Sole Sister

We clinked our glasses together and each took a sip of the cold wine. I tried to think of exactly what Dill might have meant by the toast. Was it a reference to her starting college? To me starting my life over without Jane? To some nebulous future that she and I might have? Then, she sat back down on the bed, this time facing me with one leg crossed over the other.

"How are you doing really, Billy?" she asked, all of her playfulness having been chilled by the cold Chardonnay and the toast it had prompted. She seemed intent on talking to me about Jane, even though she knew I really didn't want to. I think she found herself in a position similar to Darcey's - that she had to do some explaining for her sister.

I knew she was trying to help. I didn't think it would work, but I went along anyway. "I'm just sad, I guess. Maybe a little disillusioned. I guess I thought I'd found a soulmate. Boy was I wrong!"

"I don't think you were wrong, Billy," she said sipping her wine. "Jane told me a lot about how she felt about you, really a lot. In fact, when we drove down to see you that weekend at your parents' house, we talked about you the whole way down and back. She was nuts about you, Billy! She was going to ask you if you wanted to live with her in the fall. That weekend she seemed like she was in it for the long haul."

"Dill, the long haul, really? She stopped thinking about me the minute the two of you got back up here. She was back with Chip in a day or two at the most."

"I know, Billy, I know! But I think she really does feel awful about what she did to you."

"Yeah, so awful that she still hasn't said a word to me since she screwed me and disappeared! Not a phone call, not a letter, not even a note the morning when she ditched me in her own bed!"

"It was unforgiveable, I know that, but you don't know my sister. Not really."

"Obviously!"

"Billy, she isn't a very strong person, and despite her independent, self-reliant, rebellious streak, her self-confidence is paper thin. I think she's too ashamed to apologize to you, but not because she doesn't care about you, because she cares too much! She knows she hurt you, Billy, and because she knows she hurt you, she can't face you. That's why she sent me to do her dirty work for her."

So it was out! Jane had sent her. "I don't want you to do her dirty work for her! It's only 'dirty' because of her. Why should you have to clean up after her?"

"I've been cleaning up after her my whole life, Billy!" Then, she paused. "Let me tell you a story about when we were kids." She pulled her legs back up on the bed, propped a couple pillows against the wall, and leaned back. Then, she took another big sip of wine. I could tell this was going to be a good one.

"One time when I was twelve and Jane was thirteen, she got her hands on the galley proof of one of my father's books. The publisher had sent it to him for corrections, and he had spent at least a week working on the changes. He had about a million little post-it notes stuck all over the pages and filled with corrections, and he had it sitting on his desk waiting to mail it back to the publisher."

"Anyway, Jane started looking at it and reading a little bit of it, and it must have been interesting to her because then she decided to take it outside with her so she could read it while she lay in the sun. It was springtime, and nice and warm outside. So anyway, she gets a lawn chair and parks herself right next to the corral where we kept our horses, and she starts reading."

"And pretty soon, she gets thirsty laying in the sun and all, so she sets the galley down on the lawn chair and goes inside to get some lemonade. And it's really windy outside - it's springtime and all - but she's like completely oblivious to the wind. So, she goes in the house, and when she comes back outside, the entire manuscript has blown off the lawn chair and the pages are lying in the horse shit in the corral and blowing halfway across the valley, and... it was a fucking mess!"

"Half of the pages are completely gone, and the ones she could find are stained with dirt or shit, or god knows what! So, of course, she comes to find me, and I try to help her find the pages, but it's a lost cause, and she knew our father will be really upset with her. So, you know what she did?"

"What?"

"She asked me to take the blame, to say that I'd done it! She told me that our dad liked me better than he liked her, and that he wouldn't get as mad if I was the one that took the blame! And you know what? I did it! I did it, because I kind of knew that she was right - that he wouldn't get as mad at me as he would have gotten at her. And you know why? 'Cause I never got in trouble! She always got in trouble, and I never did! At least not until I really got in trouble! But you know all about that! " I did know about 'that,' but now it struck me that this story wasn't just about Jane; it was just as much about Dill!

