Cabin at the Lake Ch. 12

Emotions and bodies come together and find a new path.

The group sex described contains both male and female bisexuality, which if you've been reading this series you probably expect but if you are a new reader be warned.

There is no depiction of sex between characters under the age of 20.

I hope you enjoyed the story. I had fun writing it, even when I didn't think I would find a way to end it. Allow me to say a big thanks to those of you who took the time to comment, vote and "favorite" my effort, poor as it was at times.

You should all thank LarryInSeattle for keeping it from being an even bigger muddle.

Peace.

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Donna was so focused on her mother, who was so intent on deflecting Donna's concern, that they both were unaware of the kerfuffle that had broken out between the twins. I'm not inclined to get too worked up about it. In this part of the world, brothers who don't trade a punch or two on occasion are as rare as Democrats. Mark, having grown up in more rarefied circles, is upset. We had followed Kat out of the bathroom not long after a steel door slammed closed on her thoughts. Something was up, that much was sure.

I did my best to mind my own business but Donna's concern was too intense to shut out entirely. Her passage down the hall was like watching the sun through closed eyes. I'd no more than wrenched my attention away from that drama than I felt my head rock back from Terry's punch. It wasn't my head of course but being punched by his brother was as big an emotional blow as a physical one. Private as he tried to be, Gary couldn't keep that one to himself.

"It would appear that all is not entirely well in the household," I drawled to Mark. He didn't smile.

"What should we do?"

As usual, he's prepared to take full responsibility for everything that's within earshot.

"I'm getting something to eat. All this sex and drama has made me hungry," I tell him as I turn toward the door. He looks so worried I stop to kiss his cheek. "Relax, baby. It's family and love and sex and there's bound to be drama at some point. It'll be fine." I turn and pause again to look at him over my shoulder. "But if you hear shots, get low and stay low."

He doesn't smile.

Gary is standing at the sink, dabbing at his lip with a wet paper towel. I pull his hand down and look at his lip.

"Not too bad, seen a lot worse," I tell him as I squeeze his upper arm.

"Practicing medicine without a license again are we, nurse," Mark asks in best pompous Boston voice. People say the English are snooty. If they can out snoot Boston blue bloods, well goddamn.

"She's right though. You don't need stitches. Most of the cut is on the inside. You want some ice?"

"No thanks, Doc," Gary mumbles around the paper towel. "He should have hit me harder."

I busy myself in the refrigerator. One, I really am hungry and two, I want to hear Mark's take on all this.

Mark reaches past me and grabs two beers. He opens both and hands one to Gary who takes it without saying a word.

Mark takes a swig out of his own bottle before asking, "What makes you say that?"

Gary dabs at his lip and takes a drink of his beer. I think he empties half the bottle in one long pull.

"Because he's right. I ought to be more ashamed of what's happened."

"You mad at me?"

I see Gary's startled look. "Why would I be mad at you, doc?"

"Because I just had sex with your mother."

Gary waves his beer at the suggestion as if it were a troublesome gnat. "Mom's a big girl. There's few in the world who know their own mind as well as my mother. It's been several years since dad past. I'm glad she's letting herself enjoy life. She's not that old, not that old at all, damn it."

"You think she enjoyed herself?"

Gary snorts, "You got to ask? You were there. Jesus, doc."

"You were there too weren't you? You and Donna and Terry."

Gary tips the beer bottle at him. "Give the good doctor a prize. Bingo. Terry tried to deck me because I essentially, by allowing myself to ride along in your head, fucked my own mother. Bad enough I fuck my brother and sister but now dear old ma as well. I'm, we're, a piece of work."

"Hhmm, I suppose so," Mark mutters and takes another sip of beer. Gary drains his and sets the empty bottle on the counter. "Did you three get inside our heads?" He gestures to his chest and then me with the beer bottle. "Yesterday, when Julie and I were making love outside?"

Gary hangs his head then gives a quick nod. "Yeah, doc. Sorry."

"You think I, we, didn't know you were watching us?"

Gary raises his head to look at Mark. "No, I suspected you knew."

Mark nods his head. "Yesterday I would have tried to avoid admitting it but of course we knew you were watching. Who wouldn't? I can admit now that I got off on imagining you guys watching. I wanted you to see how beautiful Jewel is. And, he smiled, "I wanted you to see how big my dick is. Childish but true."

