Making Me Complete

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Siblings discover there's only one person they can trust.
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Iris & Robert 1: Making me complete

Author's note: This is not a story to wank to; if anything, you might find it quirky when compared to other stories. If you came here for sexual gratification, you're likely to be disappointed. There is sex, of course, but it's not the main focus.

This is the first part of five. It has been edited following helpful feedback from readers. It's written in UK English and contains a fair bit of British colloquialism, although nothing that should detract from understanding what is going on.

Bear in mind, though, that the perspective is that of a person with a cognitive development disorder. This is reflected in the narrative. So if you think 'what the...', that's probably because the protagonist has a very different way of thinking from you.

All characters in this story are fictitious, and if you think there's any resemblance with your actual life, your undoubtedly strained relationship with the rest of your family is probably a bigger problem.

* * *

The bus was late. Or at least it was going to be late. It was supposed to arrive at 16:32 and it was 16:31 and it still wasn't in sight. If it were to arrive at 16:32, it should have come across the corner by now. But it hadn't.

It was 16:32 and the bus still wasn't there. It was definitely late now. That made me nervous. I don't like it when things don't happen as they are supposed to. My therapist told me that it didn't matter. The bus would arrive sooner or later. Maybe there was a lot of traffic, or perhaps there were a lot of people getting on and off the bus.

But that got me worried even more. Maybe my favourite seat had been taken. Maybe there would be somebody else sitting where I wanted to sit. Where would I sit in that case? To try to calm down, I closed my eyes and put my fingers on my temples. I rubbed them gently. This always helped to calm me down whenever I got stressed.

However, I couldn't do that too long, or I might not see the bus. It was 16:33 and finally the bus came around the corner. It would be 16:34 before it arrived at the stop. I just hoped that my seat would be empty.

Thankfully, it was. That, at least, was a blessing. Now the bus would arrive at 16:50 near my flat. Or more likely, at 16:52.

I counted red cars on the way home, like I always did. I like red cars. After graduation and getting a job, I wanted to get a red car for myself. Preferably something sleek and sporty. Maybe that would help me to get a girlfriend, because I wasn't very good at that.

Four red cars so far. There was a fifth one, and a nice one at that: a 2013 model Nissan 370Z. A bit out of my budget range, though. Unless I'd buy it second-hand, but I didn't like the idea of that. I didn't want a car that belonged to someone else before. Six red cars now. And here was my stop.

* * *

There was a red car parked on the other side of the road. But it didn't count, because I wasn't riding on the bus anymore. Although the car had been there when the bus arrived at its stop, so perhaps I should count it anyway? On the other hand, I hadn't seen it until I alighted from the bus.

I was still considering whether or not to count the parked car when I arrived at the front door of the flat. The door wasn't locked, which meant that Iris was in. 'Hi Iris,' I called as I came in. 'I'm home.'

'Hi Robert,' she replied. 'You left the salt on the table this morning.'

'Oh, sorry,' I said. 'Won't happen again.' That was a lie, obviously, and both of us knew that, but it helped her relax.

Iris didn't like it if things were out of place. In her own room, everything was always in exactly the same position --the correct position, according to her-- and I rarely went there, for fear of disturbing something and getting her all upset. My own room was perhaps not so perfect. It wasn't exactly a mess, but Iris didn't like to come in, because she would inevitably start moving my things around, which would get me annoyed.

So we compromised by avoiding each other's rooms, and by keeping the communal parts clean, with things in the right place. More or less, at least. Iris had to learn to be more flexible when it came to the spaces that we share, but it was still a bit hard for her, especially if she was stressed.

'I saw six red cars on the way home,' I told Iris. 'Or perhaps seven. I haven't yet decided yet.'

'Uh huh,' she replied. Iris didn't particularly care about cars, not even red ones. I knew that, but it made me feel better when I talked about them. Most people didn't understand, and didn't accept it either that I always talked about the same things.

But Iris does. Iris understands me so much better than anybody else. She accepts my peculiarities, just like accept hers. You see, Iris is my sister -- twin sister even. Although she likes to call me 'little brother' because she was born fifteen minutes before I. Those fifteen minutes make absolutely no difference over those nineteen years, but she's always been protective of me. And I of her, for that matter.

