My Cousin Cassie

Author's Note: The following is based on an idea that popped into my head and wouldn't let go. While all characters and scenarios are entirely fictitious, it is inspired by real events, people, and emotions. I hope you enjoy.

***

When I was a kid, I was very close with my cousin Cassie.

And when I say close, I mean very close. Closer than most cousins are. Closer than most siblings are. Closer than most people are.

I suppose the blame for this can be placed at the feet of our parents, or more specifically our mothers. As fraternal twins, they had a naturally strong sisterly bond, so strong that they made a pact early in their lives to experience all its major milestones together. They attended college together, got married to their husbands together (a double courthouse wedding to be precise), even bought their homes together, right next door to each other.

The next step? Raising a family. Together, of course.

And so after heavy coordinating and intensive planning, Cassie and I were born only a few months apart (I'm the older one), and from the very beginning we were forged to have a strong bond of our own.

As infants, our mothers nurtured us as if we were one, taking advantage of their close proximity to each other to schedule "nursing dates," which is exactly what it sounds like. My mom and aunt would get together and feed us at the same time, talking and trading suburban gossip as Cassie and I suckled at their breasts. On the occasion that my aunt was indisposed or struggling to produce milk, my mother was happy to offer her other breast to Cassie, and in the few times this happened, she claims we held hands.

Considering how things ended up, I'm privy to believe her.

As children we spent every waking moment we could with each other. We played together, ate together, bathed together, and slept together.

Indeed, we had sleep overs all the time, alternating between each of our houses every weekend. The Saturday nights of our formative years consisted of us huddled in bed together after a long day of playing, whispering and giggling under the blankets deep into the night, to the point where our parents often had to ruin the fun and insist we go to sleep. We'd just shut our eyes until they left and go right back to whispering, making sure to be a little quieter. Eventually we'd fall asleep, almost always in each other's arms.

Our attachment to one another only grew as we did. By the time Cassie and I entered grade school we we're inseparable, to the point where our moms worked with the school to get us into the same class. This only lasted until third grade, where we proved disruptive enough that our teacher insisted Cassie be transferred to another class. This upset us both deeply, but the blow was softened knowing that, at the end of the day, we'd return to each other. At this point my mom had started working, so I had to hang at Cassie's house for a few hours after school until she or my dad picked me up. We'd pass the time by eating cookies while watching cartoons in a blanket fort, or with the occasional dip in their indoor pool. I vividly remember the water being so cold, and us discovering a way around that by taking a cold shower before jumping in. We took them together of course.

Our relationship grew so strong that our parents began to genuinely worry that we were becoming too close. A few times we told them that we were going to get married when we grew up, just like our moms and dads, and they would have to explain to us why that wasn't possible.

"You're cousins," they would tell us. "You can't get married."

"But why?" we would ask, and they'd do their best to dance around what was obvious to them but not to us. To us, sharing our lives seemed only natural. After all, we had been doing it all our lives.

It wasn't our parents however that eventually separated us. No, it was something much more powerful and primal.

It was puberty.

With the advent of adolescence, Cassie's and my relationship deteriorated quickly. At first we just started being kind of awkward around each other, which seemed innocuous at first. But then we started spending less time together, only seeing each other occasionally, around birthdays and holidays.

In school we barely talked. In fact it seemed like Cassie was intentionally avoiding me; prioritizing new friends and pursuing boys over spending any time with me. At first I was crushed, and I spent the early days of my teenage years lamenting the loss of the person whom I naively thought was my life partner. Obviously at this point I was old enough to know why we could never be more than cousins, but I was fine with that. We were family after all. Why couldn't we remain friends?

But as time marched on, I became depressingly accustomed to her absence, and eventually I had to accept that we had simply drifted apart.

It happens to everyone, I told myself. We shared a childhood, and now it's over.

The last real moment I spent with her was at our high school graduation ceremony. Our moms, themselves becoming distant from each other (which is a whole other story), insisted on us taking a picture together. Dressed in our graduation gowns and caps, we smiled and shook hands, during which our eyes locked but for the briefest moment before departing, for the final time.

