Was that all?

"It's so good to see you," she said.

"You too Big Bro," I replied, using the nickname I'd given her when I was still a little kid.

Blake was four when she found out that she'd be getting a little brother and the news sent her over the moon. We were inseparable until she hit that difficult early teen phase. Every afternoon, we used to play soccer or French cricket in the garden. We were crazy and playful; always in the mood for a game or a bit of rough-housing. That faded like playfulness tends to: we get older and feel uncomfortable having fun. Sometimes, when boredom hit me, I'd philosophise about how sad it was that adults don't play games.

We walked to the car, making some small talk about what we've been up to and how it had been too long. Now, I knew Blake was killing it at life, but I had underestimated how well she was doing. We got to her car: a brand new Audi R8 convertible in a gorgeous metallic red. I went into a bit of a trance because she had to snap her fingers in my face to wake me.

Most of the drive home consisted of me asking questions about the car. She explained that she'd recently completed a big case and collected a hefty fee. Unlike my dad, who is a bit of a grifter, Blake was all about hard work. By my age, she graduated law school cum laude and at 25 she was a director at a medium-sized law firm.

The old family home was a Tuscan monstrosity that seemed too big, like a bad pimple. My sister explained that she could only drop me off, but that she'd be back once her meetings finished. Blake moved out when she graduated and lived in a stunning apartment downtown. As far as I know, it would be her and the rest of our household at the "party" that night.

With my little hold-all in hand, I knocked on the door. It seemed none of the family were home, but luckily a housekeeper was there to let me in.

I'd never met her before. She introduced herself as Belinda Borushko from Belarus. She seemed fun and friendly, and I could discern that it was my mom who hired her. Mom loved a sense of humour; it was an essential characteristic that she looked for in all the people around her.

Belinda was a tall woman of about 30 with curly dark blonde hair that came down to her shoulders. She had a real farm-girl vibe about her. Her full lips were painted a deep red and she had little freckles under her blue-grey eyes. My mom insisted that our housekeepers do not look like 'hotel staff', so she didn't wear any kind of uniform. Instead, she had on a dark-blue button-up shirt and a pair of dark trousers with black Mary Janes.

I was disappointed that my mother wasn't home to greet me. Dad, I didn't mind, he was always at work and when he was home we'd inevitably fight. But my mom had always been a calming figure in what was a chaotic house.

I went to my room to dump my bag. It looked the same as it always has: too brown and far too cramped. Having lived on my own for a few years now, I imagined that I'd paint the room a lighter shade if I were still living there. I would also have changed the sheets to plain-white and thrown out the beanbag. I'd like to think my taste has improved over the years, but ah, to have once been so young and kitsch...

Laying on my bed was the laptop I left in Emily's room all those months ago. I told myself I forgot, but I was actually too afraid to retrieve it. It was sweet of her to make sure I got it back as soon as I arrived.

That's when I heard the sound of giggling and whispers from across the hall. I walked up to Emily's room and knocked twice, pushing the door open before I got a reply. She was upright in bed facing away from the door, stradling someone beneath her. "Hey, Sis..." I muttered, feeling jealousy and embarrassment at the same time.

She got to her feet, standing on the bed and then leaping onto me. With an excited shriek, she embraced me and looking over her shoulder I could see the other person in the bed.

It was a girl, about my sister's age. She was blonde and wearing a pair of white socks, striped athletic shorts, and a grey vest that showed off her strong arms. She saw me glaring at her and responded with a muted smile.

Emily realised that she hadn't introduced her friend, "This is Riley. Josh meet Riley, and Riley meet Josh!"

The blonde got to her feet and I got a look at her toned body. Her face had a heart-shape with puffy cheeks and big eyes. She was a bit shorter than me and my sister, which meant she was of average height. Her thighs were strong and her shoulders straight. This girl must live in the gym. She didn't have that bodybuilder look though, and while she was strong, she didn't overdo it.

"Hi Riley, it's nice meeting you," I stretched out my hand and we politely shook. She replied with a soft 'likewise' and we both turned to Emily, expecting her to take charge.

