Just Like in a Song

"That is disgusting." My sister took a sip of her wine as if to wash a taste from her mouth. "That's disgusting and you're disgusting for being a part of something like that."

I shrugged. "I was pledging the fraternity. Believe me, stealing dirty underwear was preferable to a few of the things some of the other guys had to do. When rumors of those began to surface I dropped out of that house and went to live in the dorm."

"Such as?" she asked, confused.

"A couple of guys had to get nude photos of their sisters, younger sister preferable but older sister would do if you didn't have a younger sister. Anyway, those pictures would then be posted to a porn site and the pledge would have read the comments the guys were leaving-out loud, every night before bed."

She looked at me her eyes wide. After a second she shook her head. "If I had found out you did that to me I would have killed you. I swear. I would have killed you dead as hell."

I nodded. "I knew that even back then. Like I said, I quit the fraternity. Beside if I had a naked picture of you the last place it would have gone would have been a porn site." Why the fuck did I just say that? Oh, my fucking god how much have I been drinking?

"What would you have done with it...if you had somehow gotten a picture of me naked?" she demanded, her voice carrying more than a bit of anger. "Well?"

There is no way I could tell her the truth, that I would have built a shrine to that image. Worshiped it every day, several times a day-okay, all day long.

"I would have sent it to Playboy magazine," I said as the idea popped into my head. "With a letter that said sexiest girl since Marilyn Monroe, in big letters across the front."

"I can see now why you need glasses so young, your eye sight is horrible," she told me after a moment. "Oops, I've got to get up."

"What's the matter?" I asked when she began to try and struggle her way to her feet.

"Potty emergency!" she cried in distress as she fell back, unable to get to her feet.

Laughing, I got to my feet staggered, and catching her hand, helped her up. With her using my arm, I walked, well stumbled, along beside her to the bathroom and left her using towel racks to steady her way to the toilet.

Time for some food.

I wandered off towards her new kitchen, in the hopes that there was something there to eat, besides the pretzels we had been snacking on. Nope. "Hey, old mother Hubbard! Your cupboard is bare!" I called down the hall after a thorough search of the cabinets. "I'm hungry and there was mention of steak sandwiches, and peanut butter fudge that got forgotten about. You don't have any food here."

Her voice answered me from the bathroom over the sound of the toilet flushing.

"No shit, really? I haven't been to the grocery story yet, Sherlock! That was what I had planned for tonight but then my silly kid brother showed up and proceeded to get me shit faced drunk. Order us a damn pizza already before I kick your tail feathers." She weaved and caught the wall. "Okay, I need to go sit back down."

Getting out my cell phone, I called and got that request ordered and on the way. Grabbing another bottle of her wine, I headed back to the nest of pillows and sofa cushions we had built before her, as yet unused, fireplace.

"We seriously need to get some firewood for that thing," I said, as I flopped back down in my seat, and began to fish around for the dropped corkscrew.

"Yeah..." she answered softly.

I looked up at the sad tone to see twin lines of tears running down her face. "Hey, now no tears. This is a house warming. That not a sad time." Getting to my knees, I knee-walked over to her across the pillows. "Come here. Come here, sis. I know."

I wrapped her in my arms as she began to cry.

"That fucking prick. I fucking loved him! I fucking...loved him. He was my life. He was my..."

"Shush, I know. I know." Pulling her into my chest, I held her as she finally let what she had been keeping bottled up for a month out. "It's alright. I understand."

"NO!" She shook her head against my chest. "No, you don't understand. You've never been married. Never given your whole life to just one person and then had them just...toss it all away for the first piece of young-pussy, that came their way." She pulled back and looked me in the face, her beautiful eyes soaked with tears. "There is no way you can understand it, brother. It has never happened to you. You were the smart one. You never fell in love."

I pulled her back hard to my chest and made my drunken mouth stay closed. She clung to me and cried herself out, her head against my shoulder while I buried my face in her fluffy curls. The strands of gray that now mixed with her brown wove together to make soft patterns of contrasting color to my unaided eyesight. I held her close, reveling in the contact. Wishing it would last forever.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"Why did you order green peppers?" She demanded, pulling them off the slice she held and putting them in the corner of the box. "You, know I can't stand veggies on a pizza!"

