Just What I Needed

"You don't watch anything on it?"

"Nada. You know how much TV I watch, but it's not like I could even if I wanted. Michael and I haven't gotten cable yet. Oh sweet! I forgot about this one." I held up Labyrinth for Danny to see.

"We haven't watched Labyrinth in ages!" he exclaimed, grabbing the DVD case from my hand. It was nice to see the Danny I'd grown up with spark back into him. "God, we wore out the VHS we had of this. I asked mom what happened to it once, and she said she'd thrown it out."

"That's what happened to it?"

"I know, right? I couldn't believe it either. When'd you get it on DVD?"

"Not me, actually," I said, "Michael got it for me after a very long rant about how ridiculous it was that he'd never seen it. We watched it together, and you know what?" Danny looked at me expectantly. "He said didn't like it."

"The nerve on that guy! Seriously, Beck, I can pummel him, you just say the word." He put down the movie and made a repeated fist-in-palm motion, which made me laugh.

"Oh stop," I said laughing, putting my hands on his. "Nobody's pummeling anybody." His hands opened and took mine, and when I looked up, he was smiling. I felt something flutter in my abdomen.

"Do you want to?" he asked.

I swallowed. "Want to what?"

"Watch it!" he said, his expression bright. My eyes went down to the case on the table and my brain sighed in understanding.

"Now?" I supposed I could. Michael wouldn't be home for hours.

"Come on, let's do it. You don't have any popcorn do you?"

I checked the pantry and couldn't find any, but I did find some pretzels, and of course we still had our sodas. I loaded the disc in the side of the TV and headed to the sofa, where Danny had already set up camp in one corner, his sneakers strewn across the floor. I plopped down next to him, and noticed something conspicuously missing from the little coffee table.

"Um, where's the remote?" I asked.

My brother just looked at me with one raised eyebrow, stifling an obvious grin, with both hands incriminatingly behind his back. I held out one hand and gave him a look.

"Nuh uh," he said.

"You're being a child," I said, but I was grinning anyway. I slowly edged my hands toward him before lunging at his sides, trying to reach around them to his back. In a swift motion, he raised his right hand as high as he could bring it, and my own hands followed upward in hot pursuit. I lost my support, and fell into him as I reached up, my chest pressing against his face.

"Stop it!" I said with a giggle, his arm still flailing to keep the remote away from me, but I wouldn't give up. I lifted my bare legs and crawled across his body, causing several grunts and groans every time I put a knee down, and when I finally reached it he relinquished it willingly.

"Gotcha!" I said, but instead of climbing back down, I felt my brother's other hand moving up my leg. He dropped his other arm until both of his hands were on my hips, and then with sudden force he pushed me across the loveseat to the far end. My back hit the cushion that rested there, and I fell into a sitting position, my legs on the sofa up against him. We sat there for a moment looking at each other, catching our breaths.

Eventually he nodded toward the TV and said, "Shall we?"

I said sure, and clicked the TV on, hitting play at the menu. I wasn't in the most comfortable position, so I started to adjust myself. I saw him move his arms as if making room, and on autopilot I put my legs across his lap.

"You don't mind, do you?" I asked.

"Not at all," he said, not shifting his view from the movie.

We watched mostly in silence, my legs absent-mindedly moving across his lap, my feet shifting across the far end of the loveseat. I soon became all too aware of a stiffness in his jeans that I could feel on the back of my calves, but I made no sign that I had noticed.

I didn't know what I was doing. There was some sibling teasing going on, but this was something else entirely. I lost focus of the movie, which I had seen dozens of times before anyway, and started to wonder when this had started. Something told me that it hadn't just been a week ago, but if I were asked to pinpoint exactly what had happened I don't think I could. It was looks, mostly; I'd catch him looking at me, or my eyes would linger in his a little too long before looking away. I'd always ignored it and moved on, pretending it was just a game or that it was nothing, but that was getting a little hard to do when the issue was pressing against the back of my legs. And of course there was the fact that I was not only doing nothing to stop it, but actually pushing it forward. But I couldn't stop myself and, more to the point, I wasn't sure I wanted to.

