A Little Help

I hated to, but I spent most of the morning cleaning for my sister. I actually got most of it done before she was able to take her bath and make herself beautiful, as she put it. She was pretty cute, I'd give her that, but I didn't really think she'd ever come out of the bathroom looking like a supermodel no matter how much time that she spent in there. I had to admit, though, she was looking pretty good when she came out.

"Do you think you can stand to be seen in public with me?" she asked.

"I don't know. I guess. Maybe you could put a ski mask on or something," I suggested.

"Very funny. Did you talk to Mom?"

"Yeah, I told her I wouldn't be home 'til later," I said.

"Did you tell her about Bryant?" she asked.

"No. She asked about him. I told her that I had no idea where he was and didn't care. She knows I don't like the guy," I said. I wound the cord of the vacuum up and put it back in the closet. "Why don't you just tell her that you broke up?"

Cynthia crutched over to the couch and plopped down. "Ugh, I just don't want to. She didn't like him either and she kept telling me what an idiot he was every time that I talked to her," she said.

"Really? She never said anything to me like that. I thought she liked him."

"We kept it between her and I. I told her that she was wrong and that he loved me and was great and all that crap, we were gonna get married and live happily ever after. Now I gotta tell her that she was right and I was wrong," she said.

"Yeah, it sucks when she's right about things. Sometimes it's better just to get it over with than have to deal with it later, though. I mean, we could tell her that he got killed by a plow or something, but she'd probably figure out that he's still alive eventually. Just call her," I said. "I'm gonna go clean the stairs off and do the sidewalk."

It took me a long time to get down to my Blazer and get that dug out. It wasn't like just scraping off the sidewalk, it was a pain in the ass. I had to scoop and throw every shovelful of snow because there was so much of it. I was getting piles along the sidewalk that were as tall as I was. I had to spend an absurd amount of time on the stairs to make sure that Cynthia had traction for her crutches. I had no desire to have her go down and be able to blame it on me. I worked up quite a sweat by the time I got back in the apartment.

"How is it out there?" Cynthia asked.

"It's fucking terrible. Remember when we made tunnels in it that one time when we were kids? It's like that, only not any fun this time," I said, taking my boots off.

"Well, we don't have to go if you don't want to," she said.

"I didn't just shovel all that so we could stay here. Did you call Mom?"

"Yeah."

"What'd she say?" I asked.

"She said that you had to do whatever I want because even though I brought it all on myself, I'm sad and vulnerable," Cynthia said.

"She said all that, did she? I don't know Cin, I can believe that she said that you brought it on yourself, but that's as much as I can swallow," I said.

"Yeah. She said you were nice, though. I told her that you cleaned for me. She wants me to come home for awhile. I want to, but I don't want to, you know? I kinda want to just handle it myself. Or maybe with a little help from you, I guess," she said.

"That's why Mom and Dad had me. So I could take care of you in your time of need like a trained monkey," I said. I understood what she was trying to say, and I could see that she needed a little help. I didn't think it was a big deal, I hoped that she would do the same for me.

"That's a good trait for a guy. You'd make good boyfriend material. Are you seeing anyone?" she asked.

"Ugh, I'll take care of you for a little while, but you're different. And no, I'm not seeing anyone. It only took you a day and a half to ask me that, so I see you really care," I responded.

"Well, I do care. I figured that if you had anybody serious in your life that you'd let me know. And you mean to tell me that if you were actually dating someone like that that you wouldn't take care of her if she needed help? Please. You don't have a selfish bone in your body. You'd probably have that girl so spoiled that she'd forget how to wipe her own ass," Cynthia said.

"I can sense a certain amount of bitterness here. Look, I'm sticking to my story that I think it's a good thing that Bryant left. Don't compare me to that guy. He was a douche and now he's gone. I'll help you out, I don't mind hanging out with you or washing your dishes. That's as far as I'm gonna go, though. Any personal hygiene is up to you," I said.

"I'm not trying to compare you to Bryant, but I can if I want. I am bitter. He left me and I loved him. If he was just a little bit like you, then he could have waited a couple of weeks or at least given me a good reason why he wanted to leave. 'Oh, uh, It's not working out. Have a nice life.' That just fucking sucks! You were right. Mom was right. Sorry," Cynthia said. It was an awful, awkward moment, mainly because she started to cry.