"Not all of us eating here tonight are pure carnivores. I happen to like to have a few toppings that are not greasy meat chunks." I picked up the discarded peppers from the box and put them on top of my second slice of pizza.

"You're weird," she said, chewing a mouth full of just pepperoni.

"I'm not the one sitting there taking the toppings off piece by piece." I countered.

Marcy shook her head. "See, this is why you never got married. You don't know proper pizza edict. The toppings are like the appetizer and the crust is the main course."

"I have so got to drag you up to Gino's East for some real pizza." I took a sip of my soda. "Pizza you have to have a fork to eat."

"That's not pizza, that is a pasta-less lasagna, with a crust. She leaned back and watched me as she ate. Then after a few moments she asked. "Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what, Miss vague questions out the blue?" I asked her as soon as I had my mouth empty.

"Get married."

"Well, I was madly and passionately I love with a married woman and I didn't think it would be right to break up a happy home just because I wanted her." I answered in full honestly, knowing she would never believe me.

"I was being serious!" She nudged my knee with her foot. "Why didn't you get married?"

I shrugged. "I seriously can't tell you the true in any other way. I was in love with someone, who was married. She had everything in life that a woman could want or be given to make her happy and...well, for me to go to her and tell her that I loved her and that I wanted her to divorce her husband, the father of her children, and run away with me...just didn't seem right." I pulled a third slice of pizza loose and gathered the green peppers off two other slices to add to it. "I've been single, basically, because I didn't want any other woman but her. Call me picky."

"I'm calling you a bullshit artist." She smirked. "Why have I never heard about this woman before now?"

"Do you have a bee in your ear? I said she was married. It's not like I'm going to wave semaphore flags from the roof top." I picked up a napkin and gave it a flutter. "I didn't want word getting around and her hearing, which she certainly would have." That I was actually having this conversation and telling the absolute truth to the woman I loved was amazing to me. Not knowing the secret she didn't seem to find it so.

"So what is she like? This secret desire of yours" she asked clearly not believing a word I was saying.

Leaning back into the sofa cushion, I closed my eyes. A smile came to my lips as I had no trouble picturing the woman sitting in front of me. "She is the most beautiful woman in the world. Soft curves, full hips, she's real easy on the eyes. With sexy legs and the most spectacular eyes. Sexy, half awake, come to my bedroom with me lover, eyes. And she's smart, one of the smartest women I've ever known. Book smart, street smart, life smart she-she's perfect. And I love her with all my heart."

Marcy sat silent for a moment, and then her head slowly tilted a bit. "I'm still not sure you're not pulling my leg, but you sounded sincere just then. So...I'll just say this. If she loves the man she is married to, then you need to hang it up. Go find yourself the world's most beautiful woman number two and leave her to live out her life."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Then the best thing you could do is just to tell her. Let her know that in the world there is at least one other person that will love her for the woman she is."

Lord, if it was that simple.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"No, no, no you are not getting out of this one! I want to know...I want to know just why you got so drunk you missed my wedding reception. I remember...I remember back then..."

"You can barely remember your name right now!" I told her, smiling. I bumped her arm with my left elbow, and leaned back into the big cushion we were sharing. The two bottles of wine, then two bottles of champagne, (and a half a bottle of very good Jamaican rum I had hogged to myself,) had rendered us both no longer holding back any minor secrets. Only the rest of that bottle of rum could have teased out of me the un-tell-able secret and luckily for me someone else had finished that a few months back.

"Hey! No evading the issue. You went to my wedding. I saw you there. You had on a very nice suit, with a ridiculous tie."

"Now wait a minute. There is nothing ridiculous about my Mrs. Pacman tie. That thing is a classic piece of Americana fashion."

"You're evading the question, yet again! Now, answer me. You were at the wedding, and then you were in Walmart, so drunk you insulted a Deacon's wife, and then you got your ass thrown into jail. Why?" she demanded.

I shrugged, and looked away from her. "It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"No, no, no bullshit. No." She poked my arm. "I will not sit here quietly and let you tell me such a bold faced lie. No. You see, I know what it was-that sent you somewhere other than my reception that day. It was my bridesmaid."