I stole a glance at Danny and saw that he was looking down at my legs rather than at the movie. His hands lay at his sides under my legs. I slipped my toes under his far arm, using my feet to lift it up so it was on top of my legs. He looked up at me and I nodded. He got his nearer arm out and put them on top of my legs, too. I felt his hands touch me, caressing my legs, his fingertips slowly tracing their way from my feet to my knees. From time to time, he would knead the muscles of my lower thighs, and even move up to where my cutoffs started, but he'd never go further than that, always trailing his way back down. It felt luxurious and sensuous and erotic and incredibly forbidden all at once, but I just sat and watched the movie.

At some point I scooted my ass down toward him so that I was lying flatly and my legs were extending out over the other edge of the couch. He tried to keep his hands at my thighs, but I slowly took the one closest to me and brought it down onto my stomach, inviting him to caress me. His fingers tentatively began exploring me there, swirling around in circles, teasing toward the bottom of my tank top. After a few butterfly-filled minutes, I felt his fingertips pushing up the hem, exposing the skin of my stomach. I felt a surge of blood in my face and between my legs as his movements became more deliberate, one hand still stroking the inside of my thigh and the other on my abdomen. Eventually I could no longer even pretend to be watching the film, and I looked over at him. His steely eyes were focused squarely on mine, his expression indecipherable. I could see arousal and lust, but I could also see something else, something that looked a lot like fear.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling a little afraid too.

Looking me squarely in the eye, he started moving his flattened hand up the skin of my stomach under my tank top toward my breasts, and I closed my eyes and leaned my head back while my breathing quickened.

We both jerked violently when we heard my phone ring, his hands ripping away from me and going to his face. I heard us both take several deep breaths trying to compose ourselves. I swung my legs around and stood up, but I had moved too quickly, and I wobbled and fell to my hands and knees on the carpet.

"Are you okay?" I immediately heard him croak out. He cleared his throat and asked again, but I just said I was fine. I slowly rose and walked over to my bag, which was still leaning against a leg of the table, and fished out my phone.

"It's Michael," I said, looking up at my brother, hoping he'd tell me not to answer it. But he didn't. He just motioned a gesture signifying I should probably do something. I hesitantly tapped the call on.

"Hey Michael," I said. I sounded hoarser than I meant to.

"Hey honey, you all right?" I heard him say, the sounds of his restaurant's kitchen in background. Danny was looking at his hands now, flipping them over and over.

"Yeah," I said, pushing my hair out of my face and sitting in a chair at the table. I cleared my throat and said, "I'm fine. What's up?"

"They're letting me off early tonight, some event downtown's pulling all our usual business." I saw Danny reach for the remote and mute the TV, standing up. His jeans were tenting with an erection I had caused. "Do we need anything at the store?"

"Umm," I stalled, forcing myself to look away from the bulge across the room, not wanting to think right now, not wanting to be in a conversation with Michael right now. "No, I don't think so. Oh wait." I got up and went to the fridge, where a list was tacked on with a magnet. I read off the few things that were on it and looked over to see my brother peeking through the blinds. Michael said he'd see me soon, and I accidentally hung up without replying.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," he replied, still looking out the window.

"Has the rain stopped?"

"Yeah. Still a bit wet, though."

Slowly, I walked over to him in silence. I could hear the dripping of gutters still dealing with the weather and see the sunlight, which faded when Danny dropped the shades and they swung back to covering the window.

I felt terrible. I wanted to hug Danny, but he didn't look like he would be particularly receptive to that right now.

"He'll be home soon," I said.

"I should probably go."

"You're probably right."

How was I supposed to handle a situation like this? I didn't want him to go, but the last thing I wanted was for him to be here when my boyfriend came home. My boyfriend! As if it wasn't bad enough that I was getting physical with my brother--not a step-brother, not a half-brother, my full-blood brother Daniel--I was also cheating on my boyfriend. My head was swimming in every direction, almost all of them bad. The one thing that didn't seem so bad was standing right in front of me, obviously in as much turmoil as I was.

