Avery and Jenna Pt. 12: Avowal

Ignoring the ad, he turned his head to peer at his computer. The first thing that came to mind for him was whether it would be considered inappropriate to masturbate to pictures of his, now, ex-girlfriend. What was the etiquette for a situation like this? Was he supposed to delete them permanently? Would anyone blame him for keeping them, so he could have the occasional tug session? Since he and Jenna started taking pictures and making videos of their sex, he had all but stopped watching porn. To him, nothing was sexier than to watch he and her performing all the things the adult stars would do, within the comfort of their home and the trust of their love. Now that that love was, seemingly, gone, what was to become of the homemade pornography? The show started again, and Avery's attention went back to the rather slow-paced episode. One of the main characters was attempting to escape from a hospital, but she was stopped before she could. It was an episode with which he was familiar, so he instead looked through some very old pictures of Jenna. Coming across one of the oldest pictures, Jenna was handcuffed to the iron bars of her old bed in her mother's house. He remembered the day very well, as it was immediately after they reconciled after he cheated on her with Tiffany.

*BUZZ, BUZZ*

A call broke the monotony of the show on the television. The caller was a surprise, albeit only a minor one.

"Hello?" He answered weakly.

"How are you doing, Avery?"

"I'm fine, Alicia. Everything's fine," he responded, sitting up from his prone position atop the small couch.

"I saw what happened on Facebook this morning. With Jenna, I mean," she said modestly. The background was polluted with the trash that played on the radio. Some stupid pop artist with great looks, little talent, and a songwriter with a catchy hook. Typical top-forty fare.

"Yeah. It was her decision."

"I'm sorry, Avery," she said earnestly.

"Thanks, but I really am fine. I promise."

"Well, I don't want you to get mad, but I'm really worried about you. So, when I saw that you and she broke up, I started driving back to see you."

"What? Why? You don't have to come all the way from New York just to check on me," he said, dumbfounded about her reaction to the revelation.

"Avery, I only live four hours away. Besides, you're family. I promise I won't stay long. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Avery sighed into the receiver. He gazed around the room. Fortunately, there was not much clutter. Nothing an open trash bag and about ten minutes could not improve. He nodded in agreement.

"All right. I don't want to sound ungrateful. It would be nice to see you right now," he confessed. Standing from the couch, he rushed into the kitchen. Underneath the sink against the back wall was a cabinet. Amongst the various household items was a large box of white trash bags. He pulled one from the roll quickly.

"Well, I left almost three hours ago. I'm almost in Maryland now. My Maps app says I should be there in about an hour," she explained. Her car's navigation system recited a direction, alerting him to her exact distance. Indeed, she was close.

"All right. Well, I'll be waiting for you," he said, shaking the trash bag to open it.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"I ate some ice cream earlier."

"Have you had any real food today?" She remarked in a sterner tone.

"No. Just the ice cream and some beer."

"I'm asking because when I saw what happened online, I got dressed and started driving, so I haven't eaten at all today."

"I'm sorry," he said. He removed the spoon from one of the voided cartons of ice cream and shoved it, and various other items, into the bag.

"It's fine, but I'd like to eat something, if you're okay with that."

"That's okay. I should probably eat something as well," he responded, picking up empty beer cans from the carpet floor.

"How about when I get there, we can decide together what to get?"

"That sounds like a plan, sis," he said, racing over the dining room table. He tossed into the bag, old papers, grocery store receipts, and the empty bottle of Baton Bleu from Wednesday afternoon. Avery did not need, or want, a reminder of Wednesday.

"All right. I'll see you in a little bit, baby brother."

"Bye, Alicia."

"Bye."

