I'm Not Me

Let me break it down for you, so that you can understand the full scope of theG tragedy that was about to take place on my first day as a senior in high school.

It was my birthday; I was eighteen--on that very day. Once I was out the door, Mom planned to bake a vanilla buttermilk sheet cake for me. The presents were piled high on the kitchen table, waiting for me to get back from school.

I had earned enough money at the movie theater where I worked the past two summers to pay for my own car. My friends didn't know; I kept it a secret for two weeks. I was driving it to school to show everybody for the first time.

And it was a truck. I always wanted one. Mine was used, of course. Well-used. But still mine. I loved it. Whenever I saw it parked beside our home, waiting for me, my heart soared.

I was showing off another thing, too--my new body. I had grown a ton during junior year, so I dedicated the summer to lifting. On that first day of school, I wasn't a stick anymore; I was fit and strong, and this was my year to get some pussy.

Plus, my older sister, Kiley, was gone. She left for college the day before. It was just Mom and me in the house because my only other sibling, my oldest sister, Renee, had been gone for years. I was finally king of the castle. The bathroom was mine. The basement--mine.

This was my year.

Too jacked for the big day, I woke up early and went to school while it was still dark--our school had early classes and an early out, 7:00am to 2:00pm, on account of the shifts at the big plant where most of the people in town worked. I parked in the number one spot. The student lot was empty except for me, and it was just after 6:00am.

I waited, smiling and imagining my friends seeing my truck. I thought about the reactions of those classmates I hadn't seen all summer. I thought about girls.

A lot.

I pulled out my phone and looked at some pictures I had downloaded.

Scanning around at the onset of dawn, I realized I was up pretty high in my truck, and my crotch was pretty low in the bench seat. I unzipped my pants, and--well, you know.

The next thing I knew, my cock was in my hand, and the principal, Mrs. Call, was pounding on the window next to me.

I put myself away in a flash, but it was too late. She led me to the office. Cars were starting to come in at that point. My classmates saw Mrs. Call marching me into school.

Apparently, a fellow senior, walking to school early for marching band practice, had seen me and reported it to the principal. The police would have to be involved.

I had to listen to Mrs. Call's telephone conversation with my mother.

I had to wait for the police.

All the while, that same fellow senior--the blabbermouth drum majorette--was telling everyone what she had seen in the parking lot that morning.

Oh, fuck me.

All of that promise and excitement for the new year? Evaporated and gone.

My beautiful truck was "The Jerkoff Mobile."

My last name being Andrews, the people who used to call me "Andy" were now calling me "Handy." Scratch that--everyone was calling me "Handy."

My senior year kind of sucked.

***

My sister, Kiley, had it even worse than me during her high school years. Poor girl.

First, I've got to say how cruel high school can be because Kiley is awesome. She's smart, she's funny, and she's kind. My sister was never into drama; she always, always tried to look for the good in people. I can recall three or four times when we stayed up all night talking about life, love, and the future. I never slept a wink, and I didn't miss the sleep from the laughter and amazing ideas pouring out of her.

She had a few things against her, though.

Starting in seventh grade and peaking during her junior year, Kiley had horrible acne. Mom spent a lot of money trying to help her, but nothing worked. Imagine a redhead you know, one with a zillion freckles. Change those freckles into zits, and that was Kiley's face--for years. Fuck, it was bad. It was difficult for even me--a bother who admired and loved her--to look at her on those throbbing, greasy days.

Another trouble spot: she inherited my mom's body. Kiley was chubby. Old pictures of my mom tell the tale. A normal kid, Mom began getting bigger around sixth or seventh grade. Mom's senior pictures show a young lady about five-foot-seven and one hundred eighty pounds. Kiley was five-seven, one-seventy-five during her senior year.

The bigger problem with inheriting our mom's body was what happened after high school. Mom went from one-eighty to two-eighty. My oldest sister, Renee, got my mom's body, too. She was a lesbian, and when she got in a serious relationship after college, she ballooned to two-ninety.

The writing was on the wall, and Kiley knew it. All the women on Mom's side of the family had that look--tiny breasts on a chubby body that seemed poised to explode in fat--and eventually did.

It is easy to guess how high school went down; she was the fat, ugly girl. It was totally unfair, too. Kiley's brown eyes were bright and intelligent. She had a lovely profile, a pleasing shape to her face, and beautiful blonde hair. Her weight and pimples made those positives vanish. By the end of her senior year, the acne was beginning to recede, but it was too late to change things for her.

