Broken Pt. 03

"Did she?" Emily asked, inquisitively. I noticed the shadow moving in the window. I thought better than to call her out.

"Oh yeah," I chuckled. "You should have seen her all red faced as she walked through the door and saw me standing there in the kitchen. It was so hard to keep from laughing, you see when I was little... Mom would put on Hook. After that, if you believe her telling of the event, Mr. Gumburg came walking down the street. Mom made this hook out of her nose with her finger given how his nose had a slight bend in it at the time, now, it does sort of like a hook. So there stood grandma all red faced, she knew of the nickname Mom called him. I couldn't help it I let out an: 'Arrrr'," I heard the snort from the open doorway, "then she let out this groan -- and I? I laughed as I walked out. That was a good day," I said, in a sigh.

"What's a 'Hook'?!" Emily asked, confused.

"Captian Hook," I saw the confusion in her eyes, "You know Peter Pan. Get up," I ordered as still saw confusion in her eyes.

"O-okay, did I..."

"What?! Shit... Nothing like that, thought you would like to see a movie."

"How?" Emily asked, with this rather peculiar look; a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

"The Netflix," I stated as I opened the door. "You thinking lasagna?" I asked, as I looked over at my mother. Not hiding that I knew she was there.

"Really?" I noted how odd her excitement was as she asked that.

"Not much variety with Roy I take it?" I asked, as I watched as she slowly nodded. Turning to get the key from the peg for the deep freeze. "Then you two never had Texas toast garlic bread, have you?" Looking at the two of them as they shook their heads. "You had to have had a Drumstick before, right?"

"No. Why?"

"Is she allergic...?" I nodded to Emily as I peered at my mother who whisper a low: No. "Here, hold that," I said, holding out the family size lasagna and garlic bread to my mother. I know too much for one person, I bought it by habit two weeks ago. I watched my mother's eyes move over the box. "It's good," her eyes shot to mine as I said that, "and for dessert," I said, pulling out a box of Drumsticks. I wondered if my mother realized why I did that. As I saw her eyes move towards the steps behind me I knew she did. "Why don't you go put that up and I'll pull out the popcorn maker. You ever been to a movie theater?" I asked Emily as she followed after me, closing the door as she did.

"Yeah, Dad did have his moments."

"Well, you can't see it in the theater anymore, I can, however, bring some flavor to it," I said, walking into the den, where most of the clutter is. "What?!" My hand rested on top of the maker as I wheeled the cart out. Nothing fancy I assure you. "You can't watch Hook without popcorn," I said, as Emily looked at me strangely. Shooing her out of the way, "Middle cabinet, lower shelf, bring the corn and oil," I said, pushing the device past the door when I saw my mother heading towards us.

I ignored how Emily's face was pressed to the glass as I added the three teaspoons of oil to the pan. Seeing the green light come on noting the time to add the corn and the seasoning that the theaters use in the popper.

"Jacob? Shall I fetch a bowl?" Pauline asked, as she stood behind me.

"You can if you want or..." Pulling out the folded popcorn tubs I buy off of Etsy along with the seasoning. I personally like three oils and three scoops of salt flakes, makes it extra buttery. "We could use these," I said, popping the tub into shape. Folding the bottom in and handed it to Emily then one for my mother as the smell of the seasoning started to fill the room. Taking the first hot scoop, walking to the kitchen, "You can make yourself drinks if you want," I said, as I rounded the corner.

I watched my mother's jaw drop as I surfed through Netflix. "Jacob what is this?!" Pauline asked, I noted how she fought herself from touching me as we all sat on the couch. Emily and I were at either end and our mother was in the middle.

"The theater of the future!" I exclaimed as I pressed the play button as I selected Hook.

I got up when I heard the buzzer that the oven had preheated. Waving for my mother to stay when she started to get up. Flinching away when the wave of heat struck my face. Peeking into the living room once I put our dinner in the oven. I nearly leaped out of my skin as I closed the freezer door and Emily as standing there.

"Me and Mom wanted another drink... okay?" Emily said, lifting up the glasses.

"Sure," I said, backing away. "For future reference if you happen to be here longer than planned for, when the bottle gets below half, put another one in the fridge so it will be nice and cold when its opened. Okay?" I asked, reaching for the other baking sheet.

"I-if you want we can drink water." I heard the tremble in her voice.