The call ended. It was not long before the apartment appeared presentable, though it was far from clean. There were still dishes in the sink. The carpet could have done with a good vacuuming. Avery himself, needed a shower. He placed the trash bag on the floor in the kitchen and decided to squeeze one in before she arrived. On his way to the bathroom, Avery noticed underneath the table, the vase of roses he gave to Jenna. Strange that he had not seen them until now. The vase itself was almost completely empty, save for a very small amount of water barely covering the stems. The pedals themselves were only mildly withered. He quickly resituated them, filling the vase with fresh water and placing it back atop the table. Staring at the roses intently, memories of the day they were presented to Jenna came to mind. There was an infectious, bright smile on her face as she awoke from her nap to find them on the table. There was tremendous depth in her embrace when she kissed him that afternoon. Her lips felt soft and inviting, and their taste was sweet. A long sigh departed his body. Avery had no one to blame but himself for his behavior and the consequences it brought upon him. The roses, however, were innocent; they did not deserve to die before their time. They ran him an inflated thirty-five dollars; they were entitled to as much life as they could muster. Hurriedly, he trotted to the bathroom to clean himself of the events of the previous day.

As predicted, it was little more than an hour before Alicia made contact again, alerting him that she had arrived. Instead of buzzing her into the building, he decided to meet her at the front door. Lacking a need to impress her, he was dressed lazily, wearing a plain white shirt and blue jeans. No time was spared for putting on shoes. Avery believed his socks would be enough. Rushing out of the apartment and down the stairs, his heart beat to an uncomfortable rhythm. Knowing Alicia, there would be questions. A lot of questions. What specifically happened? Who said what? Who did what? Her inquisition from their first breakup replayed in his thoughts. That was a nightmare; the session was a two-hour waste. The first hour was belittling and criticizing his decision to sleep with Tiffany. The second hour was spent preaching to him about how to respect and cultivate a relationship. If only her lessons had taken root within him then, he may not have been in this situation now. He was unwilling to endure another two-hour lecture from her, and unsurprisingly, he was prepared to ask Alicia to leave, if she tried to give him one. Nevertheless, when his older stepsister entered his sight, all ill thoughts about her faded. She waved at him through the glass door, but there was no smile on her face. Maybe she believed that smiling in a situation such as this was inappropriate. Avery opened the door, and in walked his older, wiser, shorter stepsister.

"Hey, baby brother," she greeted, offering him a tight embrace after she entered. Alicia's smell immediately sieged his senses. To put it in a word, she smelled delicious. Her skin emanated a scent approximating that of a peach. Accounting for its acuteness, it was artificial, but it was the good kind of artificial. The kind that signified its source was not cheap. Likely, it was an expensive, boutique body lotion or cream. Twenty seconds passed before the hug ended, and Avery examined Alicia's outfit. Her blonde hair, that Avery dreaded so much, was let down and free to move as it pleased. Her shirt was an outrageous reflective silver with a pink outline. Some odd patterns and colors decorated the front, but the shirt, overall, was silver. Atop the shirt was a light blue denim jacket with a breast pocket on each side. She wore a pair of dark blue jeans that seductively hugged her curves. On her left hand was a large, green ring surrounding her middle finger, and a plain white bracelet surrounding her wrist. Her neck bore a long, gold necklace that extended two inches below what appeared to be her bra line. Save for a tiny kiss of makeup underneath her eyes, she did not appear overly detailed. Her fingernails were not painted. She wore no mascara or lipstick. Not that she needed either of them; her lips were naturally pink, and her eyelashes were naturally lengthy. Her hazel eyes sparkled from the light of the lobby. For a throwaway outfit, it was substantially better than his choice of garb.

"Hey sis," he finally responded back, leaning away from her. Alicia rested a hand on the back of his head, caressing it with her thumb.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whimpered. Alicia appeared more distraught about what happened than he was. At least she could shed some tears for his loss. The reality of the situation still eluded Avery.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. You didn't need to drive back here just to check on me," he replied. Alicia locked her left arm around his right arm as the pair walked towards the elevator. Avery paid close attention to the way she was walking in the mirrors surrounding the lobby. Her back was straight. Her tan wedge shoes afforded her about an inch and a half of additional height. Her powerful, shapely calves, thighs, and butt pushed back against her jeans. The woman with whom he was in love for four years was gone, and all he could do was check out his stepsister's curves.

"I believe you think you're all right, but I don't think you really are. I just want to make sure you're not going to do something dumb," she responded, pressing the button to call the elevator. Currently, it was stationed on the eighth floor. A few seconds later, the sound of old metal gears filled their ears. The elevator had begun its descent.

