Unintended Consequences Ch. 03

Notes [Last revised December 23, 2021]:

• ○ We apologize for our long hiatus on this story line.
• ○ We suggest reading the previous chapters of this series, which may have been tweaked.
• ○ All characters are the product of the authors' imaginations, and are eighteen years of age or older.
• ○ The narrators change periodically throughout this chapter.
• ○ Although this is a standalone series, there are tie-ins to our other stories. We don't think there is a particular order to read these since the reveals make it more interesting in the order published. However, chronological order is mostly Love Interrupted, Unintended Consequences, Empty Nesters and then An Unwitting Discovery.
• © Copyright 2021 by MindsMirror. All rights reserved.

Monday, Monday; can't trust that day..., the lyrics kept repeating in my mind as I washed myself that morning. Oldies weren't on any of my play lists, but I must have heard Mom listen to her Best of The Mamas and The Papas, album at least a thousand times, in my childhood and, for some reason those words spoke to all of my mixed feelings. Mondays had never been great for me, but that particular Monday was starting out worse than most.

As I stepped from the shower, the sadness over Adam's departure began settling in upon me. When I reached for my towel, his was hung neatly next to mine and a twinge of loss washed over me as I observed the care he'd taken. It wasn't simply thrown over the towel bar; the folds were very even and the corners at the bottom were aligned. This wasn't the first time I'd noticed his attention to detail, but it registered in a visceral fashion.

Somehow, during my undergraduate absence, he'd changed. This small thing was simply one example of that transformation. He wasn't the same person who'd simply thrown his towel on the counter or floor, for someone else to deal with. How and when had he become this caring young man? It was like he'd been working on correcting many of the self sabotaging behaviors he'd picked up during high school. In many ways, he'd matured, even while reclaiming most of the positive traits of the kid brother I remembered.

The soft terrycloth felt soothing to my skin as I dried myself and contemplated Adam's departure. He really couldn't avoid returning home. He'd come up early, for his tour of the UVA graduate school and campus, when I'd asked him to help me move into this half of the duplex. Now, he wanted and needed to finish helping Mom with the sale of the household items and furnishings. It felt like I should have gone with him, but I had appointments, that day, with potential advisors.

Our parent's divorce was taking a toll on all of us, but it was proving to be harder on Adam and Mom, since they were tasked with everything that moving from the long-time family home in Richmond entailed. I'd been out on my own for several years, by that point in time, but I still felt some strangeness at the thought that I would no longer be able to drive 'home' and visit. For them, there would probably be even more trauma connected to the sale of the house and the majority of the household items.

I hung my towel and wondered if it was having any effect on Dad at all. I hadn't spoken to, or even really thought about him, since Mom first broke the news to me. Maybe he'd been planning it for a long time, since he'd been cheating on her and had finally decided to move in with that slut. The surprising bit was that he hadn't tried to communicate with me; it felt irresponsible and uncaring. All appearances were that he'd been living a double life for a while -- although, in retrospect, he had never been that close with Adam or me. His focus had always been work and related activities. Business trips had taken him away, frequently, leaving Mom to be the sole caregiver.

Warm air from the hair drier blew my straw-blonde hair while I ran my fingers through it and regarded myself in the mirror. My body hadn't changed much since I was a junior in high school. At twenty-five, I was still lithe with a long waist, lengthy muscular legs and a slight bubble butt. My barely B breasts were smallish but pert and my nipples were excited as I redirected the air to my lightly haired pubic area. I'd tried trimming, shaving and waxing, but currently I'd let it grow out a bit and Adam hadn't said anything about it when he'd eaten me so excellently. My fingers feathered through the thin straw colored curls briefly as I quickly dried.

On that lonesome morning, I inevitably found myself reexamining the teenage period of my life. As I did so, a profound realization sank in on me; Dad's inattention had become even more lopsided as Adam and I had grown older. While he'd been there for many of our middle school functions, he hadn't turned out for our high school activities, and barely interacted with us as we began college. I tried to remember when I'd even spoken with him last, and could only come up with winter break the prior year. Those interactions had been very perfunctory, just exchanging greetings and pleasantries. The passage of those five months felt like a different era.

A few days earlier, when I'd gone to the house to pack the remaining items of mine that were there, it had been pretty obvious that Dad had cleared out his stuff. He'd moved out, and on, and that's when it first occurred to me that he would probably have little or no further contact with any of us. It wasn't something I knew right away, but my intuition was starting to kick in, a bit, now that I'd had my blinders removed. I still didn't get how two people could share as many years of life, together, as Mom and Dad had, only to have one decide to up and leave. My memory of winter break wasn't giving me any hints about the distance between Dad and Mom -- or between Dad and us, for that matter. But, now that the divorce was fully in motion, it seemed like only Mom would continue to be involved in our lives.

Mom had been relying on Adam heavily, since Dad's bombshell, and would definitely need his help -- physically and emotionally -- for completion of this task. I guess I was being a little selfish; I just hadn't wanted Adam to go. He'd headed out so early, that morning, that I had just gotten to give him a kiss at the door as he left. We'd only just begun this new phase in our relationship and, now, he wouldn't be back -- in my arms or in my bed -- until Friday. Suddenly, those five days seemed like an eternity to wait.

