserves better than that."

She stood and turned to look down on me. Fitting, I thought. Rage flashed in her eyes and I welcomed it. I deserved it. If it would make her feel better to be angry with me, to yell at me, I would take it.

"Our family? Chris, do you hear yourself? We already know that our family has been lying to both of us but mostly to you. They won't even tell you what happened to your mom and now you want to protect them? From what? From some kind of imagined pain that we might cause by simply loving each other?"

"Andi, I..."

"No! Shut up!" she said through free flowing tears. "This is about you!", she jabbed her finger in my direction. "You can't get past the fact that we're related. You are the one that has a problem with it. You have no idea what everyone else is going to say and it shouldn't matter anyway. This is not about them -- it's about us. It's not like we're brother and sister, Chris."

"Andi, do you see what's happening? This is one of the things that I was worried about and it's happening right now!"

Andi turned her back to me and stared across the lake, arms folded across her chest. I got up and stood behind her.

"Forget for a second that you're my cousin," I said. "You're also my best friend. Who do I have left to turn to if things don't work out with us? What are we left with? Are we going to throw away a lifetime of friendship on a roll of the dice? I thought I was going to marry Jennifer and look what happened."

Andi turned back to face me again. She was still crying but her tone softened somewhat. "Is that what this is about? You're worried that you and I will end up like you and Jennifer?"

"It's all of the things that I've said -- and that too."

"You think I'm going to run off and start fucking one of your friends?"

"No! No, of course not!"

"Then what are you saying?" she asked.

"I'm saying that I'm afraid of losing you, Andi. I'm saying I can't live without you and if we go down this road and something were to happen... I don't want to imagine what my life would be like without you in it."

Andi regarded me with a blank expression; I couldn't read her.

"Andi, I do love you. But I don't think we should keep doing what we've been doing."

Andi's expression softened then. She walked to me and put her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly for a moment before straightening her arms and holding me a distance away from her. She held my gaze for one awkward, torturous moment before releasing me and shifting her eyes to the car.

"It looks good," she said, quietly. Casually she ran a fingertip along the freshly waxed paint as she walked back into the house.

###

After that things changed. Not drastically, just small things. She wasn't happy all the time like she had been before. She didn't come off as sad or depressed; she just wasn't as cheery as often. I don't think she was angry with me but she was definitely hurt. I hated myself for what I did but there was no way to take it back. What was done was done.

Thankfully, Andi started covering herself a little more when we were around each other. Honestly I missed looking at her and seeing her body but I knew where that led and my imagination already had enough floating around in it without the added stimuli of seeing Andi half naked on a regular basis. Also, the nightly buzzing coming from her room came to a stop. I had mixed feelings about the changes but I knew in my mind that they were for the best.

I still thought about Andi all the time. The encounter on the hood of the BMW replayed over and over in my mind and I still went to bed nightly with thoughts of Andi naked and writhing on the hood of the car. Reliving that scene in my mind never failed to turn me on. It was a guilty pleasure. I couldn't have Andi in real life but she remained the subject of my fantasies. The fact that I couldn't be with her didn't stop me from having her in my mind -- and I did so nightly. I could never let on that I still wanted her but truth be told -- there wasn't anyone else that I did want. Invariably, whenever serious thoughts of having a life with Andi would enter my mind, that passage in my mother's diary would come flooding back to me as if to remind me of what already happened; To remind me of a choice that I had already made.

Several weeks passed and things settled into more or less of a routine. Andi and I still talked just as we had for years before but we avoided the subject of romance -- be it with each other or other people. She started using the Jeep more often and I got the registration and title for the BMW straightened out so that I could drive it legally. Before long Andi went back to work at the Black Jack, still mostly pro-bono but I think she just wanted something to do with her time while she waited to go back to school. There was still the issue of paying her tuition to contend with and I suspect she was hoping that Dempsey would find a way to make up for the back pay that he owed her. I kept myself busy working around the house, doing small improvements here and there and trying to get the place updated.

There was also a matter of a once well-used canoe that had succumbed to no small amount of weathering. Since we had moved in to the camp we hadn't had a chance to take the boat out -- mostly because it didn't look like it would float with more than ten pounds of weight in it. I set to the task of reconditioning it in an effort to keep my hands occupied and my mind distracted. Surely it would have been easier and faster to just buy a new canoe but I couldn't bring myself to let go of this little vestige of the past. Somehow fixing that boat was in a way a physical manifestation of the desire for Andi and I to be OK. As if I could somehow heal the damage that I had done to us by restoring an old mutual friend of ours.