"I think we probably shouldn't see much of each other for a while," he said. Of all the things he could have said, that hurt the most.

"Don't say that," I said. "We were both just in a weird mood today, that's all."

"Maybe. Still, some space wouldn't hurt. At least for a little bit."

I wanted to argue, to tell him everything was fine, but I couldn't even make myself believe it. Maybe he was right and we really shouldn't see each other for a while.

"Okay," I said in resignation. "But I still expect you to text me sometimes, alright? I'm not going to let you get away with avoiding me completely."

"Deal," he said with a forced smile.

We stood there awkwardly for a moment before I leaned in and hugged him. If I wasn't going to see him for an indeterminate amount of time, I at least wanted that last little bit of contact before he left. He didn't hug me back right away, but when he did it was a good reminder of how bad my own internal conflict was. Maybe it was just as well I wouldn't have him around to remind me.

When I felt him start to let go and pull away, I held him a little longer and moved my head to kiss him on the cheek. It was probably a dumb move under the circumstances, and kind of weird for me, but my impulsive side decided to do it anyway.

Before I could complete even that small gesture, Danny jerked his face away from me like he'd been hit. I felt a sudden force push me back hard and I hit the wall behind me before bouncing off onto the floor. My brother stared down at me with his arms still outstretched from pushing me and an unreadable expression on his face. I must have freaked him out, like he thought I was going to kiss him for real or something.

"Danny, I..." I started, trying to figure out how to apologize, and what to apologize for. I assumed he'd do the same, say he was sorry, help me off the floor at least, but instead he just turned and opened the door. "Danny?" I said again, confused and worried this time.

He walked out and shut the door behind him without so much as a backward glance. I stared after him for a minute or two hoping he'd come back, but he didn't. I'd fucked up, that was all there was to it. One simple little thing that I shouldn't have done, and I might have blown my chances of my brother wanting to so much as talk to me in the near future. Not knowing what else to do I curled up on the floor right where I was and cried.

* * * * *

Michael found me like that when he got home half an hour later. At first I spurned all of his efforts to talk to me, but eventually gave in and tried to blame it on the movie. He noted that I hadn't reacted that way the last time we'd watched it, but let it go. I know he didn't believe me, but we both knew I'd never tell him what was really bothering me. I thought it was better that way.

Things went more or less back to normal after a day or two. His "band" was getting a few small gigs, and I even went to a couple of them, but they weren't really my thing. Plus I was getting a lot of extra shifts at work and couldn't always make the shows, which was good because it kept me distracted from thinking too hard about Danny.

Or maybe it wasn't so good that I was keeping so busy, because it took me a while to realize just how often Michael wasn't around. A few times when I tried to call him his phone was off, and while I figured he was just on stage or forgot to turn his phone back on the first few times, after a while I started to wonder. I tried texting Jerron, asking where the show was, only to find out that there wasn't anything going on that particular night. When Michael did finally make it home, it was three in the morning and he was a little more than a little tipsy. When he wanted to be, Mike was a closed book, so it was hard to read him let alone get useful information from him. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but started to have my suspicions.

If it were true, I couldn't help at least partly blaming myself. I'd grown cold and withdrawn over the past month or so. Even when I managed to pull through for a really good day, something always reminded me of Danny.

One night, Michael got off early. He came in while I was on the bed on my laptop and crawled in next to me.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," I replied.

"How you doin' today?"

"Fine," I said distractedly.

He waited for me to say something else, but I didn't. I felt two of his fingers walking along my stomach, making their way to my side. He raised his hands and started to tickle my sides.

"Stop," I said. This wasn't funny. He kept at it. "I saidstop." I tossed the laptop onto the bed and shoved his arms away. Not that. Anything but that.

His expression looked like he was a puppy and I had just kicked him in the face.

"Becky, what am I doing wrong?"

"I just don't want to be tickled right now, okay?" I turned away from him.

"You know that's not what I mean. You've got to open up to me or we're never gonna make this work. Something's been on your mind, and it's driving me crazy not knowing what it is."

"Maybe you should try leaving your phone on once in a while, maybe you'd find out if you did that." That wasn't true, but I had to deflect the conversation anywhere I could.