"No. I'm not saying that, just saying, I don't like drinking warm soda," I said, smiling at her hopefully telling her it was fine. "In the pantry," pointing to the door behind her, "on the floor that's where you'll find them. You can do that right?"

"Yes, of course," Emily nodded her head. "I-I'll tell Mom. What are you doing?" I glanced over at her as she stepped up to my side as I laid the tin foil down onto the sheet.

"This way the bread won't stick to the pan, plus less clean up."

"I see... and we're having those with dinner?" Emily asked, as I laid out the eight pieces on the pan to thaw out. Watching her nose wiggle as it caught the scent of the garlic bread. I noted how she took a few swallows as she stared down at those eight frozen slices.

"First time having garlic bread?" I asked, the shaking of her head really surprised me given everything I've learned so far about this side of Roy I never knew about. I was equally perplexed by the devious smirk she was wearing as she turned to look at me.

"Mom bought me a little salt shaker, she had to be sneaky about it. When Dad was gone, I'd pull it out from the vent that the couch covered. Then I'd sprinkle the garlic salt onto some toast, but nothing like this," Emily said in awe, as she stared down at the inch thick slices. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday," she said, her brown hair brushed along her cheek as she rose and turned her head to look me. I knew she would definitely look like Pauline in six years. Well... can't say history will repeat itself here, now can I?

"Okay, what about it?" I asked, not liking where this was going.

"If I'm not your sister then that makes me your aunt," there was definitely a mischievousness in that smirk of hers, "although I would really like to try to be your sister. I'd have to say, I'd probably say the same thing as you -- if I didn't have... well... Dad. I hope you'll at least give me the chance. If you can't I'll understand." I watched how her body language took on a somber tone.

"Listen... just because you aren't living here if that comes to pass, that does not mean we can't talk," I said, watching her reaction of the realization setting in as her eyes widened as she turned her gaze back to me. "Don't you two have like a cell phone?"

"Yeah... Then does that mean we... can call you?" Emily asked, with excited eyes.

"Let's start out with... you do know how to text... I see," I said, as she shook her head. "Then calling is fine... just don't abuse it," I stated as I set the timer for when it was time to put the bread in.

"Will you teach me how to text?" Emily asked me, as she followed closely behind me.

"Sure... why don't you go get your phone," I said, over my shoulder. Taking very careful note of the light brushing of her breasts against my back. Way too close! My back stiffened as I felt my half-sister press her firm, round, soft breasts into my back as her fingers curled around my shirt.

"T-then may be if I have like a bad dream one night... would it be okay to call you?"

"Me? Why not your sister?" If she wanted to throw the aunt thing around I thought I'd do the same.

"Mom wasn't the only one that stalked your Facebook."

"Okay... I'm really, really going to have to set that to private," I said to myself.

"I know you didn't post about her death, yet after it... and now, it felt so sad. Thinking that you were all alone. Yet I was there, I'm Feby Ticklebottom." I heard Emily giggle behind me as she said the name. "I tried to tell you without coming out and saying it. That you weren't alone, we were still there, yet I feared that if I did you'd block me and never want to talk to me again." I felt her hot breath flowing through my shirt as she pressed her forehead against my back.

"Honestly, I thought you were a bot given the lapses in time that you posted on my stuff," I said, trying everything to not focus on how her breasts felt.

"Well... I couldn't access it all the time, I had to wait for when Mom was out since she liked to stare at your picture for hours... Then I had about an hour to go through everything you posted."

"I see," I said, wondering where this obsession about me was going to go. My eyes glanced over to the right as saw the shadow of my mother approaching.

"Jacob? Are you coming back to watch the movie?" Pauline asked, with her head bowed as she stood at the threshold.

"Yeah, I'm just weighed down at the moment," I said, nodding to Emily behind me.

"Well..." Brushing her hair behind her ear I noted how her cheeks heated as her eyes glanced up at me then back down then up again. "I paused the movie, Emily let go of your brother so we can continue."

"Okay Mom," Emily said, from behind me. I was taken aback as Emily placed a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you, I know you didn't want to, but you allowed us in. You're a good man."

I just stood there very confused. Am I really a good man? I don't think one would say that if they knew what I was thinking about them. Then again, I'm probably the only one that's ever been kind to Emily.

