The Good Child

Sierra had only ever seen her cousin Jonah at the big family dinners two days a year, Easter and Christmas, sitting with his out-of-the-ordinary gel-tamed hair and crisp button-up shirts, all freshly suited for the photos. Everyone else in the extended family was either a wine-sipping grown-up or a wailing little kid, so it seemed appropriate to seat the two together. It sure wasn't their choice.

"Sierra's taking high school math as an eighth grader," her mother would tell the table. "Her robotics team took second place in the state competition last week." "She made the honor roll again!" There was always something new to make Sierra blush and mumble "thank you" to the praise.

What could Aunt Melissa say about her own son? "Jonah's last report card didn't have an A in anything but gym class!", or "Jonah got suspended again! You wouldn't believe what he did this time"?

Jonah hated sitting there just to hear them gush about the "good child" of the family. "You think you're so special," he murmured once. "Do you even have any friends?"

"Mm-hmm." She wished she could ignore him. She just couldn't bear to be rude.

"I bet they're weird. They probably have hairy legs like you."

Sierra didn't know how to respond to that. She just crossed her apparently stubbly legs, pulled her skirt over her knees, and scooted in further to the table. "Okay."

"That's why you don't have a boyfriend. Right? Do you?"

Her face crumpled. Every year, Easter and Christmas had to be like this, soiled with his teasing. From what she showed up wearing ("That's a little tight. Are you trying to make your boobs pop out?"), to what she was eating ("You don't want any bread rolls with that salad? Is it 'cause you're on a diet? To keep your legs from getting even fatter?"), to what her mom was bragging about that evening (upon hearing the robotics news, he kept turning to her to say, "Beep boop!"), it was as if he knew what to say to make her wish she never came.

After Sierra and Jonah's shared high school graduation party - with the family celebrating Sierra for finishing with all those medals around her neck, a stellar GPA, and a spot at a great university, and celebrating Jonah for somehow managing to graduate - they were never together at family gatherings again. Sierra studied neurobiology on the other side of the country, far enough that it was cheaper to keep her there than fly her home over breaks. Jonah kept his childhood bedroom and got a job at 7-Eleven. They just went down the paths that anyone could've expected of them.

Nobody could've expected how they'd meet again.

~~~

On this snowy November morning, Sierra should've been staying in her singlet student apartment. She had video lectures to attend, homework assignments to turn in, tests to study for. Instead, she was stuck in Highland Hills Behavioral Health, whatever 2020's current polite term was for a "mental institution." Crying to her professor that she wanted to kill herself now seemed like a terrible mistake.

She had to admit, though, it sure felt nicer to be here, where she was playing table games and coloring pictures, having more interaction with peers than she'd had all semester, than to be a student cooped up alone. She dreaded the date she'd have to leave. Where would she even go - back to the place where she would've killed herself? Twelve days was too short to make her want to live; she couldn't trust herself not to do something stupid before finals week and end up back in a hospital bed.

A staff member shouted to the coloring table, waving the unit's Stone Age cordless telephone, "Who wants to make a call?"

"May I?" Sierra glanced up from the purple flower she was shading. Lately, she'd been too nice letting others hog the phone, but now she needed to ask her mother about the plan.

Thankfully, her mother picked up immediately. "Sierra! How's it going over there?"

Sierra slumped on the couch and sighed. "Going great. Were you told I'm getting out on Thursday?"

"Yes! You have no idea how happy I am for you, honey. So, do you know how to get to the airport from there?"

"Why?"

"We got you a flight back to San Diego."

This couldn't be right. As far as Sierra remembered, her mother lost her job and got evicted months ago, and she still couldn't find a place to stay but with her sister Melissa. "Wait. Who am I going to stay with?"

"Aunt Melissa. You know, the guest room's going to be open again, now that I've been moving into a new sublet."

Nobody had told Sierra. "And Jonah?"

"Yep, he's there too! It's been a long time since you've seen them, not since 2018, yeah? We're sorry to catch you off guard like this, but I still don't believe you're ready to be alone again. You need to be living with a good support system."

Sierra was good at pretending to be grateful, but the sour feeling lingered in her stomach for the rest of their chit-chat. Jonah never gave her a word of "support." Surely he got that familiar twisted thrill finding out she was coming, just like he felt before those old family gatherings, ready to make it hell for her.

But the previous night, when Jonah was told the news, he felt sour in the stomach as well. Jonah wasn't prepared to have such a pretty girl in his house.

