The reflection of my head and shoulders poking just above the top of my scratched dresser eyed me
hopefully, but looked too pathetic to be very convincing.
�What�s up, cornbread?�
I tried to rise so quickly I lost my balance and staggered briefly in an awkward, hunched dance.
�Grits-for-brains, you�re not serious about this whole proposal thing, are ya?�
I grinned to hide my embarrassment at getting caught. �Yes, gourdface. She is gonna be my wife and your
new mom.�
�Sister-in-law,� he corrected. �I don�t need a ma. I�m a man now. I can live on my own.�
I sprang suddenly for him and yanked him down upon the edge of the bed with me. We struggled and
crashed to the floor with a thud, laughing and fighting until I was able to hold him long enough to grind my
knuckles back and forth across the top of his head a few times.
David Nicholas Roglitz had thick black hair in dire need of a trim and dark blue eyes like mine that
glittered almost evilly beneath a set of thick, dark lashes. At times I could be envious of his aesthetically pleasing
features; the girls around here often described him as �dreamy�. At seventeen, he was still gangly, not fully grown
into his tall frame yet, with overlong limbs, wide shoulders, but no chest to speak of, yet considered himself a fully
grown man. With only about a year�s difference in age between us, I was the older brother, but still thought of
myself as a kid.
He broke free and scrambled to his feet so he could watch himself in the mirror while he smoothed out his
clothes and tucked in a few strands of flyaway hair. �When you get married, I�m outta this dump.�
I exploded with laughter. �To where? A cardboard box in an alley?�
�I�ve got a little stash tucked away,� he shot defensively.
�Oh, sure. You had money saved for a scooter and blew it all at Coney Island. You had money saved for a
hi-fi until I caught you blowing it all on your friends that night at The White Castle.� I began counting off on my
fingers. �You spent your leather jacket money on Helene Hunter�or was it Cora Candly? Or Marjorie
whatsername? Legault? And now you�re moving out? Who ya gonna get to support your sorry ass? Lana Kotero?
Juanita Johnson?�
�I�m not that bad, cheesebreath, and it�s Judi Woods now, thank you. I think I could get her to take care of
me.�
I raised my eyebrows. �Oh yeah, how?�
�I think I could promise her a certain little something-�
�Little is right, ricegraindick!�
David huffed up and his face turned red. �Not according to Judi!� I watched him stalk from the room.
Virgins have the wildest imaginations!
I should know....
Rachel O�Sullivan was a spunky little piece of sunshine with long ringlets of auburn hair that
glinted golden fire in the right light, large pale blue eyes and almost oversized lips of a naturally earthy pink color
I liked to imagine must match her nipples. She was twenty-two. I�d dropped out of high school. She wanted to
attend a decent university, but she�d confessed to me she wanted to live first, for four or five years, then return to
the drudge of school life and her aspirations of becoming a legal aide. At the time, I�d been happy to play along
with her, but never admitted I didn�t think she really stood much of a chance at it.
She�d be arriving any minute according to the old, faulty pocketwatch I carried. I stood before the mirror,
stooping a little so I could watch what I did with my amber hair in front of the boy-sized bedroom furniture I�d
lived with since I was three. Even though it was a pretty warm day, I chose my favorite grey sweater vest to pull on
over a green pinstriped pale grey shirt, then had to finger comb my mussed up hair all over again. I chuckled at my
reflection in the old, hazy mirror. I looked okay, but I was so nervous. Was I doing the right thing? Was she ready
for this? Was I? I�m not great at speeches, so I knelt again before the dresser. �Will-would...would you...won�t you?
Please just marry me!�
Frantic barking outside. Thinking she�d arrived, I sprang over to the windowsill and peered out. David
was chasing Irish with a wooden-handled scrub-brush. Water spouted from the weeds where the discarded hose
thrashed wildly. A tub quarter-filled with suds waited patiently beside the driveway. �Dumb animal!� he yelled,
laughing. �Get back here! You love water! Shit!�
�Hey-ey-ey!� I called out, pounding on the glass with my fist. �No swearing!�
My little brother sneered and waved me off as he ran past. �Damn mutt!� Beyond him, Rachel�s pea-soup
colored Edsel motored up.
�Shit!� I yelped, tearing from the bedroom. I slid into the living room on my knees and posed there
breathlessly before the front door.
She was taking forever. I heard Dave laughing. He called, �Hey, Rache!�
Her reply was much softer than his bellow. I heard the groan of the car door as it closed. Irish barking. An
airplane overhead. She was right outside the door. �Hullo there, doggie!� The knob started to turn. I panicked
momentarily, unsure if I was supposed to be on my right knee or my left.
When the door finally swung inward, I was caught before it in a squat, having entirely forgotten the trick
of kneeling at all. I was too close and the wood swung painfully into my left kneecap, causing me to pivot right on
the balls of my feet and fall over. Our golden retriever charged past Rachel, smearing her denim skirt with mud
and soap bubbles, then literally ran over me, pausing long enough to offer my cheek a huge, drippy slurp of a lick.
�Gyagh!� I grunted, trying to mop slobber from my face with a convenient sleeve as I rolled onto my back.
Dave appeared suddenly in the doorway, nearly flattening Rachel against the door with his momentum, then went
to charge after the dog and fell over me. I saw him coming at me, feet gracefully together, arms spread wide. Had
he been born with a propeller on his nose, I might be a prettier guy today. The split second before it happened, I
knew it would...my brother�s broad, flat chest loomed large in my vision. His open shirt was damp and cool on my
face before his body followed it down. My breath ceased as my face was smothered and the sound of my nose
breaking made me want to puke. Warm blood gushed from me in a thick wave, most of it forced downward into my
throat, and I choked. Before I knew it, David had scrambled off of me and was still in pursuit of the kitchen-bound
mongrel.
I swallowed, and when I could inhale, I exhaled a booming, angry, �HEY!� My voice startled me. It
sounded more like the nightmarish rumble of a demon from hell than my own gentle gravel. I rolled over and
picked myself up slowly. Dave finally noticed his crimson-stained shirt and ceased breathing. I was genuinely
afraid I was going to have to kill him.
�Alex,� soothed the lovely Miss O�Sullivan, trying to melt me with her light touch upon my arm and
chest. �Please?� She molded herself to my body from behind, still caressing my front. �Let it go. He didn�t mean
it.�
How could I resist that? The light scent of her floral perfume, the warmth of her soft body against mine. I
was like a crayon in a candle flame. �Go,� I muttered, staring at the floor between us. The vibration of my voice
tingled in my busted proboscis. �Get that damn dog out of here.� Dave turned and fled. I heard the two escape out
the back door.
Rachel snaked around me. She fitted herself to my frontside, pulled my head down with a tug to the hair
at the back of my head, then slid her mouth over mine and kissed the whole incident away. When she finally drew
back, she ran her tongue over my upper lip, tasting the blood that had run there. Eyes half-closed, she asked
huskily, �What were you doing down on the floor, Alex? Getting ready to propose?�
I swallowed thickly.
She read the look on my face and smiled and even laughed a little. �Oh, really? Then the answer is yes.�
My heart tripped staccato
(Note: the chapter ends this way with the last half of this sentence ending at the beginning of the next chapter. A bit sneaky, I know, but it makes the reader keep going and follow the whole story through.--Ed)