My little sister looked great. She was wearing black shorts that showed off her long legs and an olive tank-top. It actually looked like they were both in sleepwear, so I assumed that Riley spent the night.

Emily didn't seem keen to catch-up. She said we'll see each other later and I took that as my cue to go do my own thing. I wondered if Riley was more than a friend - it did seem that way. Nah, my sister is straight; I have first-hand experience to back it up. Well, she could be bisexual?

I know it's wrong to stereotype, but Blake always seemed to be the tomboy out of the two and she never had boyfriends. But I guess that doesn't mean anything.

Anyway, I didn't care what they were up to in the room next door, just that the sister I'd come to visit seemed to be ignoring me. It was disappointing. The thought crossed my mind that what happened last time was a regret to her. Then I wondered if I regret it. No, I wanted to do it again. I wanted more.

The rest of the morning I did some work and played games. I also revived my old laptop to do some digital spring-cleaning. I hoped, my sister didn't find the folder labelled 'homework' in the time she had it.

Despite my job, computers always made me anxious for some reason. I'm a software engineer, but I spent most of my time dealing with clients. I have no love for programming, but I knew it would be a good career path. Some of Blake's drive and ambition rubbed off on me and she got hers from our dad.

Speaking of him, he arrived home early afternoon. Greeting me with his normal coolness, "Ah, Joshua, how was your flight?"

He was an attention-seeker and could talk only about himself. We proceeded to talk about airplanes and travel for almost an hour, which is close to record-time for us. Mick wasn't a bad guy or a bad dad, but he has always been self-centred. He owned a 'wellness' business (a.k.a. pyramid-scheme) and embraced a hippy-millionaire persona. This agreed with his silver-fox, tight-black-shirt, cool bracelets, shark-tooth necklace look.

"Well, I need to run to the shops now," and with that he dismissed me. He loved 'the shops', and went more as a distraction than a necessity. I didn't blame him for wanting to get out of the house. There was an awkwardness in the air, with everyone holed up in different corners of the building.

If Blake had Dad's ambition, then Emily had his control. What did I have? His business sense? No, that one also went to Blake. I'd forgotten how cool my older sister was. She took the best (and sometimes worst) parts of my dad and made it work in a way that he couldn't. I concluded my thinking by landing on his love of 'the shops' as our only common characteristic.

Chapter Three: Happy Birthday, Happy Meal"

Now would be a good time to draw your attention to something that you may have already noticed. For the several hours I'd been at home, not one person in my family had wished me a happy birthday. Did that make me feel sad? Sure, but I also knew they couldn't all be that dense. My dad believed in surprise parties and 'surprise' gifts. These became less surprising with every year that passed.

Early that evening, I was chilling in my room when I heard footsteps and then, "Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you..."

The raspy voice was my mom's and she came into my room holding a huge red velvet cake. My dad, my sisters, and Riley were following her. I exchanged hugs and pecks on the cheek with my family. Dad first passed me a small gift-bag: it was a multi-tool which he declared was a necessity for a man living on his own. It had his company's branding on it...

Then came the traditional second 'surprise' gift. After he was pleased by my look of bewilderment at the first gift, Dad pulled out the second. It was a huge box with an unmistakable shape. Let's face it, there's little that's more exciting than unwrapping a big present. I hadn't asked for anything in particular, but this was an incredible gift: a brand new guitar. I played a bit when I was younger. My dad played and it was the one activity we'd bond over. I shook his hand in appreciation, actually hoping we'd play together again at some point.

Mom was wearing an apron and must have been in the kitchen, though I hadn't heard her with my earphones in. She insisted that we go downstairs for dinner. The kids got their height from her, and their vivid brown eyes. Dad had the 'prettier' face: a strong jawline but with delicate features. He looked like a boy-band heartthrob. It was a good combination and I'd like to think my sisters weren't the only two who inherited these good looks.

I have no clue how I missed their arrival because Mom and Blake had been cooking up a storm downstairs. Blake wasn't much of a cook, so I guessed the housekeeper might have also helped. "Your sister is very proud of herself Josh," Mom said, "I think she's been practising.