Iris is very much like I. And I don't just mean that we're twins. I have rather soft features for a male, and we have the same hair colour, and the same colour eyes. People did mistake us for twin girls when we were younger, also because we both had our hair long. Having my hair cut freaks me out completely. It hurts having my scalp touched, so our parents decided to be practical and leave my hair long. Iris has the same problem. These days, my hair is shoulder-length, kept in a ponytail, whereas Iris's hair is loose and goes right to her bottom. The hair is how you can tell us apart, aside from the most obvious difference of course: that she's female, and I'm male.

But the similarities aren't just physical. She has the same condition that I have, that condition that went undiagnosed for too long, and which nearly cost our parents their marriage, and which, quite frankly, has fucked up our lives quite nicely.

Always being the odd one out. Always being the one who makes an awkward comment without realising it. Always feeling that there's something wrong, without knowing what. The bullying. Never really trusting anybody. But mostly, the not knowing. That is, until a psychologist friend of our parents suggested that we might have Asperger's syndrome. Not immediately obvious, but just enough to make social interactions really difficult.

After the initial denials --'that's just the way they are' -- there had been a diagnosis and therapy, but it had been little, and late. Our parents still had trouble accepting the fact, and blamed inoculations, or the wrong kind of food, or whatever else, except the real reason: their genes. Blame everything except themselves. It's not like they could help it, don't get me wrong. And don't blame them for it either. Why should I? You can't blame somebody for who they are, even though that had happened often enough to Iris and me.

The one positive aspect of having Asperger's syndrome is that we did really well in school, without having to try hard. But truthfully, I would have settled for having to work hard, if that would have meant that my childhood would have been easier.

'One of the red cars was a Nissan 370Z,' I said. 'The 2013 model.'

'Is that a nice car?' asked Iris. It was nice that she asked, even though she didn't care much about cars. But she cared about me.

'Yes, it is,' I replied. 'I wouldn't mind having one. But it's too expensive for me. I could never afford it, unless I get a really good job and save up for several years.'

'You should get a good job,' said Iris. 'IT people will always be in demand.'

That was true, I probably should get a good job once I finished university. So should she, once she received her mathematics degree.

I'm usually not very good at gauging people's moods, with the exception of my sister. Something was bugging her. I could tell by the way she talked, and that she didn't chat about elliptic curves or some other security-related subject --she was fascinated by cryptography-- and quite simply by the look on her face. It was not a happy look.

'What's wrong, sis?' I asked.

She didn't say anything for a couple of moments. Finally, she spoke.

'You remember that guy that I mentioned, the one I was dating?'

I remembered him. I'd met him once, too, and decided I didn't like him very much. I'd said this to Iris, who got offended. It was actually the first time she had dated, and she became like a different person. She suddenly was concerned about her looks, something that hadn't really been on her radar until then. I had envied her, because I think it's much easier for girls to get a boyfriend than the other way around.

Or at least, it's easier to get someone to have sex with you. Although I'd read that women want more from a boyfriend than just sex. Heck, I'd settle for sex right now. It looked like Iris was going to get just that before I did, and it made me both jealous and envious. Envious, because I wanted more from life. I wanted someone that I could share everything with, including sex. And jealous, because it looked like this loser was going to take Iris away from me, even though she was an adult and had her own life.

She didn't mention his name, and she had said 'was dating,' like it was in the past. Could it be...?

'Yes, I remember him. What about him?'

'I dumped him.'

'Oh.' I couldn't think of anything meaningful to say, so I told her, 'I'm sorry.' Even though I wasn't.

'Don't be,' said Iris. 'Turned out he was a total asshole.'

For once, my social instincts --for want of a better word-- had been right. I decided not to enquire about the reason, because Iris would tell me, if and when she wanted. And I didn't want to inadvertently say something that might hurt her; hurt her even more than she already was.

'A girl told me that he's made a wager to sleep with all the girls in our year. He figured that I would be an easy mark on the tally, because...' She didn't finish the sentence.

Because she'd never had a boyfriend. I knew that, and she knew that I knew that, so there wasn't anything to say, really. I just looked at her, let her know that I was there for her.

