A Whiff of What's to Come

"We're not genetically related, you know. We don't share the same last names."

"But Tom... what are you saying?"

"Look, ever since... that night, my emotions for you have been so strong and complicated and conflicted that I've just been letting them simmer like a stew, 'cause there was no way I was going to figure them out."

"Exactly," she said. "I've been crazy every day. I've been dancing like a dervish just so I'll be worn out enough to sleep at night."

"Well, what has finally bubbled to the surface for me is this: the whole, painful 'conflict' is artificial," I said. "It's bullshit! There is no conflict! I love you. And I know you love me."

"Oh, I do, Tom!" she said. "I do love you!"

I knew it. But to hear her say it thrilled me like balancing at the peak of a giant roller coaster, just before the electrifying plunge. "Did you know that in every U.S. state except Virginia, non-blood relative step-siblings can legally marry?"

"I know. I looked it up, too."

"You did?"

"I told you, I can barely think of anything else."

"Okay, then!"

"Okay? It's not okay. What about your mom and my dad? We can't just 'come out' to them."

"Goddammit, why not? Claire, what if you were gay? Would your dad still love you?"

"Of course. But we're... You're my stepbrother."

"You and I are two genetically unrelated human beings! True or false?"

"True."

"My mom and your dad love each other madly. True or false?"

"So true!"

"Don't you think they're going to understand our love? Our desire? I think they're going to be happy for us."

Another long pause. Then Claire said very quietly, "All right."

"What?"

"All right. We'll tell them."

"Then it's perfect!" I said. "We're perfect! We'll never again have to hold back our feelings. We're going to be lovers!"

Claire was crying softly. "We already are lovers."

The day before spring break, I got a package from Claire in the mail. It was the same size as the package she had handed me on the day we'd first left for college, but it was wrapped in plain brown paper, not decorated with feminine ribbons. Inside was a pair of her panties. These underwear were not new; I recognized them: scarlet, with lace at the waistband. I could smell them even before I held them to my nose; she must have worn them for days. Her perfume was intoxicating. A gift card inside said in Claire's ultra-neat handwriting:

Tom, my true love! Thank you for showing me how much a man can adore every part of the female body. You have helped me to appreciate and celebrate myself as a woman. When we get home, the first thing we're going to do is "come out" to our step-parents.

Here is a whiff of what we're going to do next!

To end my lusty tale, let me simply say that Claire and I do not live in Virginia.