"Hey. Hey, Cin. Come on, now..." I began.

Cynthia slammed her hand down on the table. "And now I'm all alone and I can't call anyone because I spent all my time with him and I'm not close to anyone, and, and, it just sucks," she sobbed.

I didn't know what else to do than to walk over and put a hand on my sister's shoulder. I'd never seen anyone have an emotional breakdown before, except for on television. I actually felt pain for her at that point that I had never expected to. Sure I had felt sorry that her boyfriend left, and I'd seen her cry tons of times during our lives. Stung by a bee, hit in the face by a softball. That sort of thing. It wasn't like this, though. She was hurting. I went from a hand on her shoulder to hugging her from behind while she sat in the kitchen chair.

"You're not alone, Cin. It sucks, I know, but you're not alone. You'll be fine. You're sweet and you're pretty, and if you want to cry about it, go ahead. I won't tell Mom," I said. It was hurting me to my core to see my sister cry like that, I couldn't stand it.

Cynthia must have been out of words at that point because all she could do was sob. I ended up sitting beside her so that she could literally cry on my shoulder. I didn't even think that was a real thing until it actually happened. By the time that she had finally gotten it out of her system, I felt like crying myself.

"I'm sorry, Darren. I don't know where that came from," she said, wiping tears from her cheek.

"That's okay. Just don't do it at the store, alright?"

"Okay," she said. "You really are nice to me, you know."

I sighed and smiled. "Why wouldn't I be? Are you about ready to go?"

Getting Cynthia from her apartment to my vehicle wasn't too bad. My worst nightmare was her slipping on the steps, but she was pretty steady. Not too bad considering that she looked like a drunken clown on stilts when she tooled around on her crutches. We went to Wegman's, a big supermarket in the area. Cin was able to make her way around the store on a scooter while I put everything she wanted into a cart. Going back up her steps was a lot more difficult.

"Cin, I think staring at your ass is great and all, but come on, get up there," I said. I was standing behind Cynthia going back up the stairs to her apartment. I didn't want her to fall backwards.

"I'm glad you like my ass, but this is hard," she bitched.

Eventually, she made it to the top and unlocked the door. She sat and rested in a kitchen chair while I brought the groceries in. I didn't think much about it until she spoke again.

"Were you picking on my butt?" she asked.

"What? I wasn't. I said it's great," I said, setting some bags on the counter.

"That's kind of weird isn't it?"

"That I said you have a great ass? Kind of hard not to notice something like that, you know?"

"You don't think I'm too fat?" At this point, I realized that Cynthia was trying to have a serious discussion about her body. She'd already had one breakdown that day, and I had no real idea where she was mentally.

"You're not fat at all, don't be foolish," I told her.

"But look at my flab," she said, jiggling her stomach at me. She had a little bit of a belly there, I had to admit. Wasn't anything to lose sleep over, though.

"What? You want to look like a chick on a mascara commercial that's about two days away from starvation? You've got to give a guy something to grab onto," I said.

Apparently, those weren't the words to warm her heart. Cynthia wiggled out of her jacket and pointed her hands to gesture at her body. "Nobody's gonna want to grab onto this. I had to practically beg Bryant to touch me."

"Come on, Cin, let's not talk about him. He's not a good example of a man or a boyfriend, or anything really. I don't even consider him a real person. Your body is fine, you're a cute girl, there's plenty of men that wouldn't think twice about it. I bet there's plenty of men that would feel lucky as hell to have someone like you," I said. I loved Cynthia, but I was hoping that I wouldn't have to spend the rest of the night trying to think of nice things to say about her. Not really one of my strong points. At least she smiled.

"You're sweet, Darren. Thanks for trying to cheer me up. You got school tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. My social science teacher's a communist. I'm gonna have to listen to him preach for about three hours, then I've got econ and math in the afternoon," I told her.

"You're still gonna stay and eat, though, right?"

"Yeah. I didn't do all that cleaning and sweet talk for nothing," I said.

"Don't be a brat. I'll get started then, so you can get home," Cynthia said.

I helped with dinner, actually learned how to make lasagna. I love the stuff, but in reality I'm just too lazy ever to make it. Cin and I hung out in the kitchen while it baked in the oven, cleaning up our mess and talking. We had our dinner, which was pretty awesome, I made a pig of myself and ate two huge plates of it.