It wasn't a fancy meal, but oh, my God it was divine! Spring rolls, then steak with mushroom sauce and stir-fried veggies. Don't even get me started on the home-baked red velvet cake. The menu was Blake's idea, and she nailed it! I'm a carnivore, but I also enjoyed my vegetables.

My theory that Riley was staying over was bolstered by when I saw she and my sister changed clothes at some point. Wearing comfortable sweaters and skinny jeans. Blake also changed at some point; giving up the power-suit for her trademark tomboy look. She was wearing a white button-up shirt over a grey graphic-tee. As she got older, her style didn't change much, but she wore more expensive sneakers each year. She had on a pristine white pair of shoes that cost the price of a small car. Her look definitely would not look good on 90% of 24-year olds, but she had the swagger that could make it work.

We drank wine and talked crap for hours. As the night went on my dad began bitching my mom - as was his habit - and they turned in at about nine-thirty. I couldn't help but notice that Riley and my sister were getting very tipsy and handsy with one another. Still, I couldn't make out if they were lovers or very close friends.

While they were occupied with each other, Blake and I chatted like we hadn't spoken in years. In truth, it had almost been a year. I was disappointed that Emily wasn't spending any time with me, but I was glad I could catch-up with my older sis. "So, are you planning on coming over more often?" she asked.

I don't know if I was neglectful, or if it was the natural way of things, but we didn't talk often; not me and Mom, or Blake, or Emily, or Dad. Although we'd grown apart over the years, I was enjoying this time with my older sister a lot. Spending time with my parents was also not too bad. Maybe their nest emptying calmed their intense emotions a bit. "Well, that might be a good idea," I replied.

"That's great! We'd all like that," she proclaimed, looking over to our sister.

I was beginning to feel glad I came when out of the corner of my eye I saw Emily kissing Riley. My neck was warming and I could feel my breaths shorten. I couldn't look away, but looking felt like dying. Suddenly, the feeling that left after our one night of fooling around was back. This time it felt more dangerous; it was still standing on a ledge, still a hand around my neck. But this time I could fall, this time I could suffocate. She'd been telling mom how much she missed me, and I guess some naive part of me thought she was just as in love as me.

I never liked any of Emily's boyfriends, but I could chalk that up to being protective. A girl though? What I was feeling now was jealousy, plain and simple. But there was also something about it that turned me on. Seeing my little sister kissing a pretty girl, and so lovingly, was exciting. I couldn't help but stare as my heart and my head tore themselves apart. Why do men like the sight of two girls kissing?

There was a tenderness between them and any question of whether they were friends or lovers was answered. My world crashed as I realised that the little sister I fell in love with is in love with someone else.

My internal crisis was interrupted when Blake rose to her feet, "Well, I should be getting back to my place. It's getting late."

Looking for a way out of the uncomfortableness of what was happening, I asked, "It's already late. Will you be okay driving alone?"

Blake smiled. She probably thought her little brother was worried about her. "You can join if you'd like. In fact, I have a spare bedroom," she replied.

That sounded like a great idea. I didn't think I could handle a night in the company of my sapphic sister. I had a lot to process.

We greeted a drunk Emily and her 'friend'. They slurred something in reply but were far too tipsy and turned-on to notice us.

Once we got in the car, Blake turned to me with a tilted head and sympathetic eyes. "It takes a bit of getting used to," she explained that the two girls have been an item for a couple of months now. Also, Emily never 'came out', which I thought was good. I hope one day it will always be like that: natural. Accepted, without the need for a big event to please-explain.

We drove in silence for a while before Blake made an unexpected stop at a McDonald's drive-thru. "Remember when you were little, we always went to McD's on your birthday?"

"Yeah, those were the days," I smiled at her. She was being so sweet.

My childhood birthday parties were always the talk of the town. Even though I wasn't Mr Popular, both my sisters always went out of their way to make things special. The secret was to keep it simple and varied. Go do a bunch of little things instead of renting one bouncy castle and calling it a day. Each birthday's worth of activities would always end at McDonalds. We'd invite all the kids in my class, but I was only ever friends with a couple. I would spend all my time with Blake, who would do bad magic and tell rude jokes to entertain her little brother. Emily would always shower me with attention as well; usually, hug after hug. This was the first year that she hadn't.