"WHAT?"

"Sharon Yanovitch. My bridesmaid. I figured it out. YOU, DOG!" She poked my arm again. "Sharon is the woman you've been in love with all these years, and she was there with her fiancé, Frank, that day at my wedding. It was the first time you had ever seen him and you got so filed with jealousy...you couldn't handle it. You went to a liquor store, got drunk and told an old Church lady she had huge tits!" My sister crowed at me.

I starred at her like she had grown a second head. "Sharon Yanovitch? Woman, you probably need to stop drinking, cause either you can't handle your liquor or you've done lost your damn mind. I'll have you know I have a lot better taste in women than Sharon...Yanovitch. My god, even the thought of her makes my skin crawl." I shivered.

"Why? She's beautiful, far prettier than any of the girls you went to school with! She was head cheerleader... she was prom queen, she was voted most beautiful senior."

"She has two brain cells! They sit in the dark and call out to each other! 'Hello, hello. Is anyone out there? It's awful dark in here. Can anyone hear me? Hello.' I would just as soon date a duck! At least it's smart enough to get out the rain and its ass is waterproof!" I shuddered. "And her fiancé? Frank! Oh my god, there is a man for the record books."

"He was valedictorian of his school!" she insisted.

"He was home-schooled!"

"He...what?" She stopped talking and looked at me blinking. "Wait, wait, wait. He said went to...wait, no, no that was Sharon said he went to Elwin.

"Frank, went to Elwin high school for about two weeks. He and I were talking, while we were waiting for you and Sharon to get done primping for the wedding, and I mentioned I heard he went to Elwin. I asked if he had played football for the Vikings. Big guy like that, I figured maybe he went out for the team. He got this nose-in-the-air look, and then told me he had quit such a public-brainwashing-institution and then told me he didn't go out for plebeian displays of machismo. That it was a total waste of time and money that could be better spent in a more productive fashion. He then began to try and tell me just how."

"Sharon said he was a genius." Marcy shrugged an apology.

"I could rest my case on the both of them with that statement." I chuckled. "His bright idea for all the money wasted on sports programs was to use it to fund genetic engineering to bring back the passenger pigeon." At her frown I smiled and did my best impersonation of Sharon's husband. "It's an established fact that the extinction of the supermassive flocks of those birds is the true cause of global warming, and that by replacing those flocks we could easily stop the end of the world."

My sister sat there for a second just looking at me. "Seriously?"

I nodded, and popped my cheek with my finger.

"Yep. And he wants to put fart-gas collecting tanks on the backs of every cow in the world, to definitively prove that cow farts cannot be a contributing factor." I picked up the wine bottle next to me and poured the last two drops into my glass. "Sharon? The love of my life? Not in a frigging acid induced nightmare. Here's to your bridesmaid and her wonderful husband. They were made for each other. Cheers." I let the wine drip into my mouth, and then smacked my lips. "We are out of wine."

"That's just as well. I'm too drunk to see straight as is. This is all your fault. I don't do this. I don't sit around and get shit faced drunk. This isn't me at all."

"Oh. Which 'me' would that be?" I put the wine bottle on the floor next to me and absently gave it a spin. "The 'me' who is a great mom, or maybe the 'me' who has a shithead for an ex-husband? Could it be the 'me' who can now be the artist she always wanted to be...but because of the shithead couldn't be? Is it that 'me', or is this some other 'me' that I need to know about? I mean just how many Marcy's are there in this room?"

"Just one, the 'normal' me." She watched the spinning bottle slow to a stop. When it did she leaned over my legs and spun it again. For a moment I had her leaned across my lap, the scent of her hair filling my nose as she sat back up. Then she was pressed against my left side, her head resting on my shoulder. "Just plain old normal me."

I leaned my head over till my ear rested in those soft curls. "You've never been just plain. At no time in your life have you ever been...just...plain. You were beautiful when you were in high school. Even more beautiful in college. You were stunningly beautiful at your wedding and then you only got more so after the girls were born." Reaching down, I gave the stopped bottle one more twist, and watched it wobble round and round. "You are by far the most beautiful woman in the world."

As the empty glass bottle turned I watched the play of lights as they revolved.