~~~

Sierra didn't have much baggage to carry. Her mother said that in a matter of weeks, everything from the little apartment would be shipped to Aunt Melissa's. So once the plane landed, Sierra just slung on her backpack, stuffed with outfits and books, and headed to the spot where she was told they were waiting.

"Hi, honey! Oh, I'm so happy to see you!" Aunt Melissa had the same looks, same voice, but for the first time, her "happy to see you" to Sierra was actually sincere.

The car's trunk popped open, and a young man in a 7-Eleven uniform waved. He had dark chestnut hair in thick waves, shining stud earrings, bulked-up arms scattered with tattoos of snakes and swords and flames-it took Sierra a moment to see that it was Jonah.

"Hey, Sierra, I made this for you." He gave her a handshake and handed it over.

"Wow. Thank you!" A card? The front had an original pencil drawing, a family of rabbits surrounded by floating hearts. The inside simply said, "Hi Sierra, welcome back. I hope you like it here and feel better soon. Love, Jonah." Ha, his mom probably told him to do this, she thought. She set her big backpack in the trunk and stretched in the backseat. What a relief to be able to ride with the windows down, no snow here, just a cool evening breeze.

They took the familiar freeway between shrub-covered mountains, away from the sun setting over the ocean. Sierra remembered the house from years ago, back when the rich uncle was still in the picture. It had been paid off by the time they got divorced, so Aunt Melissa got to graduate from a housewife to a working woman with a bigger house than she knew what to do with.

Sierra wanted to see the pool, the big backyard, the gleaming white kitchen with nut bowls and ice cold drinks. But the first thing they did when they got home was a tour of the guest room. She sure felt lucky not to be back in her cramped apartment. The bed was big enough for two, maybe three; Sierra stroked the jewel-green blanket, silky smooth.

Aunt Melissa slid open the wall-mirror closet, lined with old pre-baby clothes from when she was several sizes smaller. "Feel free to try any of these on."

"Sweet, thanks."

"How are you doing? Are you hungry?"

Sierra smiled. "Ah, I think I just want to go to sleep."

"You should definitely get some rest. You remember where the guest bathroom is, right? Let me know if you need anything." Aunt Melissa inched the door nearly shut and stepped out.

Sierra climbed under the heavy blanket, sunk into the lush pillows. She'd had a long day. Before she could get changed and brush her teeth, what she really needed was some time to relax.

She slipped her fingers in her mouth. Her wet fingers dipped beneath the thin stretchy cotton of her psych ward undergarment. She wasn't quite ready there yet, but some tender back-and-forth was enough to get her sensitive parts pulsating.

For years, she couldn't help but indulge in this, and lately, the urges had only gotten worse. She just craved the relief. Whenever she had her fingers between her legs, it didn't matter that she had looming deadlines in every class. It didn't even matter that she was in an emergency room bed, with nurses popping in and out, lying in a mask and hospital gown waiting for the news on what they'd do with her next. When she did this, she'd lose track of time. All that mattered was how good it felt.

She jiggled her slick, throbbing clitoris, the way she knew best. Her mind was already swollen with vivid visions-the bodies of all the lovely guys and girls she'd seen, the way it would feel to have their hands and tongues all over her, all the raw and filthy things she could only imagine she'd enjoy someday.