'I would have actually slept with him. It had it all planned, so I knew exactly what was going to happen and when. Because...' Again, she didn't finish, and again she didn't need to. She was crying now.

I felt very angry at the guy. My sister is the single most important person in my life, the only one who really understands me, and he had hurt her deeply. Within a fraction of a second, I thought of numerous ways that I could get back at him, hurt him twice as much as he had hurt Iris. But the reality was that he was a big guy, strong, and half a head taller than I. And what good would it do? Nothing. It wouldn't change anything.

What I could do, though, was console my sister. I went to sit next to her and hugged her. I'm the only person that can do that. She freaks out at being touched by other people, but we've been extremely close ever since we were born, and somehow it works for us.

'Hey now, hey now,' I said. 'It's OK. It's OK. He's hurt you, but not as much as he would have hurt you if your friend hadn't told you. He's not going to hurt you anymore. I won't let him. I'll look after my big sister.'

She managed a little smile between the tears when I called her my big sister. She clung to me, the only person who really knew her, and slowly the hurt and sadness dissipated. They didn't entirely disappear, but at least they weren't so raw any longer.

'Why don't we have a pizza delivered and watch a film together?' I suggested. 'Like old times, when we were kids?'

'Sure,' she replied. 'It might take my mind off things.'

* * *

The pizzas arrived reasonably quickly, with enough time for me to select a film. I'd set up the local area network in our flat, which meant that you could watch any film, stored on a server, on any screen. Whether the TV in the living room, or any PC, laptop or tablet. Or even on your smartphone, if for some unfathomable reason you'd want to do that. My porn collection I keep on my own PC, though. It's not something that I would like to share, especially not with my sister.

Selecting a film was another issue. Even though Iris loved them, a romantic comedy was probably not a good idea. Nor was an erotic thriller, for that matter, so no Basic Instinct. A cartoon? Too light-hearted. Science fiction then? Yes, science fiction would do. I chose Blade Runner.

We were half sitting, half lying on the sofa. It's the kind where you can put an extension in front of it, so it becomes a bit like a bed. We had just finished the pizzas, and reached the part where Deckard visits Sebastian. We're both slow eaters.

We hadn't said a word since the film started, but now Iris spoke.

'I am so fed up with this bloody Asperger's that I have. That we have. At this rate, I'm never going to get a boyfriend. Because I really don't know if I can trust someone. I just can't tell if he's genuine. And I think I'd rather be alone than be hurt again.'

I put my hand on her leg as a sign of support. 'I know, sis, I know all too well. Once, a couple of years ago, a girl in school pretended to like me, but she did it only to make fun of me. I know exactly what you mean. I can't trust anybody either. Except you of course.'

Iris remained silent for a while, but she was thinking. 'What did you just say?'

'What?' I asked.

'What did you just say? About trust?'

'That I can't trust anybody?' I wondered where this was going.

'And?' she insisted.

'Anybody except you?' I ventured.

'You can't trust anybody except me.' She thought for a short while again. 'And I can't trust anybody except you.'

'Yes, I suppose so.' I really had no idea where this was headed.

Some more silence followed as we looked at the screen, although neither of us was really watching. She was thinking about something, turning the idea in her head a million times.

'Maybe you should be my boyfriend then,' said Iris suddenly.

I dropped the remote from shock. 'What? What is that?' I blurted out. Her remark had caught me completely off-guard.

She was toying with a cushion that she'd been holding. 'Well,' she said, 'given that we're both hopeless at starting any kind of relationship, we might as well invest in the one relationship that actually works. The one between you and me.'

'But... but... when you say 'boyfriend,' I stammered, 'do you mean...' My voice trailed off.

'Doing boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. Go to the cinema. Eat out together. Taking walks while holding hands. Having this one person with which you can share anything. Anything.'

'We do go to the cinema and eat out occasionally,' I observed. 'Holding hands, no, but other than that, we pretty much do all of these things.'

'Not everything, Robert. Not everything.'

'Do you mean...?' I couldn't ask the question, because the repercussions would overload my brain. Instinctively, my hands went to my temples to rub them.