I began brushing my teeth and forced myself to think of the day's activities that lay ahead of me. All of the emotional upheaval was making it hard to focus. I needed to figure out what my research was going to be about, and with whom I would be working. Picking a graduate advisor is a pretty big deal since they have such a large impact on your life during your grad school career. There's also the fact that whatever research you publish will have their name listed as the principal author. Thus, you become associated with that individual for a long time, maybe even the rest of your research career. The self-imposed pressure, to get this right, was mounting inside my head.

Absently, I found myself in my new bedroom, dressing, and I tried to stay focused on the three appointments I'd made. These represented the culmination of years of unflinching concentration and were part of the plan I'd set in motion for myself. I couldn't let myself get sidetracked from my goals. Moving into a new and quieter apartment, and these interviews, signified my transition to becoming a researcher. They were the reasons I couldn't stay at Mom's, or go and spend the day helping Adam.

I probably could have rescheduled, but declaring my research advisor was supposed to happen within the next month and this was all about my future that I'd been planning for all these years. There was a nagging feeling that, somehow, the past weekend's events had changed -- or would change -- that future but, for the moment, I had to proceed with my plans. I knew I was being a little greedy and a lot selfish, but getting an advanced degree required me to block out such thoughts. Focus was key.

At the end of my spring semester, I had set up meetings with my three top choices for research advisor and, in just a few short hours, each one would be giving me a one-on-one tour of their labs. They would also give me an idea of what areas I might research, in their respective groups. Unlike Adam, I hadn't really keyed in on a single professor when choosing a graduate school. I'd picked the best school that had a program I found interesting. Honestly, I might have just stayed at VPI (aka Virginia Tech), because their program was a really good one -- maybe even better than the one at UVA. The thing was, I wanted to broaden my experience, and several of my professors had recommended going to a different school for graduate work.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I may have wanted to be closer to home and now that variable was dropping from the equation. It made me wonder if I had made the prudent choice. It was going to be hard enough to concentrate on my research, even if I did enjoy it. What if none of these three men could obtain funding for me, or sent me down the wrong path of investigation. Yes, they were all men; not a single female in my field of interest. It really bugged me, but that's a different topic.

On top of these concerns, I'd added or complicated everything by falling into a sexual and romantic relationship with Adam. In my mind, I had seduced him, although I didn't think I'd done so intentionally. He claimed he'd been chasing me for a while, but that felt... I don't know; his assertion seemed tenuous -- not that I thought he was lying to me -- but it occurred to me that it was a little more plausible that maybe he'd rationalized my advances with his fantasies. On the other hand, it was equally plausible that the desire to win my heart had changed the old 'party guy' into the caring young man who had chased me and then captured my heart and soul. In the final analysis, though, did it even matter? We were right... No; we were perfect... No; we were meant for one another. A wash of emotions ran through me as I realized I wasn't going to give him up for anyone or anything!

After leaving Zane's apartment in the duplex, the drive to Mom's was fairly lonely. It was about daybreak when I left, and I was driving into the sun, which bothered my tired eyes. Zane and I had stayed up past midnight, trying (I think) to squeeze in enough loving to last us for the days we'd be apart. There's a song I'd been hearing recently with a line that went, "I always knew it could be like this -we'd start the day with a coffee kiss..." by Shane Alexander. Although much gentler, the lyric reminded me of a similar line from a song by the The Monkees that Mom loved -- one that always had her turning the radio's volume up, whenever it played -- "We'll have time for coffee-flavored kisses..." Problem was, we hadn't even gotten coffee; I'd had to rush and only had enough time to give her a kiss in the doorway, as I was leaving. I hadn't wanted to leave Zane; it tore at me to do so, but I needed to be in Richmond for Mom. The divorce had really been doing a number on her, and she needed my shoulder to lean on. It was only right; after all, she'd always been there to support Zane and me. However, the thought of returning to the home I'd lived in for most of my life filled me with dread.

There were really two conflicting worries battling it out in my mind. First, I hadn't wanted to leave Zane. We'd just figured out we were in love with one another, and I was already going through separation anxiety. Second, I was going to have to face Mom. In her worry, Zane had told her about our relationship. I had really been considering doing the same; she'd simply beaten me to it, but she'd told Mom that it'd all been her doing. The truth of the matter was that I'd been sort of chasing Zane for years, without her being aware of it or perhaps even fully admitting it to myself. It was a fairly odd and inept chase but, somehow, I had caught her, and I wasn't about to let her go.

We'd been a lot closer when we were younger, but my last couple of years in high school had been the real divider. When she became a senior, we stopped interacting much. I don't think it was intentional; we were simply doing different things. She'd already begun developing her ability to focus her concentration, and getting into college had all of it. I was on the track team, and had gotten involved with drinking and smoking pot with some of my teammates. Zane didn't have much interest in social activities, and had walled herself off from that in order to prepare for further academics, her career and, beyond that, independence.