"Dumber than I already have?" He asked her, as the rolling dial next to the button displayed the number five.

"Dumb, like trying to find her and get her back, dumb," she responded. She squeezed his arm tighter. Avery sighed at her comment. Why were people treating him like a child? Janelle had deleted Jenna's contact information on his phone. She had also wiped her pictures, which was of no consequence, for they were saved on the cloud. Her contact information was likely saved there as well. Now, Alicia was here, embracing him in a way that was both comforting and condescending. Avery felt far less wounded by the split than Janelle or Alicia believed he was. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and opened, presumably to pick up a passenger. When it opened, Alicia rested her head against Avery's shoulder. Turning his head to see the crown of blonde hair on his person, his nostrils were filled with a pleasant scent. Deeply breathing in the aroma, it lowered his raised defenses. Alicia looked and smelled wonderful. Returning her affections, he leaned his head against hers. His body had to flex a little to position himself correctly, as Alicia stood at five feet, four inches, without the wedges. Avery was no giant himself, two inches shy of six feet. About half a minute later, the elevator dinged, opened, and the occupant was released. An older woman, dressed in all black, spared some time for a smile and greeting before exiting the building. Avery and Alicia stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. As the doors closed, Alicia placed her head back onto his shoulder. The interior of the door was like a mirror. In it, he could see Alicia's eyes were closed. She appeared blasé to inquiring about the incident, and more so in simply gracing him with her company and affection. For that, he was grateful.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, II

Alicia removed her shoes near the door, and placed her small tan purse onto the dining room table. She did not look around very much, opting instead to place her small hands onto her upper arms. Crossing them seconds later, she turned to her stepbrother, who had just finished locking the door.

"It's freezing in here," she stated. Her short, small body trembled from the icy drafts squeezing through the open balcony door.

"Sorry. Sometimes, I leave the balcony door open," he responded. Walking to the thermostat, he turned on the heater. Afterward, he rushed into the living room to close the balcony door.

"You always did enjoy cold weather. You'd love New York right now. Ice and snow everywhere," she said to him. Alicia strutted towards the small hallway. In front of her were three doors. The door to her left concealed a small linen closet. The door in front of her was the bathroom. The door to her right was the bedroom. Selecting the door facing her, she opened and closed it behind her. Meanwhile, Avery was scanning the apartment, making sure everything was in a passable state. A keener eye would have identified the small messes throughout the apartment. Alicia possessed such a keen eye. Avery, however, did not think she would care.

"If there's so much of it, why did you risk coming to visit?" He shouted to her as the balcony door made a loud sucking noise, implying that it was airtight.

"Because I wanted to make sure you were all right. I couldn't do that over the phone. I needed to see you in person," her voice rang out, echoing a similar point she made earlier. Avery was not buying it. If she really needed to see him, they could have skyped. Alicia driving the four hours to physically check on his wellbeing meant she was, possibly, concerned about something else. Standing in the center of the room, he placed his hand onto his forehead and rubbed it gently. A staggering pain suddenly coursed through it. It was so acute, he did not hear the toilet flush or Alicia washing her hands. Believing his pain was caused by tired eyes, he closed them tightly.

"Are you okay?" Alicia asked. He did not realize she had exited the bathroom.

"Yeah, I'm fine. All of a sudden, I got a really bad headache," he responded. Alicia walked slowly towards him and moved away his hand.

"Rubbing the temples can make it worse sometimes," she explained. Holding one of his hands in hers, she pressed deeply into the area between his thumb and forefinger. The pressure was, initially, unsettling. Despite that, her technique did yield the desired result, and his throbbing forehead began to settle. Alicia could see relief in the expression on his face. She smiled, albeit narrowly, as the clenched muscles upon his visage relaxed.

"Is that better?" She asked with low volume.

"Much," he answered. Delighted by his answer, she leaned upward and kissed his cheek.

"Good. Now, I'm starving. Can we decide what we're going to do about food?" Completing that sentence, she released his hand. Before she could pull away, Avery grabbed her once again.

"Alicia?"

"What? What's wrong? Does your head still hurt?"