Blake ordered two cheeseburger happy meals. It was more of a gesture than a practical thing. I was still feeling stuffed after our big dinner and I'm sure she felt the same.

I haven't appreciated my big sister like I should have.

While we waited at the next window, Blake's hand moved onto mine. She seemed to think for a second, "What's up Bro?" she could see that I was feeling down after discovering Em's lover, but I couldn't tell her why. Before I could respond, she added, "I understand, it might be hard to accept that she's gay, but there's nothing wrong with it. You know that right?"

God, in her mind it was homophobia making me upset. I had to spit out something to convince her otherwise, "No, it's not that..."

I couldn't tell her I was jealous. I paused, not knowing how to continue. Blake considered me in her gaze and said, "Oh, I think I understand." She smiled, giving my hand a squeeze before returning her attention to the drive-thru window. Did she understand and if she did, how did that make her feel? Her brother jealous of his sister's partner?

We got our takeaways and made small talk as we drove the last few minutes to her place. She asked about my work and I asked about hers. She was thinking of starting her own business. "I might actually start on my pilot's license," she said.

"Wow, that's great! I thought you might have given up on that dream," but who was I kidding? Blake never gave up.

As she parked, something dawned on me. "Uhm, Bro," I let out an involuntary snort, "I didn't bring an overnight bag."

Seems we were both so eager to ditch my parents' place that we didn't plan at all. Luckily, we're built pretty much the same and she offered to loan me a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

It was a short elevator ride up to her seventh-floor apartment. It was a two-bedroom unit. Brand new, and with sleek modern finishes. Everything was either white or a very light wood. You entered through the kitchen, which led to an open-plan living area. She had a single L-shaped couch facing a wall where there was space for a television, but no television. Everything was very minimalist - clean and modern. Here and there were a few potted plants, but nothing that seemed high-maintenance. The only light in the room came from the streets as her blinds weren't closed. It looked like a fire was crackling somewhere, giving everything a gentle orange tint.

As we stepped in she immediately walked to a little FM-radio standing on a shelf above the kitchen counter. "I hate the quiet," she explained.

A familiar sound began to play as the radio crackled to life...

Oh, my love, my darling

I've hungered for your touch.

My sister turned to me, beaming. Blake loved the older stuff. She grabbed my hand and spun me around theatrically. Then, with a hand around my waist and the other holding mine, we began slowly dancing in her kitchen. I loved the fact that it was an older radio. Some songs just sound better with that little bit of distortion.

The room seemed to fade around us as we swayed gently to the smooth music. It was just me and her in the world at that moment, with the music to keep us company. The glow from outside softened everything. We weren't two people dancing in an apartment and we weren't brother and sister. We were two souls stripped of our bodies, enveloped by the night. I didn't need to know how to dance, nor did she. Being with her like this felt natural; like rain splashing onto my face. It was an invitation to be joyful and infatuated.

I couldn't help but smile from ear-to-ear, "You're having fun."

"I've missed you so much, lil' bro," she said, resting her head on my shoulder as we kept drifting around in each other's arms.

It finally hit me. "Your sister misses you," wasn't my mom referring to Emily. She meant Blake. I didn't think I could feel more terrible about having neglected to speak to her than I already did, but oh boy, could I...

I'd been so besotted with Emily for all these years that I almost forgot about my other sister. My closest childhood friend. When she was 13, I was 10 and Emily was 8. That's when Emily and I went one way and she went another. It wasn't that she got older or disinterested. I was gravitating towards the sister who was closer to my age. Life suddenly made more sense and I started to feel a way I hadn't felt in a long time.

As we stood there, moving side-to-side, holding each other tight; I remembered my childhood admiration. It was that first-crush feeling that I never quite understood when I was too young for love like that.

The song faded, but the next one was even better.

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

We started to dance with more vigour. She'd spin me around, then we'd sway a bit before I did the same to her. I don't think either of us had ever smiled so broadly. Here and there we'd step on a toe, but that just seemed to make us even happier. I began to add little flourishes, and soon she joined. The dancing became a bit more bouncy; like an old-school swing.