She kept going, rubbing, rubbing, until the moment came. Her clitoris pounded. Her walls contracted. She finished the deed in silence. All she could do now was stare at the ceiling and hear what she heard in her head every time: Dirty. Filthy. Nasty. Pervert. Loser. Whore.

~~~

Sierra woke up in her wool sweater and jeans, not the greatest sleeping materials. And it was well past 10 a.m.-jet lag had clearly gotten to her.

She grabbed her phone and thumbed through her professors' emails that she didn't get the chance to read until now. Wishing you the best, they all said. Please don't worry about makeup work.

"Good morning, love," said Aunt Melissa from the kitchen table, as Sierra tiptoed in. She lowered her "remote work" laptop screen. "I'll make you some breakfast, okay?"

Sierra gasped. How kind. "I mean, thank you, but it's pretty late. I feel like I can just wait 'til lunchtime."

"What would you like to drink, then? Sparkling water?" Aunt Melissa got up to the sleek silver smart refrigerator. "Cherry lime or blueberry pomegranate?"

"Ooh...cherry lime, please?"

Aunt Melissa cracked open a can. "Here you go. Enjoy."

"Thank you!" Sierra carried it to her room.

It had been a long time since Sierra felt so loved, like she didn't exist just to go from deadline to deadline. Like she could just lie back and feel cared for.

Meanwhile, as Jonah stocked the shipment of Red-Bulls, he checked the clock. Still hours left, he saw, until he'd have to come home to his cousin. His strong hands got hot and trembly at the thought. Things were going to get awkward soon.

It wasn't that he was desperate for a woman. He'd had nights of fun with many, and if he really wanted, he knew he could land another tonight. But with all those girls of different sizes and shapes, styles and shades, none of them gave him that special feeling he got with his cousin Sierra.

Even the brief sight of Sierra last night got his hormones surging. What a small young lady, almost as petite as in her young teenage days, now carrying some delicious extra pounds in her legs, with long reddish hair curving over her chest that looked so smooth to touch.

He wondered how her touch would feel, too. The whole time he'd known her, she was unlike other girls these days: nothing but sweet and pure. And awfully shy.

~~~

Indeed, that's how she greeted him that afternoon when he got home. From the couch, she just gave a quick dimpled smile and a light little wave.

"Hi, Sierra. What have you been up to today?"

"Hi! I've just been trying to do schoolwork." She held up her smartphone. "It's all online now, and my laptop isn't going to arrive for a while."

"Aw. I could've let you use mine while I was gone." He noticed his voice got soft with her, like he was speaking to a delicate thing that could break with his words.

"Really? That would be nice."

"No biggie at all; it's what you gotta do." Things didn't feel awkward anymore, now that he knew he could talk to her. "Can I come sit?"

Sierra nodded. "Sure, if you'd like."

He settled to her side, resting his arm on the cushion behind them. "How are you feeling now? I heard you were, you know, having issues." She had no idea how badly he wanted to lean over and give her the hug she needed.

Sierra's gaze turned to the distance. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you wanted to kill yourself."

She paused. "Mm-hmm."

"I don't get it."

"It's hard to explain, but like...I saw what this world had become. All the loneliness, all the things we couldn't do like normal anymore. And I couldn't stand it. I had nothing in my life but just doing schoolwork every day, so I could try to find a job to make a living someday, but it didn't feel like anything was paying off. I couldn't see things getting better anytime soon." Sigh. "I didn't see the point of trying anymore."

It still didn't make sense. For years, Jonah was content to be "the 7-Eleven guy." He didn't have much going for him, and they all knew it. This was simply how life was, he figured. Yet here was the shining star child of the family, the precious perfect angel, talking like her existence was worth nothing. "Well, I'm glad you're trying anyway. We need you."

"Wow." Sierra smiled. Thank goodness this wasn't going to be another argument to talk her out of it. She'd had too many of those in treatment. What she needed was an actual change. "I'm glad you're here. You're so nice now."

"Yeah, I know I was a dick back then." (Immediately, Jonah regretted the word. He sensed she wasn't the kind of girl to swear in front of.)

She squeezed his hand. "It's okay."

"Thanks." Jonah spent a moment soaking up the warmth. It's okay. "So, what do you want to do now? Get back to school?"

"I'm still kind of tired. Maybe I should get back to bed for a while, just take a nap."

"Then let's get you back to bed. Here, you don't even have to get up." He slid one arm around her back, one arm under her knees, and hauled her off the couch.

"Whoa! You're strong."

He moved to the guest bedroom as if he were holding a fragile crystal vase. "You like being carried like this?"

"Yes, yes," she cooed as she was placed on the mattress.

Can I please join you under the covers? Jonah begged inside. Can I please keep holding you? "Have a nice nap. See you at dinnertime."