It was no surprise that Zane got accepted at an excellent college. When she left, we drifted further apart and, at the time, it felt like her abandonment of me was complete. Zane had a closer relationship with Mom, and she'd often worked as an intermediary for me to approach her. With her gone, my senior year seemed to go worse than my junior year, as I struggled with the increasing tension in the house and the pressure to get into college exacerbated my tendency towards escapism. In the end, I was able to attend the local college in Richmond, which helped my relationship with Mom. I didn't hang out with the same friends, but I was still making some of the same poor choices.

I'm certain that living at home was another part of our drift apart. Zane had the opportunity to grow even more independent, while she attended VPI in Blacksburg. I still had Mom and Dad to help with things. During her first year in college, we saw each other on holidays but upon each visit, she had become more distant.

The feeling that my sister and I were becoming strangers had been building for some time but I didn't really acknowledge it until Zane stayed in Blacksburg over winter break of my freshman year in college. During our simple Christmas Eve dinner, Mom was discussing her absence in terms of her plans to get into graduate school. I had a staggering realization that began crushing in on my psyche; she might move far away and I might not see her much ever again.

The thought continued to nag at me as we watched 'A Christmas Carol' that evening. Afterward, when it was over, I ducked out to 'visit' a friends house. Several bong hits later, I arrived back home in an unusually weird frame of mind. Missing Zane terribly, I crawled into her vacant bed to attempt slumber. As I tossed and turned, I worried about a future without her in my life.

Is this where my decisions have brought me? I kept asking as I drifted off.

In the morning, when I realized where I'd gone to sleep, I felt something akin to Scrooge's revelation and desperation spurred me into action to prevent the desolate future my life might be without her in it. Even as I thought back about the predicament, it was pretty difficult to come to terms with all that I'd done to increase my chances to be near her. During my sophomore year in college, I'd gotten into a good group of friends that studied, broke off with people that introduced any negative influence, and even broken up with my sometimes girlfriend over the summer break. Unfortunately, none of this could be witnessed since Zane still hadn't returned home.

Christmas break of her junior year, I was granted a fantastic two-week reprieve. When I saw her, she looked exhausted and said she needed a stress break from feverishly working on her undergraduate research. It was part of her strategy for getting accepted into a graduate school, but her efforts to publish had drained her. As she recovered some during the first few days of her visit, we must have talked more, then, than we had in the last four years. We stayed up late in one another's rooms conversing into the wee hours of the morning. It was like a reintroduction to one another, and acted as a kind of reset.

During the final days of her stay, there was an incident born of careless eagerness, nothing I intended. It felt like our days together were disappearing quickly and, in a rush to have another confab, I'd burst into her bedroom without knocking in the midst of her changing. She was fully undressed and, though I closed the door quickly as I apologized profusely, there was no way I could ever 'un-see' the sheer beauty of her perfect form. When she was finished, she simply invited me in and we carried on as if nothing had happened. Actually, I should say that SHE carried on as if nothing had happened. I had a real problem forcing that image of her utter loveliness to the back of my mind so that our chatter could go on.

Later that night, as I replayed the incident in my head, I'd tried to convince myself my five month celibacy hadn't been a trigger for what I was then feeling. I was fairly certain our recent closeness was working to bring back all my old feelings of love in a forceful rush. Accompanying them was something unexpected and unintended -- lust. I had attempted to push this thought away; it wasn't right, it wasn't what a brother should feel. Guilt plagued me when the idea wouldn't turn me loose. Entwined with my love for her, this new feeling of desire burned deep.

Untrusting of my feelings or my interpretation of them, I attempted to ignore my attraction to her, but those lingering questions found me capitalizing every moment we were together. I listened intently, in every conversation, for clues that gave me more insight into her. It seemed like we'd become closer in ways we hadn't been for quite some time. I realized, then, how much I had missed that closeness, and determined that it was truly what had been missing in my life.

Her commitment to what she was doing was inspiring. The way her mind worked excited me, mentally and emotionally, and that only compounded what I was starting to feel for her, physically. There were a number of small things she said or did that also encouraged me, broke through my defenses, and somehow awakened me to a new reality. I wanted to become more independent and experience the success she was having. When she told me how she was deflecting endeavors at relationships until after graduate school; that's when I decided to take a chance.

I guess there were other things that helped frame my newfound direction. There was already tension in the house; Dad and Mom weren't really getting along very well. I knew Zane hadn't really seen it, since they both covered it up whenever she was around, but the dishonesty in Dad's behavior had been pretty obvious, to me, for a long time.

Looking back, I regretted not having consulted Mom about my suspicions, although at the time, I thought she knew and simply didn't care. I think this stress may have been the main trigger that caused my feelings for Zane to resurface with such a vengeance. Everything had gone more smoothly when Zane was around and I longed for those better times of years gone by, when our closeness had been a buffer against the stormy seasons.

In my spring semester, I continued my self-improvements, and kept working at them. Zane's pursuit of education had spurred me, challenged me to do even better -- I wanted to show her I could do it, too. Then she'd see that I could be reliable for her and maybe that would keep her close. I knew it wasn't completely logical; I don't even know if I was doing all of this consciously. Somewhere down deep, it felt right, though. I really knuckled down, devoted myself to studying for my courses and worked for the grades.