Cara & Dennis

Five years is a big difference in age when you're young. My brother Dennis practically seemed like an adult to me. He called me 'Little Cara'. As children we lived in Greenwich Village in New York City. When I started school at five my mother went back to work and Dennis became more than just an older brother.

He took me to and from school on west 11th street. (Where you can get the best pizza in the world at "Ray's Famous") We spent every afternoon together until our mother came home for dinner.

I never remember him complaining about having to take care of me. He brought me to the stickball and punchball games where I sat and played with dolls or the coloring books he brought for me. Mostly we stayed in the small apartment where he read about cars and made up games for us to play.

As we got older I realized that not everyone had a person like my brother who would be there when they had a problem or wanted to hear what Mrs. Cleary did when Gary threw the eraser out the window. I looked up to him for the right and some of the wrong reasons.

By the time he was a senior in high school, Dennis was a 'celebrity'. He played in a band, was in the Viscounts Social Club (gang) and had a comfortable charm around the girls. The small scar on the left cheek of his handsome face didn't seem to hurt. He had as many guys around him as girls probably because they hoped something would rub off on them.

By the time I reached thirteen, I was a desperately unhappy girl. I was one of the youngest freshmen in the school after 'skipping' eighth grade. (Too smart I thought) I guess my face was average looking; (Ugly I thought) my body was more fully developed than the seniors. (Grotesque I thought)

I came home crying on too many days because of the unwanted attention from the boys. I even tried binding my breasts until Dennis made me stop. He told me I was pretty but no matter how much I looked up to him; in this area I didn't believe him.

The day before Christmas vacation three senior boys made a huge mistake. They were having a good time after their last period class: grabbing pocketbooks, messing hair and occasionally feeling a girl up. They didn't know whose sister I was and felt up the wrong girl.

Dennis came home and found me sobbing. His face turned red but he calmly asked who the boys were. He was able to find out about one of them and got his phone number. I told him "no" a hundred times but finally Dennis made me call him up. I'll never forget the conversation or the sound of his smirking voice.

"Hi it's Cara the girl you 'met' today after school. I was going to the Waverly for the five o'clock show and thought you might like to come".

"Sure babe, all right, I'll be there. See you on Sixth Avenue".

I could have cried because for an hour that bastard thought I wanted to meet him.

Dennis wouldn't let me come. He took a knife even though I begged him not to. I'm grateful to this day that he didn't use it but he beat the living crap out of that kid. When vacation was over the three boys came over and apologized and begged me to tell Dennis that they were sorry. I never told him who the other two boys were.

I had some dates but I never got involved with anyone except Reuel who was a nerd like me and wanted to be a physicist. We made out some in the movies and did a little touching but mostly we did schoolwork. I realized later that I was still a virgin when I graduated high school because none of the boys I went out with was Dennis.

You wouldn't believe how many nights Dennis stayed up listening to me feeling sorry for myself. Now I can believe it because "I'm not pretty, I have no friends", etc. always led to tears; and that always led to Dennis holding me. Poor little girl finally in her big brother's arms with her body on his as he strokes and comforts her. I didn't know what I was doing until I was TWENTY YEARS OLD. How dumb can you be? If it was someone else I would have seen it in a minute.

When I realized what it was about for me, Dennis was living alone and I was visiting him almost every day. When I realized how I wanted Dennis I thought I wasn't going to be with anyone else so I might as well try and be with him.

The first time I kissed him I'm ashamed to say I was in tears again even though by then I 'knew'. He was holding me and I kissed him as if he'd been my lover forever. He pulled back and said, "Cara, do you know what you're doing?"

I said "yes" and started to kiss him again.

"Cara honey, we should talk about this."

I said, "No" and started unbuttoning his shirt. I could see he was undecided at that point and I took off my dress. He took a deep breath gave me an 'I hope you know what you're doing' look and took off my bra. This was the first time having a woman's body brought me pleasure. I loved having his hands on me and in me. I loved holding his hardness in my hand knowing my body could do that to him. It thrilled me and wet me that my brother wanted me.

I was a virgin and expected it to hurt when he first entered me but all I felt was good. There was no pain and no blood. I held him while he was in me and wanted never to let him go. Every time he moved in me I moaned and smiled. He filled me and I came with my nails digging into his back

He made my first time beautiful and that made it even more difficult later on. He made all my times beautiful and that made it impossible.

I worked at a radio station from seven in the morning until two. Even though I had an apartment that I shared with someone to help pay the rent, I spent most of my time at Dennis'. He wasn't always there but I would go over and sometimes make dinner or fix up around the house. I knew I was playing 'wife' at this time but it made me feel connected to him. I put myself to sleep every night running one story or another where Dennis and I lived together in an isolated country home loving and living just for each other.

I wanted him all the time. When he touched me or was inside me, he told me I was pretty and I almost believed him. I wanted to be his girl, his 'Little Cara', his beautiful girl, his only girl. Dennis was kind and never led me to believe that it was possible. Even though he never brought women home if he knew I would be there, he saw other women. He always encouraged me to go out. I never did.

I spent my days thinking how I could make it good for Dennis. What could I do to make him happy? What could I buy that would make him smile? How could I be better for him?

He cared for me and was warm and protective but no matter how close or intimate we got, he made me go home every night. In the fourteen months that he made love to me, we only spent one full night together, the last night.

It was seven months ago, it was snowing and when he came home and I was making dinner. When I saw his face, I knew I was going to hate what he had to say.

"Cara, it would be too easy for me to keep on doing this with you and too hard for you. I'm twenty six and the day is going to come when I get serious with someone. You can't spend these years on something that will just make you suffer more later on."

I pleaded, I cried, I explained how we could work it out in a hundred different ways. Nothing on earth was going to change his mind. What happened that night may make Dennis seem unkind but it's a memory that comforts me.

After all the talk and tears, calm came over me. I had no illusions at that point. I knew it would be last time I would ever make love with him. He saw that I understood.

He took my clothes off and I smiled at him. I could see his eyes well with tears but he smiled back and they never fell. He kissed me all over and told me how beautiful each part of me was and I believed him. He kissed me and told me that someone is out there who's going to love me because of who I am and I believed him.

I took him in my mouth and tasted him. I wouldn't stop until he came. I waited for him to harden again and come again. He was in me that night until I was sore and raw. I fell asleep on him; we woke each other countless times. His mouth and fingers found every part of me as did mine. It was impossible for me to come anymore but his tongue was on me and I was coming and coming.

I kissed his salty forehead as I got up at six, exhausted, to go to work. He reached and held my breast and then fell back to sleep.

The first few months were anything but easy. I see now that sometimes you just live with an ache. I'm still over there a lot and Dennis is still holding my hand when I need it. I've gone out with a few men and slept with my 'second'. Will he be the one that heals me and makes me whole? Because of Dennis, he may.