With such a big strong man treating her so tenderly, Sierra was getting a funny tingle down below. She liked feeling little in his arms, like he was there to protect her. Her mind was ready to drift. She slipped her fingers between her legs and took care of the urge. Oh, Jonah. I wish you were here.

~~~

Saturday morning, Sierra changed her outfit, something she hadn't bothered to do since she arrived.

"You look pretty today," she heard, as she browsed through the kitchen. There stood Jonah in pajama pants, brewing his cup of tea. Turns out, he had even more tats down the side of his toned belly. Sierra caught herself before she could spend too long glancing lower.

"Thanks?" Sierra always thought the dress made her look like a Christmas tree. It was a loose hand-me-down from their grandmother, just a thing to wear that was comfortable and quick to throw on. "Don't you have work soon?"

"I'm working the night shift, so I'm going to be sleeping a lot today." Their conversation ended too soon yesterday. He knew she needed another good check-up. "You going to come sit with me again, Miss Pretty?"

Sierra opened the fridge and grabbed a sparkling water can. At this point, she felt welcomed enough that she could take things from the fridge without asking. "Okay."

He reclined on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. "How's this online school thing going? Must be hard being so far from your friends now, huh?"

She shrugged. "Nah. I feel like it's the same. I didn't really talk to people back there."

"You miss your boyfriend?"

"Don't have one."

"Not since high school?"

"I never had one in high school!" Her glum face turned to a grin. "Remember? You always asked, and I told you."

"That's right. But have you been out here kissing boys? I don't recall asking you that."

"Not at all."

So she surely never did the deeds past kissing. That's what he was itching to know. "Jeez! Aren't you 20 now?"

"Hey, I thought that was normal. What about you?"

"Hmm. I've been with at least 15 girls. No, 16. Probably not more than 20. I don't know; I lost count."

"What?!"

"More normal than being 20 with no experience yet."

"So you're calling me weird?" Sierra wasn't actually offended. She just laughed inside.

"Oh, no, I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Not a lot of good girls like you these days. Man, whoever you end up with is going to feel really special."

"But I'm not a 'good girl.' You don't know."

"Sure you are. Tell me what you mean by that."

She took a deep breath, leaned in, and whispered it: "I touch myself a lot. Like, I can't stop."

Jonah needed a moment. He sipped his tea, now barely warm. How could he even respond to that? "Well, then. What do you touch yourself to?"

"Imagining people's bodies. Imagining them doing stuff to me."

This only raised more questions, but Jonah knew he had to restrain himself. "And how often do you do this?"

"Every day. It's like I can't go one day without it."

"It stopped when you had to stay at Highland Hills, though, right?"

She shook her head, chuckling. "Uh, definitely not."

"So, were you doing it here too?"

"I'm sorry! Should I not be doing it in your house?"

Telling people they can't enjoy their own bodies in private? Back when his dad would barge into his room and scold the young boy for being so sinful, Jonah thought that seemed sick. His mom's policy: as long as hands and sheets get washed, it's nobody's business. "No, feel free."

"Whew."

"If my dad were still here, that would be a different story. I know the struggle."

"He did sound strict. I remember that one time the little cousins were playing outside, and he told us to go fetch the 'spheres' that fell in the pool. Apparently, we weren't allowed to call them 'balls'?"

Jonah burst into hooting laughter. "Right! Damn, I almost forgot about that." Not "dang." Maybe it was time for her to handle grown-up words.

"And you weren't allowed to watch SpongeBob?" (The adults often let the little ones watch TV during the long boozy card games. Whenever Jonah's father caught the sponge on the screen, he grabbed the remote, saying, "We don't watch this.")

"I was the only kid I knew who couldn't." Jonah found the change of subject quite a relief. He knew he would've taken it too far. "It seemed like your mom let you do anything. Funny how I ended up the bad kid."

The conversation went on, exchanging memories of youth, with Jonah asking, "You were allowed to do that?" and Sierra asking, "You weren't allowed to do that?"

A whole hour had passed by the time Aunt Melissa returned from her Saturday jog. How precious, she thought, finding the two chattering and laughing together like she'd never heard before. "Jonah, when are you going to bed?"

"Later."

"That's what you say every week, and you never end up getting enough sleep before I have to go wake your ass up. Let's get this out of the way."

"This early? I was just having a good time talking to Sierra over here."

"You need your rest. Sierra's not going anywhere."

"Fine, then." He turned to Sierra. "Talk to you later." Jonah washed his tea mug, tossed Sierra's empty can, and waited until Aunt Melissa stepped out. "Want me to carry you to your room?"

"Ooh! Yay!" Sierra was a giggling mess when she was hoisted up. This time it felt more weirdly intimate, with the fabric of her dress pressed right against his hot bare chest. Was this allowed?