"That was great, thank you," I told my sister, sitting back in my chair and rubbing my stomach.

"Thanks. You made most of it, you know. I like it like that, Byrant never ate anything with meat in it, so it's been awhile since I've made it. The first thing I did when he left was eat a hamburger," Cynthia said.

"Heh, what a douche. Want me to do the dishes?" I asked.

"You've done enough, Darren. Now that I feel like getting off the couch again, I'll probably get around to doing them. Um, will you come visit me again?" she asked.

"Sure. Do you need something?" I asked.

"No, not really. I know you're probably busy. I just kind of like having you around, I guess. I know you didn't really want to get stuck here," she said.

"Well, it wasn't what I expected to do, that's for sure. Are you gonna be okay?" I asked.

"Sure. Thanks for everything, Darren. I'll see you," Cynthia told me.

For some reason, I was hit with an almost overwhelming desire to stay. My sister was smiling, but I kind of got the feeling that she was sad that I was about to go. I just wanted to...be with her, I guess. Thing was, I didn't have any clothes or my books or anything. I settled for a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Well, call me if you need me. And whatever you do, don't let Bryant back in here. He doesn't deserve you, and I wouldn't be able to stand it if he comes crawling back."

"Oh, you can tell me who to date now?" she asked.

"Yes. Do you promise you won't let that little puke back into your life?" I asked.

"I promise," she said.

"Good. See ya, Cin."

*****

I was interrogated for quite awhile that evening by my mother about Cynthia, but I managed to convince the woman that my sister wasn't a complete mess. I left out the part about her screaming and crying. Our mother was pretty great, but she didn't need to know every single thing about us every second.

School the next day sucked like it always did, but eventually it was over. When I got home, I started working on my homework, but my mind kept drifting toward Cynthia. She was probably sitting alone in her apartment, thinking about getting a cat and turning into a spinster. I decided to call her.

"Hey, what's going on?" she greeted.

"Nothing. Just working on some math that I'll probably never use again once this class is over. I thought I'd see how you were doing."

"I'm okay, I guess. Bored."

"I thought maybe I could come over tomorrow, if you're not busy," I said.

"You can come over whenever you want. I'm never busy. Darren?"

"What?"

"You might think it's kind of stupid, but I kind of missed you today," she told me.

"It's because I'm awesome. I'll stop by after school, okay?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow."

*****

I knocked on Cynthia's door, carrying a pizza I picked up from a place by my campus. It wasn't the greatest, but it was cheap so that made it taste a little better. I heard the door unlock and Cynthia opened it, waving me in.

"Pizza? I told you you'd make good boyfriend material," Cynthia said.

"Is that all it takes to win your heart?" I asked, stepping inside.

"Well, it helps."

After we shared a few slices, Cynthia had me change a light bulb in the ceiling lamp of her bedroom. She was short to begin with and would have had to climb to the top of a step stool to reach it, something that she wasn't interested in attempting in her current state. As I climbed the stool and began to unscrew the shade, I saw Cynthia move over toward her dresser. She slammed a drawer closed, then leaned against it as though she was guarding something.

"Whatcha got in there?" I asked. I didn't really care, but it seemed suspicious.

"Nothing."

Now I knew that there was something in there that she didn't want me to see. "Oh? It's not where you keep your drugs or your giant dildo collection?"

"Darren! I don't do drugs," Cynthia told me, moving over to sit on her bed.

"Just your sex toys, then?" I asked, unscrewing the blown bulb.

"Just fix the light, perv."

"Heh, you brought it on yourself. Some people have a perfectly vibrant sex life by themselves. Nothing to be ashamed of," I said.

"You should know, I guess. I'm not ashamed of anything. The only thing in that drawer is my underwear. Just because your life revolves around masturbation, it doesn't mean that mine does. And just so you know, screwing in that light bulb doesn't count toward losing your virginity just because you can use the word 'screwing' to describe what you're doing."

"Hey, leave me out of this. I'm trying to pick on you, don't try to spin this around," I said. I put the shade back on and climbed off the stool.

"How often do you do it? I read that sometimes boys do it a couple times a day. Is that true?" Cynthia wondered.

"Come on, Cin. I'm sorry, okay?"