"What did you just say?" she asked.

"I said that you're the most beautiful woman in the world." I was absently reaching for the stopped bottle when her hand caught my chin and turned my head to face her. Her eyes were wide and her expression was pure shock. "What?"

"Say it again," she demanded.

I laughed, "What? Do you need your ego stroked tonight?" I shook my head and smiled. "I said you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Even as I said it, I saw in her face what I had done. Oh, shit!

Blinking, her eyes never once leaving my face, her fingers left my chin and caressed the side of my face right by my ear. I couldn't help but half close my eyes and lean into that caress.

"Would you...would you like to tell me something? Something important." My sister's hand began to shake a little.

With an embarrassed shake of my head, I looked away from her to the empty wine bottle that was now pointing right at the two of us. Huh. Appropriate.

"Hey, don't turn away. Talk to me. It's okay." Her fingers were back on my chin but I didn't let her move my face. "Please?"

"What do you want me to tell you?" I asked, after taking a deep breath. The alcohol buzz was suddenly leaving me very quickly. "I think I've already said enough. We probably won't remember half of this in the morning. Tomorrow."

"It already is morning. Today became tomorrow about three hours ago. Now I want you to look at me...look at me, and talk...To...Me."

Swallowing, I turned to look at my sister. Her eyes began to take in every inch of my face. Those sexy, half-awake, bedroom eyes.

"Is it me?" Marcy asked when I couldn't say anything. "Me?"

I took a deep breath and had to move my eyes, I couldn't meet her gaze. "What do you want? A confession? I told you I was a pervert, now you know just how much of one I am." Out the corner of my eyes I saw her brow furl as she frowned. Then her hand was taking mine into her soft fingers. When I looked down I saw the whiter band of skin where her wedding band would normally be.

Her fingers tightened on mine.

"I don't think you're a pervert. You're just lonely and a bit confused. It's okay. You've just been alone too long is all, I understand. I'm a little flattered that you have a crush on me. It's sweet. How...hey, hey," She gave my fingers a quick squeeze. "Look up here... how long have you felt this way towards me?"

A crush? A crush? I began to chuckle as I looked up at her beautiful face.

"You were right, well partly right anyway; I did leave your wedding because I was jealous. Does that give you a hint?" I asked.

She blinked as the full details of our earlier conversations began to filter back to her through the alcohol fumes.

"Really?" she said the word as if stunned. Her fingers began to slowly slip from mine.

"Yeah." Taking back my hand, I looked away. I pulled a knee up to my chest, hugged it with my arms, and rested my chin on my kneecap. I couldn't look at her, and see that growing look in her eyes. "You came walking out that room at the Church, in your wedding dress, my god you looked like an angel, and then I had to watch you walk down the aisle on Dad's arm and put another man's ring on your finger." I clamped my teeth together on the bitter memory. "Everyone was smiling, and congratulating you..., he-and it felt like knives were in my heart. Then a couple of the groomsmen made a joke about the wedding night and the honeymoon and I felt like my soul had caught fire. By the time everyone was throwing rice I was already in my car. I spent the next two hours downing shot after shot, bottle after bottle of Jack Daniels. Till I, somehow, ended up in Walmart. Fucked if I know how I got there."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because all I could picture was him with you, in your arms. In your bed. The two of your together. And every time I closed my eyes-I saw that and...I would take another drink.

"No. Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, her hand touching my elbow.

"Oh, yeah how would that conversation have played out?" I chuckled. "Hey sis, have I ever told you that I want to make love to you till you're screaming my name? How many times? Oh well for the rest of my life of course. Why? Well, because you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and I'm madly in love with you, of course!" I chuckled ruefully. "Oh, yeah that would have been a wonderful conversation."

"One for the record books," she said softly, using one of my favorite phrases.

"Yeah, call Guinness." I agreed. When her hand brushed my cheek I realized a single tear had fallen from my eye. Embarrassed, I moved my face from her touch. "I need to go."

She laughed. "You, little brother, are going nowhere but in there on that bed and to sleep." She levered herself up onto her knees and leaned in next to my face. "Because if you're so drunk you've confessed to being in love with me-you're far too drunk to drive. Come on."