He hesitated before replying. "I just turn it off for my shows, I have to, you know that."

I turned and gave him a look. He tried to laugh nervously.

"Becky..."

"I know," I said, giving in a little. I didn't want this to turn into a full-blown argument, especially if I wasn't completely sure he was fooling around. But his reaction nudged me even further in that direction. "You want to know what's been bothering me?"

"Of course I do," he said.

I had to give him something. "It's scary being on my own, okay? Actually being responsible for myself, buying my own groceries, picking up my own prescriptions. I found out that my mom's already trying to remodel my room, and it makes me feel even more like I'm on my own than I've ever felt before. On top of that, I can't even get my brother--" My voice broke out for a moment and I started tearing up. I felt a surge of intense anger realizing how pissed I was at him for how our last encounter ended. I used my palm to wipe the tears from my face. "--to call me back. I feel like I've lost almost everyone in my life. I feel more alone than ever, and when you aren't here almost every night on top of that it drives me crazy." There was a lot more truth in there than I had wanted. I hugged my knees and waited for him to say something.

"Jesus," he said. At least he seemed genuinely concerned. He tried to put his arms around me, and I let him. "I'll try to be here more, okay? If it means that much to you. I just, I have my dream too, you know?"

"No, no," I said, putting myself together. "It's fine Michael. I know that you've got to do what you've got to do. If you aren't working on it every night, it's hard to make it anywhere with your music thing, I get that. Just, I'm sorry, I think a lot of this might just be hormones, too." Even though he seemed understanding, I threw in the last bit because I wanted this to be over.

He was quiet for a moment, concerned for me, but also obviously grateful for my slightly passive-aggressive acknowlegement of his needs. I couldn't help feeling he was being selfish, but who was I to talk. He kissed me on the cheek, and I forced myself not to pull away.

We didn't have sex at all for the following week. The week after, he went back to late nights, sometimes not coming home at all. He'd text me those nights, but rarely call. I didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on, especially with his bandmates' Facebook updates blatantly showing that his alibis couldn't hold up.

And of course, my mind went back to Danny. One night after I'd had a few I tried calling him, but he didn't pick up. By June, two months after this whole thing started, I still hadn't heard from him. I decided to try being sneaky. I called our mom.

I managed to slip in asking about Danny in our conversation, feigning disinterest, and found out quite a lot. Mom liked to talk, and for once I was grateful.

Danny had graduated, but had decided against community college, against both our parents' wishes. I could tell there had been fights about this from the way she talked about it. He had gotten a job somewhere working with computers, she said, and was hoping to move out soon. She said she was worried about him, that he disappeared with the car for long periods of time at night. She asked if he'd come to see me, or if I'd heard anything from him. I told her I hadn't.

Two nights later, that changed.

* * * * *

I was making ramen when I heard the knock at the door.

I knew that knock.

I had heard that knock countless times on my bedroom door back home.

My mind went into overdrive thinking what I should do, what I was going to say, but now that I knew he was at the door my mind started going blank. All I could remember was the last time he was at that door, being pushed against the wall and left crying on the floor. I lowered the heat and took slow, deliberate steps to the door, habitually looked at myself in the mirror beside it, took a deep breath, and turned the lock.

He stood in the light of the walkway wearing jeans and a disheveled white button-down. He actually looked pretty good, or would have if it weren't for his eyes. They were bloodshot, red from crying. I thought his voice would be broken or something, but it wasn't. It was low and firm and clear.

All he said was, "Is he here?"

"No," I said.

"Will he be here soon?"

"No."

He tried to walk in, but I blocked the doorway.

"Why should I let you in here? After how you left me last time?"

"We need to talk Becky. Do you want to do it on the walkway here?"

I weighed my options and stepped aside. He walked in and I closed the door behind him.

"Why now?" I asked.

"What?"

"Why now do you decide that we need to talk? Because I think the time we really needed to talk was two months ago when you walked out that door."

"I can't excuse what I did, Becky," he said, looking me straight in the eye. "The only thing I have to offer is that at that moment I was scared out of my mind."