"You started it. I really want to know. I'm curious. How often do you take little Darren out for a vigorous rubbing?"

Cynthia was obviously out of whatever funk that she was in the last time that I had been over to see her. It was nice to see her not so depressed, though her line of questioning was getting a bit personal. I suppose that I did bring it on myself, but I figured it would have ended before it got to that point.

"What kind of stuff are you reading, anyway?"

"I'm trying to understand how a guy's mind works. What turns them on, you know? And you didn't answer my question about little Darren," Cynthia said.

"I don't want to talk about my penis, and I definitely don't want you calling it little Darren. If you're wondering what turns guys on, I don't have a good answer for that. Just about anything, really." I said.

"You're no help at all, Darren," she said, flopping back on her bed. "I'm just trying to figure out how to keep someone interested, you know? What do you look for in a woman?"

"God, I don't know, Cin. I'm not picky. They've just got to be able to stand to be around me, I guess. If they want to let me have sex, that's about as good as it gets."

"That doesn't paint much of a picture. I guess I'll just never know. Forget it," she said.

"What? I'm a little lost here. What do you want to know? Are you afraid that you can't turn someone on?" I asked. Whatever kind of messed up relationship that she'd had with Bryant had really screwed with her brain.

"A little, maybe," she said. Her voice was soft and cautious.

"That's ridiculous, you don't have to worry about that. Look at you, laying there sexy as hell. You're turning me on a little bit and that's not even supposed to happen. If you weren't my sister, I'd probably be going crazy right now," I said. I may have said a little more than what I had intended, but it was true. Cynthia wasn't wearing anything extraordinarily sexy, just shorts and an old shirt. The way she was laying there, however, was inviting. Her shorts were riding high on her thighs, revealing a luscious amount of leg. She didn't appear to be wearing a bra, either, as I could see her nipples clearly through the fabric in her shirt.

Cynthia took a moment to ponder what I had just said. "Why do you say that stuff? Do you mean it, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

I was already a little bit embarrassed to be checking her out in the first place, "I do want to make you feel better, but I don't want to freak you out. I mean, I probably shouldn't look at you like that, you know? If you're worried that you're not hot enough or something, I just want you to know that you're plenty hot enough. It's hard for me to say what I mean without sounding like a weirdo,"

"It doesn't freak me out. Not like there's anyone around to listen to us. I'm glad that you told me," Cynthia said. She sat up and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Maybe I'm a weirdo because I like it. What do you think about that?"

"You like me telling you that you're hot?" I asked. This conversation that we were having started on a funky path and was now taking a turn toward what I considered to be surreal. Who actually talked like this with their sister?

"Yeah. It makes me believe it. It makes me look at you a little different," she said.

"You ought to believe it, it's true. How do you look at me that's so different?"

"It's silly," she said, fiddling with her hair again, smiling like a devil. "I don't want to tell you."

"Aw, come on! You can't do that to me. Besides, no one's listening, remember?" I asked. This was interesting.

"Well, you're just not my little brother, you know? I can kinda picture you more like a man. Especially when you say things that make me feel sexy. Like when you said that I turn you on a little. I can imagine you doing things..."

"Doing things to you?" I asked.

Cynthia turned from a beige to a robust shade of crimson. It sounded like my sister was totally fantasizing about me. It was amazing that she admitted such a thing, and I found it to be super hot. "Maybe. Maybe we should talk about something else for a while so I can get this out of my head."

Maybe. Or maybe we could have just gotten naked and worked out our frustrations that way. At that point, I had just about lost all inhibitions. Raging hormones tended to short circuit my brain. "I'm sorry, Cin, I didn't realize that I had such a manly effect on you. What do you want to talk about? Want to hear about the shower I had this morning?"

"You ass. I shouldn't have said anything. You're just gonna pick on me now."

"I won't, I promise, and to tell you the truth, I've thought about you and I was guilty as hell about it. It makes me feel better that you've at least had a few of the same kind of thoughts. At least I know that we're both weird. Why don't we get out of your bedroom and you can do my homework for me or something?" I asked.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get my sister to do my homework, but she did help me with some calculus. Nothing like a dose of advanced math to put a damper on lustful thoughts. After that crap was out of the way, we ate more pizza and watched Sports Center. The clock was telling me that I probably ought to hit the road.