She cried a lot. When she wasn't resenting Mom, they were together, hugging, bawling, and making promises to one another about losing weight. Mom would last two days. Kiley would hold out for a few more, but progress was never fast enough for her, and she once told me, what did it matter how thin she looked when there were all those pimples?

Kiley wanted to resent me, too. My body came from our dad's side of the family. As I said, I sprouted six inches during my junior year. By the end of my disappointing senior year, I was a lean, muscular six-foot, one-eighty. What stopped my sister from resenting me was that I was the only guy in her life that treated her with love and kindness--the only guy that liked her. If she hated me for getting better genes, it never lasted too long.

No doubt, my father would have--and did--adore Kiley, but he died in an accident at the plant when I was twelve and Kiley was thirteen. Mom didn't want to move us away from friends, so we stayed in town, living off Dad's pension.

One cool thing about Kiley I should mention: when she found out about my masturbation incident, she never said a word to me. Can't say the same about Renee: "What kind of pervert are you?" "You're disgusting!" "Mom is so embarrassed."

Renee sucked. Kiley ruled. Mom? She was an old sweetheart. How can you not love your smiling, overeating, big-laughing Mom?

***

Two interesting things happened at the start of my summer break between high school and college.

First, I learned that Kiley would not be home for four weeks after her finals ended. Mom wouldn't tell me why other than to say, "She's got matters to attend to." I called Kiley, of course. Asked her about it. She said basically the same thing: "Oh, just some things I have to get done here."

I was kind of pissed that she wouldn't confide in me. We always told our secrets to one another. Had college, I wondered, changed her?

The second interesting thing was that the house immediately behind our home finally sold. It had been vacant for two years after the Thackers moved. The new occupants--a couple--were new employees at the plant.

Mom met them first, and when she told me about them, she seemed to have more questions than answers.

"A couple?" I asked Mom. "Married?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't think so. I didn't see any wedding rings."

"But, a guy and a girl, right?"

"Yes."

"Same last name?"

"Yes, but--." She didn't finish.

"But what, Mom?"

"I--I can't really say, son. I don't dare talk out of turn."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and waddled to the refrigerator. "Oh, and there's an elderly parent living there, too."

"Not a kid? A parent?"

Mom nodded, reaching inside and pulling out a can of diet soda. "It's one of them's mother, and she's--I believe she's infirm."

"Sick?"

"Or just aged. I don't know, son. I didn't want to pry."

She had few answers for me.

More mysteries.

I met them while I was mowing the backyard. They were planting a garden together. When they heard the mower shut off, the two walked over to me.

They were a younger couple. Early-thirties, I guessed. The guy was slightly shorter than me with a crop of almost black hair. He was skinny, wore thick-rimmed glasses, and had a wide gap between his front teeth.

The woman was Kiley's height. She had long, straight, and dark hair. As skinny as the guy, she too wore ugly glasses.

He introduced himself as Dewey Lawrence. I shook his hand, saying "Jay Andrews. Nice to meet you, Mr. Lawrence."

"Dewey, please," he insisted. Turning to the woman, he said, "This is Deanna"

"Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Lawrence."

She giggled.

Dewey corrected me with a smile, "Not 'Mrs. Lawrence.' Just Deanna."

"Deanna's fine," she said, smiling.

She had a gap in her front teeth, too. I glanced back at Dewey. Then to Deanna. I said, "Are you guys related?"

Deanna giggled again. Dewey smiled broadly. "Deanna's my sister."

"We're twins," Deanna added.

"Oh."

When I finished trimming around the bushes and trees, I went in and told my mom.

"Oh, so that's it!" she said with relief.

"What?"

Mom grinned, "Well, I couldn't help but think they were related seeing as they look so much alike, but I didn't want to ask because they seemed like they're married."

"Seemed how?"

"Oh, just doing things together. Standing close. Helping each other."

"Oh," I replied. "So, is that weird--adult twins, a guy and a girl, living in the same house?"

Mom shook her head, licking at a spoonful of cookie dough. Smacking her lips, she said, "Now don't you go judging folks, son."

"I won't," I said. "Just asking."

"Well, it's uncommon that's for sure, but it makes some sense if they're taking care of an aging or sick parent. 'Two is better than one,' as they say."