I quickly got up at the sound of the buzzer. I had removed the lid from the lasagna fifteen minutes prior so the cheese could get all nice and brown. We all like that, don't we? I walked hurriedly into the kitchen; I wasn't about to allow the bread to burn. Giving the pan a nod of approval as I pulled it out. Setting it on the back of the stove, it wasn't long before I heard feet approaching as the smell of the lasagna drifted through the house.

"Shall we help set the table?" Pauline asked, as she stood in the doorway to my left with Emily peering over her left shoulder.

"Sure, if you want," I said, looking over at her. "You know where the plates are," I stated as I rummaged through the silverware drawer looking for that pesky spatula. Twirling it in my fingers as I plucked the bowl my grandmother always used for bread when it was being served at dinner, out of the dish rack. Laying a clean dish towel in the bowl. Arranging the bread just so, so that the cheese wouldn't stick to the underside of another piece. I hate that when it happens. Handing the bowl off to Emily who quickly carried it to the table. My mother stood there with plates in hand as I cut the lasagna into squares. The first plate filled my hand as I held it out only to be passed onto Emily who quickly returned until only my plate was left. There was enough left over for each of us to have another serving. I cocked an eyebrow as Emily and Pauline were muttering low with their heads bowed and their hands linked together. "Grace? Really?" I muttered to myself as I took my seat. "Then again, they just might have needed God. Who fucking knows."

"Jacob," I had thought we were going for the silent dinner but appears I was wrong, "I called Emily's doctor when we were grocery shopping."

"Okay, and when did you get her a doctor?" I asked, I wasn't expecting my mother's cheeks to turn crimson at my question. I so don't understand that woman.

"Last week, when we first arrived in town," Pauline muttered.

"Mom was working up the courage to see you," Emily said, before taking a bite of the bread. If I didn't know any better I'd say my half-sister, or aunt, whichever you want to call her, almost had an orgasm.

"There's no feta cheese in here?!" I looked over to my mother who stared down in shock at her dinner.

"Why would there be? I hate feta cheese," I stated.

"That's not what I meant..." I noticed how hard it was for her to pull back her hand. "Just when Roy bought it he would force us to eat it knowing how I don't like it either." I watched how her hand tightened around her fork. "So after that he stopped buying it once we made a fuss about the feta cheese. Not that I cared, I had to vomit it up when I was done."

"This is so much better!" I nodded as Emily dug into her food.

"Yes, yes it is," Pauline sighed as she took her first bite.

"Okay so, what did the doctor say?" I asked, after my mother had hurriedly eaten half of her portion glancing over to my left as Emily slid her chair back, having already wolfed down her own. "Where does that girl put it?" I nodded to the stove when she started to speak. Alright, I'll admit her eyes are dazzling when they sparkle like they were at that moment. When my mother looked down at her plate then to the stove and then to me, I just waved her on.

"She said: she would like to see you at eleven tomorrow, so they can get a sample and see if you're healthy enough for the transplantation," Pauline said, as she walked back to the table after she got her second helping.

"I'll be there too!" I looked down as Emily covered my hand with hers as she leaned over the table. "I know you're going to save me. I just know it!" As much as I would like to make a sarcastic remark then, I didn't, as much as it pained me not too. I just simply nodded my head, no sense in kicking her when she's down given their lives.

"God. I really, really hate you Fate!" I silently cursed the heavens! Before long, and yes, Emily ate my slice of lasagna and she and Pauline polished off the last of the bread. "Great! Don't save me half of one!" I sighed to myself. And with that, they rose from their seats, took the dirty dishes, and prepared to clean up after our dinner. I mean wouldn't you mind not having to do the dishes?

"Jacob... can I use the dishwasher?" Pauline asked inquisitively, as she pointed at it.

"Yeah sure, just rinse off the spatula and stuff and have at it," I said, as I got up. "The soap is under the sink." I was going to have to run a cycle anyway given how the dishes had been building up inside of it. What? I'm lazy alright! Plus it's not sensible to run a load with only one plate in it. No, there isn't mold growing on the plates. I just forgot to turn it on this morning.

"Like this Jacob?" Pauline asked, placing the detergent pack into the slot.

"Mmmhmm," I nodded as she closed it and shut the door. "Now see that little lever at the top push it to the left."

"Okay, why?" Pauline asked, as she did it.