She took a drink and continued. "So, that night I told him that I took the galley. Now, mind you, we were expressly forbidden to touch our father's written work. We weren't even allowed to read anything that he had written until we actually received copies of the books. So, I should have been really punished for what I admitted doing - it was going to take him days or even weeks to redo his work, and he was going to have to call the publisher for another galley, and on and on. But, you know what? I wasn't punished! Not at all! And for the next five or six years, I couldn't figure out why!"

"And then the night that I sat my parents down to tell them that I had gotten pregnant? After the yelling and the screaming and the gashing of teeth, my dad told me why he didn't punish me for ruining his book all those years ago. And do you know why he didn't punish me?"

"Yeah, because he knew all along that it was Jane who had ruined the book, not you!" I said. I understood right where she was headed with her story.

"Exactly! He didn't punish me because either he had to accept the story he didn't believe, or he had to admit that his oldest daughter was a lily-livered liar, and so he chose the former. And I got to skate because he wasn't going to punish me for something he knew I didn't do."

"And do you know that Jane never let me forget that I didn't get punished. She claimed it was proof positive that our father loved me more than he loved her."

"And it drove me nuts that I had to sit and listen to her complain, when I had taken the blame for what she was too weak to admit she'd done! And the truth of the matter was that if my father did love me more than he loved her, it was because he knew that I was stronger than she was. And for that, I had his respect! That's another thing about Jane - you can add jealousy to her long list of tragic flaws."

"I'm cleaning up for Jane again, Billy, because it's what I do. She makes messes, and I fix her messes, and I'm trying my damnedest to fix this with you!"

I didn't say anything for a long time, and neither did Dill. When I finally spoke, I was coming from so far out in left field that I wasn't sure Dill would follow at all, but she did. It took her a while, but she did. "Did you ever read To Kill a Mockingbird?" I asked.

"The Harper Lee book? Sure, I did! Didn't everybody? Oohh Billy," she said, perceptively, "now I know where you're going with this!"

"Of course you do! A million people must have reminded you that you have the same name as the character in that book!"

"Well, not a million, but, yeah, a few people have mentioned it; that's true. But my real name is Dillon, not Dill, and if I recall correctly, the real name of the boy in the book was Charles Baker Harris, and 'Dill' was his nickname. So it's not really the same." Then, she got this confused look on her face because she realized it wasn't her name that I was thinking about. "Billy? Why did you bring that up?"

"Well, I don't know if you know anything about the real Harper Lee, but when she was growing up in this little town in Alabama in the 30s, she really did have a friend that came to visit every summer, and that friend - that boy - was the inspiration for the character of Dill Harris in To Kill a Mockingbird. But here's the interesting part. Do you know who that boy really was? In real life, I mean?"

"No, I don't. Who was it?"

"It was the writer Truman Capote. I found that kind of incredible - two really good writers in the same tiny, little town. Two writers working from the same material - the same resources, growing up together and having the same experiences. And the two stayed really good friends throughout their lives. It's kind of interesting."

"You're right. That is pretty interesting." Still, she knew that wasn't what I was thinking about either. "But if I can ask, why did you think of that now, Billy? What's really on your mind?"

"I don't know," I said sheepishly. "I guess because you were talking about your father's book. But I think more because I was thinking that the plot of your story and the plot of Harper Lee's story have something in common."

"What's that?"

"Well, the black man in the novel - Tom Robinson? He took the blame for what someone else did, and for it, he paid the ultimate price. And you, you took the blame for what someone else did, and you paid a pretty high price yourself."

"But, Billy, I told you my father didn't punish me for ruining his book! I don't understand the comparison."

"No, but you got punished just the same, got punished for your sister's wildness, her rebelliousness, her independent spirit, and when you got punished, they were brutal, Dill. Really brutal, and it was every bit as tragic as To Kill a Mockingbird. It wasn't the same, but it was just as awful. The only difference is that Dill Kaminski is a lot stronger than the character in the book! Dill Kaminski's a survivor!" I smiled at her. I had always wanted to compliment her.