I nodded. "Hey, Mom, did they tell you what they do at the plant?"

"Why, yes. They both work in the research lab."

***

My bedroom was on the back of our little two-story house. When the Thackers had lived behind us, it was the home of my best friend, Mike. Those days, I had a habit of staring out my back window into that house, born out of years of secret signals, sneaking out, and in just the past two years, missing my friend.

I saw the Lawrences quite a bit out of that window. They were always together, it seemed. It was rare for me to see one without the other. Even cutting their grass, they were kind of together because they had two little push mowers. Both of them would do the job and knock it out in half the time.

One early evening, I saw them standing over a kettle grill, side by side, barbecuing something. Later on, I saw them push an elderly woman in a wheelchair onto their little porch. The three of them ate dinner together, and Dewey and Deanna took turns feeding the old gal.

Mom made a big cake as a welcoming present. She had me take it over to the Lawrences one afternoon. Dewey welcomed me inside; Deanna was at his side. The place was splattered with Star Trek stuff.

"We're Trekkies!" Dewey explained. When he said it, Deanna grinned, raised her hand, and did the Spock-Vulcan salute thing. Dewey asked, "Do you like Star Trek?"

Not all that big into science fiction, I told them I had seen one of the newer movies and a few episodes of the really old show.

"The Original Series?" Dewey asked.

"Is that the one from like the 1950s?" I asked.

Dewey nodded. "1966 to 1969. Three seasons. Seventy-nine episodes and one unaired pilot. I've seen them all--multiple times. It's my favorite. Deanna likes TNG--The Next Generation."

Deanna said, "1987 to 1994. One hundred seventy-six episodes and three and one-half movies."

"One-half movie?" I asked.

"'Generations,'" Dewey said, rolling his eyes.

"It combined the Next Generation cast with the original cast," Deanna said.

"Not all of the original cast," Dewey added as if it were a mild source of disappointment.

Still holding the platter, I decided to change the subject. "So, my mom made this cake for you--kind of a welcome to the neighborhood thing." I pulled the foil from the top.

It was a strawberry cake; Mom usually made them with fresh strawberries, so it was going to be really good. My mom didn't make the most beautiful cakes in the world, but damn, they tasted amazing.

Dewey and Deanna gasped.

My mom had decorated the top with a colored-frosting Star Trek ship. I hadn't known. I looked up at Dewey and Deanna, and they laughed with joy.

"I love it!" Dewey said.

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Deanna exclaimed.

"Here. Deanna, you hold it, and I'll get a picture," Dave suggested. "Jay, get in there, please. Ready?"

We smiled for the snap. Then, Dewey and Deanna laughed and pointed out things on the cake that my mom had gotten right.

Watching them react, I couldn't help but smile. Yes, they were a couple of goofs, but they were kind and joyful people. Deanna, I noticed, was not ugly. She had nice breasts, too. I wondered why she wasn't married. Then, I remembered the elderly mother.

It was another good thing about the Lawrences; they didn't abandon family. I respected that.

I indicated that I needed to get back home. They thanked me. As I waved good-bye, Dewey told me that if I ever needed to know something about Star Trek to come on over.

***

About two weeks before Kiley's return home, I saw something that I didn't know how to explain. I was sweeping our back patio when I heard uproarious female laughter coming from the Lawrence's. Glancing over, I saw Deanna running out a sliding glass door with a huge grin on her face.

She darted across the back of their ranch-style house, dodging lawn chairs and their grill. She was barefooted in a short bathrobe, and her hair was wet. She had a blue plastic bottle in her hand. It wasn't a drink; it looked like shampoo.

Suddenly, Dewey emerged from the same door, and he was smiling, too. He was in a long bathrobe, and his hair was also wet. When he caught sight of Deanna, he yelled, "Ah hah!" and took off in pursuit.

She shrieked in delight, frantically opening a sliding glass door on the opposite end. She knifed through the opening just as Dewey caught up with her.

When Deanna leaped inside, Dewey reached out and--and grabbed her butt. I heard a feminine squeal, and then they both screamed in laughter as Dewey slid the door closed.

I stared at that door for a moment, wondering what in the hell I had just seen.

Were they playing? Two adults, playing chase?

Did some brothers and sisters have relationships where they might jokingly grab each other's asses?

Had they taken a shower together?