"Not the same thing, doc. Not at all. Watching someone and wallowing inside their thoughts are two different things."

"Is it? Why? Weren't you simply 'watching' much more intimately?"

"Now you're just playing games, doc. But, fine, I'll concede the point. I was 'watching' more intimately. Did you ever watch, in any fashion, or desire to watch in any fashion, your mother having sex?"

I'm busy pondering a couple of things at the moment. One is, how will Mark handle Gary's question. It's a good question. Second, and more important, why the fuck do white people never have anything to put on a sandwich but mayo, yuck, bland tasteless yellow mustard, and catsup, a condiment Granny used to call "cat shit". Damn, I could deal with Wonder Bread, or even whole grain 39 seed live forever bread if there was some spicy mustard or horseradish sauce or something. I put a couple slices of cold ham on the bread, shudder, and squirt watery pale mustard atop the meat. I add some Cholula, smash the other piece of bread over the mess and take a bite. I'm so damn hungry it tastes good. I turn my attention back to the men. Mark is busy doing his own chewing, except his is in his head.

"No," Mark concedes with a shake of his head. "No, I did not."

"So what if we have this unexplainable gift, or curse, it isn't right for offspring and parents, brothers and sisters to have this kind of love. The love between parent and child is a different thing altogether from the love of a man for a woman."

"Altogether?" Mark looks at Gary, who waits while Mark takes a sip of beer. I decide a beer sounds like an excellent idea and return to the refrigerator.

"I'm not sure you can chop love into such discrete packages," Mark offers softly. "Packages that are altogether one thing or altogether another thing. I'm beginning to picture love as an amorphous primordial force that we channel and give form to."

I hand Gary another beer. He takes a pull and toasts Mark with the bottle. "Oh love is a force alright, a powerful one, a dangerous one. You know any Bowie doc?" Mark shakes his head. "Too bad. In one of his songs he points out that 'love is not loving' and describes it as a 'flaming dove'. And aren't you afraid you're mixing lust up with love?"

"You've been inside my head, earlier with Julie, with your mom. Was the only thing I was seeking was a fuck? Was I that base? Was what we were doing that base?"

"No," Gary sighs. "No. Sorry for the implication. No, it wasn't base. It was very mutual. You were focused as much on your partners as you were on yourself."

"I'm use to playing the role of the square, if that word is still in vogue."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing. Mark looks at me with a half smile.

"'In vogue'? Yeah baby you're square."

The debate, and my sandwich, are interrupted by his kiss. I don't mind. I'm always hungry for that.

"As I was saying before my hip fiancé..." He can't continue. I crack up all over again when he calls me "hip". Christ on a cracker, the poor man was teleported from the late sixties right into the now. He shakes his head in amusement as I control myself.

"Anyway," he is finally able to continue. "I'm usually the conservative one. The cautious one. Perhaps like all converts, I've become a bit fanatical but I don't sense any harm resulting from this. To me it feels like it's drawing everyone together, making us feel and care more deeply than ever about each other. As intensely physically enjoyable as this experience has been, I find it hard to characterize it as self-centered or selfish in any way. In fact, it feels just the opposite. How can it be self-centered when it is so completely shared?

"If you had asked me a week ago what I felt about a brother and sister or a brother and brother having sex I would have turned up my nose and been appalled. Now, stupidly or not, I no longer feel that way. I don't see what you are doing as stifling your growth as individuals. I don't see you taking from each other, scoring points off each other. I see you protecting each other, caring for each other, loving each other. And that's all I see."

We all turn at the slow clap of hands behind us. Donna and Kat are standing in the hallway. Kat is clapping, arms extended straight in front of her looking a little like someone imitating a seal. I swallow the urge to start braying laughter again.

-------

"Bravo, Mark. Bravo. I couldn't have said it better."

After I had finished emptying my soul to my daughter and finished chastising myself for doing so, we rested, my arm wrapped over her waist. I no longer worried that my breasts were nestled against her naked back. It comforted, not only me but Donna as well. I was content to leave it at that.

As I had been able to free myself from doubt and worry, the bubble I'd been hiding in for months dissolved. We both became aware of the kitchen debate at the same time. The cause of the debate was apparent as well. I do not approve of hitting, especially a brother hitting a brother. But as my mind brush over my sons', my anger was washed away by sorrow over their fears.