"Locks the door so if something happens the kitchen won't get flooded. Now turn the knob to the left two times and hit start," I instructed. I watched as she and Emily stood in awe as the machine started. "Who wants to watch Top Gun?" I was not expecting how fast my mother's head snapped towards me. I knew that was the movie she and my father watched when they wanted some romance. Yes, I know, it really isn't, what can I say, my father was a strange man -- and Pauline? -- well she would snuggle up to him, rest her head on his shoulder, and have this smile on her face; or that's what my grandmother told me when she got this sad look on her face when it came on the cable channel.

"Jacob... I don't think that would be appropriate," Pauline said. Was it wrong of me to get some sense of joy out of watching her squirm? Oh, most definitely! Did I care? Fuck no. I was having a ball.

"Why not?" I asked, with a wicked smirk. "You got a problem with Top Gun?" I inquired as I looked over at Emily.

"Mom? Isn't that the movie you never want to watch?" Emily whispered, yet I heard it clearly in my '50 style kitchen. Yes I remodeled it to look like Bobby Singer's kitchen from Supernatural. I did tell you I was that kind of fan boy. No. I don't have the basement safe room. Not that I haven't thought about it.

"Please Jacob, must we?" Pauline asked, with those pleading eyes of hers.

"Mmmhmm," I nodded. I wasn't about to make her life easy.

"Okay," Pauline said weakly, hanging her head. "But if I hold on to you, don't say you weren't warned," she said, as her eyes glanced over to me.

"I'll risk it," I stated as I poured myself another glass. "Hmm," I hummed as I stared down at the pantry floor. "Tomorrow after the docs we're going to have to stop and get more soda, you didn't buy any." I didn't see my mother move or hear her for that matter as I bent down and picked another two litter from the floor. "Way too close," I muttered to myself trying not to drop the bottle as my mother stood less than six inches away from me.

"Please Jacob, it was a mistake..."

"Whoa, whoa, it's just soda, it's not the end of the world," I said, noting the look of fear in my mother's eyes. That was never an emotion I ever saw or at least that's what I remember anyway. Yet the way my mother looked at me to her it might be the end of the world.

"Are you sure?" Pauline asked, looking at me with watery eyes. I didn't plan on it, my hand just moved on its own. I felt my mother tremble as my hand rested on her shoulder. I watched as she bit her lip as she peered down at my hand. Then those brown eyes of hers found their way back to me. I tried not to be creeped out at how she stared at me and brushed her cheek against my hand. "You've finally t-touched me. I wanted you to do it first if at all. You don't know how long I've waited to feel your touch again. To feel the hands of my son," Pauline said, getting misty eyed. How I wish I'd never done that. Now it appears I'm tethered to my mother seeing how she won't let go of my hand. "Now I know I can get through the movie." I got a feeling that my mother wasn't all there, or that I had somehow flipped a switch in that brain of hers. If the look in her eyes was any indication then Roy must have done something to my mother in all those years. "Emily, place this," I looked down as my mother took the bottle from my hand, "in the fridge, we wouldn't want to displease Jacob."

Okay, I was totally on edge. "Displease me?! What the fuck?!" I asked myself in a worrying tone. I just hoped that she wasn't about to become a female version of Norman Bates.

"Of course," Emily nodded vehemently. "You have apple jelly!" she squealed in surprise. I peered over Pauline's shoulder as I watched Emily dance in the open door of the fridge. "Can I have some in the morning?" She looked at me with these excited eyes.

"Sure, you just make sure you clean up after yourself," I said, wondering just what kind of crazy did I get myself into.

"Yes brother." That sounded so... strange and dirty especially with the way she was looking at me.

"You can't forget about this!" Pauline said excitedly, handing me my drink.

"Thanks," I muttered trying to dislodge my mother's grip. Only to feel her tightening it, those wild eyes telling me she wasn't letting go. I groaned inwardly as I heard my mother giggling behind me as I walked back to the living room.

I tried not to be alarmed by how my mother was snuggling up to me. The way my hand was trapped between Pauline's thighs; far, far, far too close to her womanhood. The way her fingers danced lightly up and down my right arm. How the strawberry scent of the shampoo that was in the guest bath filled my nostrils as she rested her left cheek on my shoulder. Just like how she used to do with Dad when Berlin's 'Take My Breath Away' started to play during the movie.