By the time I had graduated college it was a rare day that I ever gave Cassie more than a passing thought. Despite still being alive she might as well have been dead; utterly absent from my life in every conceivable way, and I was well past the point of caring.

Eventually Cassie got married, bought a house, had kids, the whole shebang. And I wasn't involved in any of it. Aside from the occasional update from my parents, her life going forward remained mostly a mystery, and that was fine with me. I told myself I was over it, that I had moved on.

Still though, I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a moment here or there where I remembered her fondly, and all the wonderful childhood moments we shared.

Perhaps in another life we wouldn't have ended up this way.

***

"Bryan? Is that you?"

I turned away from the carton of eggs I'd been inspecting, to the unfamiliar feminine voice calling my name. It took only a moment to realize who it was. I'd recognize that red hair anywhere.

"Oh, hey Cassie.

"Oh my god!" Before I could react she took a few tepid steps away from her grocery cart and wrapped her arms around me. They hung limp and loose around my chest, betraying the awkward nature of this chance encounter. "It's been so long."

"Yeah it has." I took a step back to place the carton of eggs in the front seat of my cart. "How are you?"

"You know, I'm okay." She smiled, stretching her freckled cheeks from ear to ear. "Well, as okay as a recently divorced middle-aged woman can be."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, acting as if my parents hadn't already filled me in.

"What about you?" Cassie parted her hair behind her ear, drawing my attention to the silver streaks hiding within. "How's life been treatin' ya?

"I'm fine. Just working, living day by day. You know..." I trailed off and winced, fearing how boring I sounded.

"You're not married? No kids?"

"No, not at the moment." I winced again.

Cassie's eyes went wide. "Huh. I figured you'd be hitched by now. Well, you look good all the same Bryan."

I never considered myself to be particularly attractive. I'm just another skinny white guy with brown hair, so the compliment took me by surprise. It wasn't something I heard very often. And it was the last thing I ever expected to hear from her again.

"Thanks," I managed to say. "So do you."

It wasn't a lie. Cassie had been on the bigger side the last time I saw her, and seeing her now it was clear she had lost a decent amount of weight. Grey jeans sat snug on her wide hips, accentuating her curves, and a tie-dye blouse couldn't hide her sizable breasts.

"Well it was good seeing you." Cassie placed her hands on the handle of her cart, suggesting our brief reunion was about to end before it could begin.

"You too," I said, doing the same.

We pushed past one another, and just as I was about to turn a corner to another aisle I heard her once more.

"Bryan, wait."

My heart stopped. "Yeah Cassie?"

"Do you want to stop by my place for a bit tonight? Maybe have a drink or something and catch up? It's been so long..."

A part of me wanted to deny her and move on, but another look at her red hair and that freckled smile, and for a moment I was back to my childhood. Our childhood.

"Sure," I said. "That'd be nice."

"Great." She pulled out a pen from her purse and wrote something on the empty edge of her grocery list before tearing it off. "Here's my address."

"Thanks. What time should I stop by."

"Whenever. I'm all alone this weekend, so whatever works for you."

"I'll come by around eight, that okay?"

"Perfect. And I'll make sure to grab some Oreo's so we can have some cookies and milk. Ya know, like old times?"

"You actually remember that?"

"Of course. I remember eating a whole package just ourselves."

"Yeah, and we didn't feel so good afterwards."

A hushed laugh escaped both our lips, then a smile.

"I'll see you at eight," I said.

"See you at eight."

I watched Cassie turn away and head opposite my direction, my eyes locked on the swaying of her thick motherly hips until she disappeared, each step singing songs of possibilities that made my heart return to life with a combination of fear and elation.

This is not how I thought my Saturday night was gonna go.

***

It was exactly eight o'clock when I pulled into Cassie's driveway, where I was greeted by a typical middle class suburban home, nestled in the outskirts of a typical middle class suburban neighborhood. An unmistakable fog of sad autumn air sat heavy over it as I approached and pressed the doorbell. A few seconds passed before a pair of light footsteps approached and opened the door.