"I think it is time to rejoin the family, daughter," I whisper in Donna's ear along with a kiss. I roll out of bed and once again try to tame my hair. Crisis or not, I have no intention of walking around looking like Courtney Love on a bad day. Although one wonders, does the poor thing have any good days? Bless her heart.

I see Donna smile. We're attuned to each other. We don't need to pry. We don't need details. We're aware of the other's emotions without the need for specifics.

We reach the end of the hallway just as Mark finished his soliloquy.

"Bravo, Mark. Bravo. I couldn't have said it better."

The sweet man actually blushes at my compliment.

"Is Terry down at the lake?"

Gary nods, "I think so."

"What we need is something to eat." I smile at Julie. "There's spicy mustard in the pantry honey. And I'm sure you need more than one itty-bitty sandwich." I wave my hands at them. "Go on. Rummage around and put together a meal. There's too many us to fit out on the porch, so Gary you'll have to grill. I don't want to heat the house up cooking inside." They stare at me and I flap my hands again like I'm shooing greedy hens crowding around the feeder. "Go on, hop to it, mach schnell, go," I snap but they only grin at me.

I shake my head and go to find my troubled youngest son.

------

I hear footsteps. Gary and I may not be able to connect with mom like Donna but I know it's her without turning. She sits beside me and dangles her feet in the water. Beneath the water, our feet are a pale ghostly green. We don't speak. She begins to wiggle her toes and the minnows that had been inching closer dart away and regroup at a safe distance.

She nudges the side of my leg and foot with her own. I ignore it. The minnows grow bold until a wiggle of her toes scatters them. She nudges me again. I scoot away from her, lifting myself up with my arms. I don't need a splinter in my ass on top of everything else. Like a kid, she follows, nudges my leg and foot again. I start to get up but she rests a hand on the top of my leg. She doesn't press or push. She just let her hand rest there. I settle back down onto the rough boards. She wiggles her toes. Her hand is warm on top of my leg.

Behind us, the sun drags itself toward the horizon. I imagine that the sight of us, of me, sickens it.

"Hush," mom whispers beside me. "It's a bad habit to get into, being overly harsh with one's self. Soon the harsh spills out and engulfs others. You don't want that sweetheart. The sight of you should not sicken anyone, especially and most importantly, not yourself."

She doesn't say anything more. The minnows approach. She wiggles her toes.

"Why do you keep scaring them away?" I ask.

"They tickle."

I know we don't have a lot of time. The mosquitoes will be out soon. Mom will be hungry. I don't think I can eat. Her hand caresses the top of my leg.

"How?" I mutter. "How can any of this be right? Gary and I, Donna, and now you."

"I don't know, sweetheart. If you don't feel it's right, then, for you at least, it isn't right. Did you have these feelings before, when it was just you and your brother? Or the three of you? Or is me being here that's the problem?"

"You? No. Yes. I don't know." I realize I sound like a moron and take a deep breath, organize my thoughts. "Gary never bothered me. I guess because we were so close, being twins. I told Donna when I'm with Gary, it's more like masturbation than having sex. It feels as if what he does to me is really me doing it to me. You know?" Beside me, she nods but says nothing. "Then Donna shows up and comes busting into Gary's room, afraid of a stupid raccoon and Pow! Things got weird. I always felt bad that she was excluded. I mean, Gary and I watched out for her and loved her as much as any brothers could but she was never part of the connection we had with each other.

"I was, I don't know, happy she was part of the group, physically I mean. This was before she turned into Ms. Super Psychic. I knew what people would think but it didn't seem to apply to us. Gary and I were different and we wanted to include Donna. Then, well you know, she freaked out, and the fall, and I was sure she was going to die.

"I knew God was punishing us. I don't even believe in Him but I was certain the universe was pissed and punishing us for disturbing the natural order of things. But then she got better, more than better, she was able to share the connection Gary and I have shared all our lives. That changed everything. If what Gary and I did was okay because we were so close it was like fooling around with yourself, well now wasn't it the same with Donna? I thought so anyway. Now, I don't know mom, it seems so fucked up. I mean Jesus..."