"What are you doing here?" He said, opening his eyes. A deep, earthy brown. Looking deep within them, she found what she knew would be there. There was still magic, but there was also agony. The kind of pain that cannot be expressed or articulated. Only experienced. Alicia knew all too well how he felt. He deserved it; that much was true, but he was family. He had been her stepbrother since he was nine and she was thirteen.

"I'm here because I love you. I didn't want you to be alone right now," she answered, placing her hand onto his bristly cheek. "I'll leave, if that's what you want me to do, but I want to stay." He placed his hand onto hers and patted it against his cheek.

"I don't want you to leave," he confessed. Hearing his words, Alicia's smile, which had not yet faded from her face, widened and brightened.

"Pizza? Chinese?" She suggested.

"Let's do Jamaican."

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on! My girlfriend just left. I'm entitled to a Jamaican patty."

"Don't play that card with me. How about some charcoal chicken?"

"I had that yesterday," he stated humbly. "How about pho?"

"No. I had some Thursday night. What about Korean?"

"Mongolian barbeque?" The two of them stopped suggesting food. In a moment of synchrony, they both knew what they wanted. Together, they enthusiastically stated what kind of food they were going to eat.

"Indian!"

Their dinner arrived approximately forty minutes after placing the order. In the meantime, the stepsiblings caught up with the day-to-day grind of one another. Throughout their conversation, Alicia researched a method of excising the wine stain from the carpet. Avery neglected to mention the loss of his job, and he was doubly relieved when Alicia expressed no interest in knowing how the separation transpired. When the delivery driver arrived, Avery raced downstairs to receive their meal. Once he returned with the food, the two wasted no time in indulging.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Alicia asked, pushing a piece of nan bread into her mattar paneer.

"Of course! At that Indian restaurant on the strip. That was when our parents told us that they were getting married, and we were going to be brother and sister," he laughed, munching on a chunk of chicken.

"That whole day was weird. Your dad kept asking me all these questions, like he was trying to be my best friend," she replied.

"I remember. He kept talking about ideas for your quinceanera."

"You didn't even want to come to my quinceanera!"

"I didn't understand what it was."

"It's an important part of a Hispanic girl's passage to becoming a woman."

"I understand that now, but at the time..." before he could finish, Alicia interrupted his sentence.

"It's the Hispanic equivalent of a bat mitzvah," she joked, swallowing a sip of her tea. It was a local favorite at the restaurant from where they ordered their food. It was quite strong, perhaps a Darjeeling blend.

"I know, sis," he answered, finishing off the last of his curry chicken. He had ordered three platters for himself: two curry chicken platters to consume now, and a lamb curry platter for later in the night.

"You know, I wasn't the best big sister to you. I picked on you a lot," she said, moving away the paper bowl in which her spinach and chickpea soup was.

"Really? I never felt like that."

"You remember that blue Captain Planet binder pencil holder thingy you loved so much that disappeared? It was me. I stole it from your backpack and hid it in the hamper in our bathroom," she confessed, taking another sip of the black tea.

"Is that what happened to it? I thought a classmate had taken it."

"No. I did it. Granted, it's not as low as stealing my underwear, but I still did it."

"Can you blame me? I was at that age when all I wanted to do was jack off. I saw them and thought they were sexy," he said, pushing away his empty food containers. He picked up a half-full bottle of water sitting to his right and nearly finished it.

"They were very sexy, so imagine my disappointment when they disappeared. I knew you took them. I just couldn't prove it."

"How did you know?"

"By the way you behaved around me. When you started high school, I guess your hormones kicked in or something, because suddenly you were looking at me a lot more. The summer before your senior year in high school, I caught you checking me out when I was tanning in the backyard. That's why I started tanning at the beach instead, because I didn't want you watching me. It was weird because you barely spoke to me, but you kept looking at me."

"I've liked you since I first met you. I was just shy. It was difficult living with you because you always looked so beautiful. I didn't speak to you much because I figured you thought I was a dork or loser or something," he confessed.

"Be honest: did you fantasize about me often?" She asked. Her left eye was only partially opened, and her bottom lip was slightly curled inward. The look on her face was of pure seduction.