"Good to see ya again stranger." Cassie waved her hand forward. "Please, come in."

"Thanks." I gestured to a line of plastic wall hooks across the room. "May I?"

"Of course, be my guest."

As I hung up my coat, I sneaked in another look at Cassie while she closed the door behind me. She was still wearing her tie-dye shirt, but had traded her hip-hugging jeans for a pair of loose-fitting purple pajama pants. Along with my combo of button-up long sleeve and blue jeans, neither of us were dressed to impress, which was oddly reassuring.

"You have any trouble finding me?"

"Nah, just followed Google maps," I said.

"Right, duh. Well, feel free to look around, but be warned, you might get depressed."

I feigned a laugh, and followed her further inside into the kitchen. It was a mild mess, with plates and pots scattered around the sink.

"Sorry for the chaos," said Cassie, looking slightly ashamed. "Turns out it's easier to evade chores when there's no one to take care of anymore but yourself."

"It's okay," I assured her. "My place isn't much better."

"And where is that?"

"Pretty close actually. About 20 minutes from here, in the apartments off of Oak street."

"Nice. I didn't know we were so close."

"Yeah, me neither."

A silence fell around us as we both realized how ironic that statement was. So much time had passed, and now, being around each other, alone for the first time in decades, I think it was beginning to set in for both of us how truly distant we had become. How else could I explain what Cassie said next.

"God, aren't we pathetic?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"We're so formal with each other. You'd think we were strangers."

"Well...we kind of are."

The words struggled to leave my throat, but I forced them out. If this night had any chance for reconciliation, the truth needed to be said, and I think Cassie agreed.

"How about this? Why don't you have a seat in the living room while I get us something to drink. Maybe that'll loosen us up."

"Sure, uh, okay."

The living room was quite the opposite of the kitchen; pristine in a way that suggested it hadn't been occupied in some time. A dark brown velvet couch sat across from a large flat-screen television, separated by a small coffee table. The walls were adorned with art and photos of what I assumed were her kids. I stopped to study one of two young boys, dressed in sweaters and smiling in that forced way that suggested a professional photo shoot.

"Your sons?" I asked Cassie as I saw her returning, her hands behind her back.

"Yep. The older one is Ethan, and the younger is Michael. They're both grown now."

"Well they're unmistakably yours. They've both got your red hair."

"Yes, unfortunately."

I flinched in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"They were teased a lot for it," she said. "More than I was."

"You were teased for your red hair?"

She nodded.

"That's...really stupid," I said.

"Well, kids are stupid." She gestured to the couch. "Come, sit. I have an important decision that needs making."

My mind and heart were racing on my short journey to the couch. I could tell Cassie was trying really hard to set me at ease and reconnect, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The one thing I was sure about though was that she was lonely, and the feeling was mutual. Even that early on, I could tell something was in motion, I just wasn't sure what direction it was moving toward.

"So, you choose." Cassie removed her hands from her back, revealing a bottle of red wine in one hand, and a freshly packed joint in the other. "Wine or grass?"

"Hmm, tough choice." I rubbed my chin, pretending the choice was hard when it wasn't. "But I think I'll go with grass."

Cassie smiled. "I knew it."

"What?"

"I knew you were a pothead. Lucky for you that makes two of us." She sat the bottle of wine on the coffee table, took a seat next to me, and lit the joint with a lighter she pulled from the pocket of her pajama pants. "This is my best stuff; great for easing anxiety."

"I'm all for that."

"Oh, so you admit your anxious?" she asked before taking a hit.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I said. "Are you?"

"Oh, most definitely," she said, exhaling. "Can't you tell?"

Just then I noticed her hand shaking, the smoldering joint vibrating ever so slightly between her fingers. "Well now that you've pointed it out, yeah I do."

"Good, so now that we've established how fucking nervous we both are, we can move forward." Cassie passed me the joint. "So? What've you been up to? What's your life like? Fill me in cuz."

Cuz. It had been a literal life time ago since I heard her call me that. "It's not that interesting I'm afraid."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think," she assured me. "Can't be any worse than mine."