She cuts me off. "You fucked her. You even fucked her in the ass. You let her suck your cock. I know all that. You want to confess it? If that will make you feel better, by all means, confess. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Donna and I were in isolation inside ourselves for a while. I, we, didn't feel your pain. But we shared everything with each other, while you were punching your brother in the mouth we were sharing. I saw it all. I felt it all. I felt you in Donna's ass. And at the same time I felt you in mine."

I couldn't believe she was telling me this. I started to get up but this time her hand did hold me down.

"Sit still and listen. I don't know what to tell you. I don't know what your father would say. Donna shared the memory of her dad telling her it was okay, the one she told you about. I don't know if that was real or not. I can tell you the memory felt real. It felt like your dad. Even so, I don't know what he would say about all this and he isn't here to tell us. But I can show you how I feel about all I've learned and shared."

She turned then and took my head in her hands. She pulled my head down to hers and rest her forehead against mine. Nothing happened at first, then the dock dropped away from my ass and I fell into a chasm of swirling sensations, memories, and emotions.

It seemed like hours later that I pulled away with a gasp but the shadows were unchanged. I have no way to describe what had happened. Past and present, mom's memories, Donna's, mine, and my father's whirled like Dervishes around each other. I saw and felt and experienced events that were separated by years and miles simultaneously. I was Donna. I was mom. I was dad. I was all of them. I was lost in a maelstrom with nothing to cling to, no horizon to swim for. I saw my mother's hand reaching for me. I grabbed it and found myself sprawled on the dock gasping for breath.

My head is cradled in my mom's lap. Her face is quiet. I see no fear in it and my own fear subsides. She bends and kisses my forehead, one breast brushes against the side of my face. Her fingertips massage my temples and my breathing slows. My heart settles back into its easily ignored tempo.

"You understand, sweetheart?"

I shake my head. "Are you fucking kidding me? I don't understand a fucking thing. Fucking holy hell."

"You're right sweetheart. Understanding is beyond any of us. But did you catch a glimpse? Did you experience anything that would make you imagine the sun would want to run from the sight of you?"

"No," I concede after a moment. "No, I didn't."

Mom lifted my head from her lap and swiveled her knees from under my head. "That'll have to do for now then," she intoned as she rose. She held out her hand. "Come on. I'm hungry and whether you'll admit it or not, so are you."

I rose and followed her back to the cabin, trying not to notice how her butt moved as she walked.

------

Supper is a quiet affair. Mom sits between my brothers. I sit between beside Julie, who sits beside Mark. No one sits at the head of the table. The meal is a hodgepodge of whatever was in the refrigerator. A couple of burgers, some brats, even a couple of pork chops. I fried some potatoes and onions and Julie made the only cornbread I've tasted that's better than mom's.

No one speaks, not even to ask for something. What is wished for is provided, silently. We're each lost in our own thoughts. No one bothers to guard their thoughts. We trust each other but more importantly, we're too busy with our own thoughts to bother with anyone else's.

Mom has the boys help her with the dishes. I drift back to my room and brush my teeth. Mark and Julie do the same. When they return, the two them join me on the couch. The occasional clink and splash from the kitchen conveys such a strong sense of normalcy I begin to relax a little. In my peripheral vision, I see mom drying her hands on a dish towel. Terry is wiping down the counters and stove while Gary sweeps.

Julie's soft voice is the first voice I've heard since before supper. "Granny always said the dishes weren't done until the floor was swept."

"Smart woman, your Granny," mom says as she bends to kiss Julie on the cheek. "Someday, if you don't mind dear, I'd love to share some of your memories of your grandmother. She sounds like an extraordinary woman."

Julie answers by taking mom's face in her hands. She touches her forehead to my mother's. Both women begin to smile, both break the bond with tears running down their cheeks. Mom presses her hands against Julie's cheeks and smiles. "I was right. She was extraordinary. How proud she would be of you my dear, how very, very proud."

"Thank you, Kat."

As the boys enter the great room, mom straightens. When she speaks, it's in a very mom-like tone.

"Mark, would you and Julie move this couch back to the wall please. Donna, move those chairs back. Terry, put the coffee table over there by the couch, then you and Gary go fetch the mattresses off your bed and Donna's, mine as well. Set them together, here, in the center of the floor."