She looked at me, and she tried to smile back, but the tears started welling up in her eyes, and she couldn't say anything for the longest time. Finally, though she barely got the words out of her mouth, she looked at me and said, "Come here, Billy."

So I finished the rest of my wine, got up and set the glass down on her desk, and then I sat down next to her on the edge of her bed. When I did, she leaned forward and kissed me really passionately.

And I kissed her back. I really liked her a lot. She was kind of an amazing person. Just really good, really kind, and totally unassuming, even though she was a way better person than most everyone I knew. But I knew she wanted something from me that it would have been wrong to give her, and I knew she was even more vulnerable at that moment than I was. So, I stopped her.

"Dill, I am really, really attracted to you right now, but I think I better leave, before I do something that's probably not going to be good for either one of us at this moment. And I'm really hoping that you're not going to be mad at me for doing that. Do you understand?"

She looked at me and smiled really warmly, sincerely. "I do understand, Billy! And thank you. You're right; now is not the time. But, Billy Maxwell, some day it will be!" And then she hugged me really tightly for at least five minutes, before she finally let me go. I stood up and without saying anything left her room.

That little talk that Dill and I had that night in her dorm room? It went a long way toward healing my fragile psyche. A lot of people had been hurt far worse than I had, and Dill was one of them. It kind of put my problems in perspective. A few weeks later, I ran into Jane at a party, and though I won't say I enjoyed that awkward reunion, it went far better than I expected. She apologized to me, though she never exactly explained what she was apologizing for, but I guess we both knew.

Pretty soon, I started running into Jane all the time - always with Chip - and I got to know him as well, and what everybody said about him was right - he was a good guy. And so after a few months, I began to accept what had happened. Not that I wasn't still half in love with her, but at least now, it wasn't so painful to think about her or, worse yet, see her.

Jane was Chip's girlfriend now, not mine, and I came to understand that he was more deserving of her than I was. He had been in love with her first, staked his claim, so to speak. And, of course, now I understood that along with everything that was great about Jane, Chip had also gotten all of her baggage - her idiosyncrasies, her insecurities, her foibles.

Besides, I decided that I was better off with Dill. That semester we became really close, not as lovers, but as friends. We did everything together, or at least everything that didn't interfere with Dill's studies. I think she was the most responsible and conscientious student at the whole university, certainly much more serious than either Jane or I were.

But despite spending a lot of time together, for the entire fall semester we were never intimate. Over the holidays, we both went home to spend Christmas with our families, but a couple days before New Year's, we both came back to school. New Year's Eve would be more fun there anyway - that is, until I found out about the party.

Since the dorms hadn't re-opened - considering that the spring semester didn't start again until the middle of January, Dill was staying with Jane at the house she was now sharing with Chip, and unbeknownst to me, they had decided to host a big, New Year's Eve bash. I didn't want to, but I kind of had to go. Besides, Dill and most of my other friends would be there, and at least I knew they'd be playing cool music.

So about 10:00 p.m., Pete, Tom and I walked over to Jane and Chip's. Their house was only about a half a mile from ours, and we figured we would be getting drunk, so we were better off walking than trying to drive on a night when the cops would be out in full force.

When we arrived at the party, it was in full swing. Jane was in an overly festive mood, and probably half drunk by the time we arrived. I sensed that Chip was trying to keep her away from several bottles of tequila that were making their way around the house, but it was obvious that would ultimately prove futile.

I moved to the kitchen where I found Dill seated at the table, though I almost didn't recognize her. She was so beautiful it took my breath away. Gone were her glasses, and instead of her usual jeans and t-shirt, she was wearing a black, strapless, curve-clinging top and a flowered, double-skirt that barely covered her thighs. On her feet, she wore a pair of simple black heels over black, ankle stockings. It was an outfit befitting her sister.

I almost asked what had become of her glasses, but I thought that might make her feel self-conscious so I decided not to ask her about them. I found out later that she really only needed them for reading - that she was farsighted. Then it struck me that she must have worn her glasses all the time for a different reason.