"You seem to have done well for yourself." I took a small hit and exhaled. "All things considered."

"I guess. I try to tell myself that. Only works some days."

"Take a look at my life and you'll feel better." I handed her back the joint. "At least you made something out of yours. At least you're not perpetually single, working the same dead end job since college.

"And where is that?" asked Cassie.

"The Pause N' Play outside the old strip mall. It's a video game store."

"What do you do there?"

"I'm a manager."

She lightly thumped me on the shoulder. "That's not so bad! You could be doing a lot worse. And you've always liked video games, so it's right up your alley."

"I guess. It's just, between my getting older and typical corporate overreach, it's not as cool as it used to be when I first started. And the pay is mediocre at best. Though I suppose for one guy it's more than enough."

"I see." Cassie closed her eyes and took a long drag, creating a soft sizzle that broke the silence. "And you really don't have a girlfriend?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I just find it really shocking is all. You're a decent looking guy. I used to tell you how cute you were all the time."

"But not when it mattered most."

My words startled even me, bursting forth from my psyche without warning or foresight. They were so forthcoming. So revealing.

"Sorry Cassie, that came out wrong-"

"No, please, don't be," she interrupted before passing me the joint. "I know I was the one who backed off first. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"I don't necessarily blame you." I took a drag and exhaled slowly. "I wasn't the most entertaining kind of guy to spend time with. You wanted a fun and adventurous youth, and I just wanted to hide from the world and play video games."

"That's no excuse," said Cassie. "I should have been there for you. We were both going through shit, and we should have had each other's backs, like we did when we were kids. It's just, I got so caught up in trying to be popular and having friends that I lost sight of us. And in doing so I..."

She stopped, and through glossy wet eyes gathered the courage to say what we both knew needed to be said. "I lost the purest, most honest relationship I've ever had. And for that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Bry."

"Cass..." Her admission shocked me, leaving me speechless. I reached out, my left hand hovering over hers, tempted to give her through touch what words could not. "I don't know what to say."

"Say whatever's on your mind. It's what we're here to do. Clear the air."

I took a deep breath and handed the joint back to Cassie. "I did feel abandoned by you. For a time. But I don't hold a grudge. Well, mostly."

Cassie took an exceedingly long drag, her brown eyes never leaving mine, listening. Seeing them now made me realize just how intensely I missed her. She was my childhood, my rock, my foundation. I longed to return there, and she was the closest way I could. Always would be.

"But we were kids," I continued. "We both made mistakes. It's not like I made much effort either. I guess I should apologize too." I finally stopped hovering and placed my hand on hers. "I'm sorry."

As Cassie exhaled, she blinked, and produced a single shining tear. It rolled down her cheek, and without a thought I reached out and wiped it away with my right thumb. Her eyes called attention to it, sitting heavy on her cheek, bringing awareness to the intimacy that had suddenly blossomed between us.

"Oh uh, sorry."

I pulled away, expecting Cassie to as well, but instead she reached out and pulled my hand back, holding on with a gentle grip.

"Don't be," she said. "It's nice to feel your touch again. Makes me realize how much I missed it." She ran her thumb lightly over the backside of my hand, sending shivers of relief across my body. "Do you miss it too?"

I merely nodded, and for a drug-induced lifetime we sat across from each other, holding each other's hand, absorbing each other's touch, all the while reactions both physical and emotional swirled within me, tossing and churning down to my manhood. It grew with excitement and fear and longing and regret, two decades worth of it, all so potent I was hard almost immediately.

Cassie took a quick contemplative look at the joint before handing it to me. "I think that's enough for me; I'm already completely blitz. The rest is yours."

"Thanks."

I took another long puff, attempting to think of something to say that could distract her from my obvious hardon. As far as I could tell, she hadn't noticed, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"Your turn," I finally said, releasing a large cloud of smoke from my mouth. "How're things with you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Cassie."It's been hard since the divorce. I'm not used to being alone, especially in such a big house. It's so...empty." She sighed. "Part of me wishes Charlie and I had separated earlier. At least I'd still have the kids to keep me sane. Hell, it's not even the only divorce in my life."