Kiley called that night, and when Mom handed me the phone, I went into my room and shut the door. She sounded tired. We didn't talk long, and she still wouldn't say what was keeping her. What she did say was that she was "on the other side things."

I asked if she had a minute for a quick story, and when she told me had time for a short one, I filled her in on what I had seen at the Lawrence's. She was just as befuddled, but my story seemed to lift her spirits, so that was good.

***

On the day before Kiley's return, the Lawrences once again flummoxed me. I was in my bedroom, chilling on my phone when movement on their back patio caught my attention. Since my bed is right up against the window, I turned to watch.

Dewey came out in a yellow uniform-style shirt with black pants and sleek black boots. His hair had been dyed a lighter shade of brown, and there was a lanyard hanging around his neck with some kind of tag on the end. Deanna--it had to have been her--came out behind him. Her skin was green from head to toe. Her long hair was disheveled, and she wore the tiniest blue mini-skirt dress. It was nothing but rags, the thing, and it showed tons of skin--all green. It was kind of hot, actually. Deanna was wearing a lanyard with a tag, too.

They came out and spun around, arm in arm. Then, Dewey reached out and took a selfie. They chatted for a second. Deanna looked around, said something, and then Dewey held out the camera and took a kissing selfie with her.

He kissed his twin sister on the lips!

Now, it wasn't a big, sloppy tongue kiss or something. It was a peck but on her lips. And he took a picture of it. With her consent.

As they went back inside, I saw stripes on the sleeves of Dewey's shirt, and then I knew--it was a Star Trek thing. The tags were probably admission tickets or something.

I looked up "Star Trek event" on my phone, and there it was. There was a Star Trek mini-con going on in the big city about an hour away.

My neighbors were Star Trek cosplayers.

And they kissed on the lips.

***

Kiley surprised all of us when she returned.

She came home a day early--on the afternoon after I had seen Dewey and Deanna in their costumes. I heard Mom cry out, and I ran from my bedroom to the front entryway.

I found Mom laughing a holding Kiley around her shoulder.

"Kiley! You're back!" I said happily.

She smiled, and when I went to hug her, she held out a hand. "I can't hug, Jay. Not yet."

Confused, I said, "Oh--okay. Anyways, a day early! How did this happen?"

"I got my tickets changed--and it was free."

"Cool. So, all done and home for the rest of summer?

"Yep," she said, and she was beaming, truly.

Then I really looked at her. She was in white sneakers, mini jean shorts, and she wore a baggy Adidas tee-shirt under an open jean jacket that could have fit me. She'd let her blonde hair grow out during the school year, and she had it in pigtails. I might have laughed. I hadn't seen her in pigtails for probably more than a decade, but for whatever reason, they looked quite becoming on her that afternoon.

Taking in her face, I was shocked. All of the acne was gone; not a pimple remained. With her face so clear and unblemished, her eyes seemed brighter. I could see the pleasing feminine shape of her cheeks, nose, and jaw. She had put on a touch of makeup--lustrous pink lipstick and a bit of smoke and mascara around her big eyes.

She looked deeply tan and surprisingly fit. On the spot, I guessed she might have lost ten or fifteen pounds.

"Kiley, you--you look amazing. Holy shit."

Kiley burst into laughter.

"Jay!" Mom hissed. A second later, she started laughing, too, saying, "Well, I suppose I can forgive your swear when you say such a nice thing to your sister." She turned to Kiley, adding, "And it's true, too. She looks beautiful."

I hadn't seen my sister that happy in forever. It was like a weight had been lifted--not just for her, but me, too. Kiley was so fun and cool; I hated that she wasn't as attractive as she wanted. I hated that life had decided to dump so much adversity on her back. She didn't deserve it.

Dinner was full of joy. The only ugly part was the phone call from Renee. Mom was kind of bragging about Kiley's makeover, and Renee seemed bitter about it. After that, the three of us laughed and played cribbage until Mom told us she had to rest her back.

When she waddled off, I turned to Kiley and said, "Hey, so what were you doing those four weeks back at school? Why did you have to stay behind?"

She smiled shyly. "I didn't have to stay. It was by choice."

"Okay, so what was the deal?"

She shook her head. "Can you give me a minute, and I'll meet you in your room? I don't want to talk about it here."

"Oh," I said, instantly thinking about the masturbation incident. Suddenly, I was worried Kiley had some embarrassment in her own life. "Yeah, okay."