And then I understood something that had eluded me previously. Dill was every bit as pretty and desirable as her sister, but she hid it, probably because she didn't want to dim Jane's light. It was a little like taking the blame for ruining her father's manuscript - Jane retained the glory, and Dill suffered for it. But I sensed that wasn't the whole story.

Then, something else also occurred to me - everyone who knew Dill, really knew her, could see past the studious look, the jeans and t-shirts, the aversion to style. They knew she was beautiful, just like her father knew she didn't ruin his book. To those who really loved her, it didn't matter if Dill hid her light under a bushel. But tonight for some reason, she sure as hell wasn't hiding anything!

There was an empty chair on her left at the table, and Dill flashed me a look of desperation infused with a promise of eternal gratitude when I approached to sit down in it. The dim-witted guy on her right was regaling her with some tale of personal grandeur that was contrived to earn his way into her good graces and no doubt her panties as well!

I understood clearly that she wished to send him packing posthaste, but I was still surprised when immediately after I sat down, she turned away from him and leaned her chest into mine to kiss me, running her dancing tongue deep into my mouth as she did.

"Hi, honey! I've been waiting for you!" she said with a knowing smile, as soon as she withdrew her wet lips from mine. The cretin stopped in mid-sentence, hoisted by his own retard, though he was at least intelligent enough to know when he'd lost the battle, if not the war. He stood up immediately and left the room.

"Nice to see you too, Dill!" I chuckled. "Can I have my tonsils back if you haven't swallowed them already?"

"I'm sorry," she laughed, "but desperate times call for desperate measures!"

"Oh, now kissing me is a desperate measure! You really know how to charm a guy!"

"Doesn't mean I didn't like it! In fact, I liked it so much, I going back for seconds!" And again, she leaned in, grinding her bosom into me and wrapping her arms around me as she kissed me passionately for a good 30 seconds. I figured she'd already been drinking more than usual.

"Whoa, girl! Midnight's still an hour or two off! Don't get me wrong, I like it, more than you know, but, Dill, I thought we were just friends!"

"I'm tired of waiting, Billy!" she complained. "Besides, I told you that some day the time would be right. Now's that time!" I looked at her, her face painted with expectation. I didn't disagree. The more time I spent with Dill, the more I was attracted to her, and the way she looked tonight, how could I possibly say no? But this party was already awkward enough, and I didn't want to make it worse by attracting attention.

"Okay, okay, Dill, but can we just make it to midnight? After we blow some fucking noisemakers for five minutes, we can go back to my house, okay? Besides, this is your sister's place." But as I stared into Dill's stunning blue eyes, hoping she was agreeable to a temporary cooling off period, I spotted over her shoulder another set of eyes in the adjoining room that was trained on the two of us in haughty rivalry.

"Okay, Billy, but I'm horny, really horny, and I've waited a long time!" I knew I could keep Dill at bay for another hour or so, but now I had another issue to deal with. Dill hadn't seen Jane looking at us, but I knew that right now we had better be discreet. Besides, I had to take a piss. So I promised Dill that I would take care of her needs and then I asked her where the bathroom was. She directed me upstairs.

After I pissed, I washed and dried my hands and was opening the door to leave the john, when I nearly ran headlong into Jane! She had been waiting outside the locked door, and now she pushed her way into the room, locking the door again behind her.

Then, she grabbed me, and started kissing me so ardently that her tongue reached depths even more extreme than her sister's had not five minutes before. Soon, she reached for my crotch and began rubbing my cock through my jeans!

"Jane, stop! What are you doing?" I was mad. Maybe I was being selfish, but it had taken me six months to get to the point where I wasn't sad and depressed any more, sad and depressed because Jane had left me high and dry without so much as an explanation. And now this?

"Come on, Billy! You know you've missed it as much as I have!" She kept trying to kiss me, pushing her tits into me, and grabbing my ass, pulling my crotch up against hers.

"Jesus, Jane! What about Chip? What about Dill?"

"I saw you first, Billy!"

"Look, we can't do this; we can't do this to either of them. Neither one of them deserves to be treated this way. Christ, Jane! What the fuck is this?" She stopped, let go of me, and took a step back.