'I mean everything. We know one another. We trust one another. It'll just be... a new phase in our relationship, so to say. You probably would like to move on from watching porn and wanking, am I right?'

'How did you...,' I asked.

'I guessed, and it looks like I guessed right. And I'm a bit fed up with having to use a vibrator for relief.'

'You have a vibrator?' It was not something that I would have thought my sister would use. But then again, I didn't think of my sister in that way. Not until 30 seconds ago, that is, and now that I did, the thought was disturbing, to say the least.

'Several actually, but that's not something I'm going to discuss with you. Not yet anyway. But I'm ready for a bit of slap and tickle.'

'But we can't! We're siblings!' I objected.

'Says who we can't?' asked Iris.

'There are laws against it!' I told her.

'No there aren't. Not in this country,' she said.

'But we can't get married!' I said.

'Married? Who said anything about marriage? I don't need to marry you. Marrying makes you family. You're already family.'

Her arguments were totally logical. Still, it wasn't right. A boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, where there ought to be a brother/sister relationship, was against the rules. Some rules anyway, although I couldn't quite remember which rules. Or wait... procreation! That was it!

'We can't have...' I couldn't get myself to say the word, because I didn't want to think about it. 'We can't be boyfriend and girlfriend, because if had a baby it would probably be deformed or something.'

'A baby?' she asked. 'Don't be daft. I don't want a baby. Ever. I don't want to pass on my mess of a gene pool and have a child go through the same shit that I went through. Do you?'

I admitted that no, having a baby was not something that I ought to do.

'So what's stopping us then?' asked Iris.

'What will people say? Our parents for example.'

'So we don't tell them. We don't see that much of them anyway.'

'But it's against morality,' I said.

'Morality? Morality is other people deciding what's good for you,' she replied. 'Society imposing its beliefs on individuals. How has society treated you so far?'

Like shit it had, but that didn't mean I could just shrug it off. Desperately, I was trying to find a reason why I shouldn't be Iris's boyfriend, but there really wasn't much I could say to contradict her. Women, over the centuries, have used many methods to seduce men. Using logic had to be a novel approach, though.

'No objections then?' she asked.

Plenty of objections, but I knew she would easily brush them off. So I remained silent.

'That's settled then,' she said. 'Switch off that TV.'

I switched off the TV.

'Good,' she said. 'Now let's make a list of things we'll be doing as boyfriend and girlfriend.' She got out her phone.

'Right,' she continued. 'I think we can start with taking a walk holding hands. We could do that tomorrow.' She looked at me.

'OK,' I said.

'Let's go to the park. We can walk there, hand in hand, and sit on a bench, looking at the ducks. You like looking at the ducks, right?'

That was true, I like looking at the ducks. 'Yes,' I said, 'I like ducks.'

'Hmm,' she added. 'We could actually make a picnic out of it. That would be nice.'

She didn't really expect my opinion on it, so I made a grunt that she took for approval.

'Then, the day after tomorrow. We'll go to the cinema. We have to decide on what film.'

'There's a science fiction that...,' I started to say.

'We can't go and watch a science fiction film on a date. It's not very romantic, is it? I was thinking of a romantic comedy,' she interrupted me.

Ah yes, romantic comedy. I might have guessed she would have chosen that.

'And on Saturday, we will have a romantic dinner. Afterwards, we'll go home and have sex.'

'We... we have sex on Saturday?' I asked. She didn't seem to notice the panic in my voice.

'Well I'm not going to have sex with you on the first or second date. I'm not that kind of girl,' said Iris.

'That's not what I meant,' I said. 'It's just that... having sex...' My voice trailed off.

'We talked about this and it makes perfect sense,' said Iris.

Yes, we did talk about it, but Iris always won any argument, so I remained silent again. She took this as my consent.

'So that's all planned then. Tomorrow holding hands, Friday the cinema and Saturday the dinner.'

And the sex.

* * *

The next day, I was very nervous at university and didn't get much done. To make matters worse, the bus was five minutes late and my favourite place had been taken.

It got better, though, when I saw Iris. On the one hand I was dreading what would happen, but on the other hand I was simply always happy to see her. She was such an integral and important part of my life.