My brother/My love

The room was dark, the light of the television providing a flickering glow that only half lit the place.  The volume on the TV was low enough that you could hear the storm outside.   The wind blew in heavy gusts.  Raindrops would go from a constant patter on the room to a heavy torrent.   It was about 9:00pm.

Michael and I were sprawled out on the sofa, a heavy throw draped over us.   I remember that we were watching Jurassic Park III.  It wasn’t very good but that hardly mattered.  It was a Saturday night.  Mom and Dad had gone out for the evening…some party event of some kind for Dad’s work.  They would be gone for several more hours probably.   We neither knew nor particularly cared. 

Even by this time, in my early teens I understood that our parents were different from others people’s.   Growing up there was almost no physical affection shown to either my brother or me.   Our parents didn’t hug us or kiss us.  For that matter they didn’t show much affection to one another either.  They said all the right things and I believe that they loved us.  They were just not capable of demonstrating that in some physical way.  

When I would visit friends I saw how their parents related to them.  I remember the first time a friend’s mother hugged me…I was both shocked and yet comforted.  I welcomed it from then on.     I remember watching the movie Saving Private Ryan.  There’s a scene in that movie where a young boy tastes chocolate for the first time.   You could see the reaction to experiencing something so good for the first time.  I think that was what it was like to experience physical touch.   It was electric. 

I started finding ways to make that physical connection with people.  The easiest and most obvious one was Michael.   He’s 3 years older than me and I adored him.    He was a junior in high school at this time.   Michael was no football player or sports guy.   I was more into sports than he was as I had started running cross-country track in junior high.   He was nerdy and smart.  He was on the academic decathlon team, which he seemed to enjoy though it certainly wasn’t going help him pick up girls, which I teased him about.    Mostly he spent a lot of time reading and studying.   I knew though that he loved me and would do anything for me.    He has a kind of thick skin.  Not much bothers him.  Probably not surprising when you consider what I wrote earlier about our parents and how they raised us, but that said, there was an intensity and passion to him.  It was there waiting to be triggered in the right moments.

As we watched the movie my feet had gotten cold.  We were laying at opposite ends of the sofa, our feet towards the middle, so I pressed my feet up against Michael’s back for warm.

“Holy crap Ali (short for Allison) your feet are like ice cubes!” he grumbled.  “I’m still freezing!” I complained. 

“All right..come over here and I’ll try and warm you up,”  he replied, knowing that’s what I had wanted all along.    He paused the DVD.

We shifted positions, now laying side by side me in front of him.  I pulled the throw over us and pressed my arched back up against him seeking as much physical contact as I could get.   His left arm was wrapped over my shoulder, his hand pressed against my belly which was covered by a cotton pajamas.   Michael hadn’t shaved today and I could feel the raggedy scruff of his beard against my shoulder.   We lay there and continued the movie.    I was content for the moment.

We finished the movie.  It was getting late when the credits rolled.   My eyes were feeling heavy.  I didn’t really want to move. 

“I guess that’s it,” Michael said in a soft voice.  His breath and words caressed my neck and sent a shiver of a kind down my spine.   Then he did something that truly shocked me.   

I felt his lips on the sensitive skin of my neck.  He kissed me there.  It was gentle and loving and something I’d never felt before!  I tilted my head and arched my back.  He did it again and it was as though a bolt of electricity had hit me.   It was at that moment, when I thought I couldn’t be more surprised that he proved me wrong.  His lips met mine.  It was a kiss.  It was gentle.  Not sexual (or at least I wasn’t thinking about it that way at the time!)   I think we were both confused but there was also something undeniable in that kiss.   It broke after just a couple of seconds.

“Don’t stop” I whispered, leaning back hoping to feel his lips again.   A moment later our lips were reunited.  

That night, we kissed and kissed for two hours.  About 1:00am we heard the garage opening.  Hurriedly, we shut off the TV (which had been rolling the DVD features screen all that time, though we hadn’t paid any attention) and rushed up to our separate bedrooms before our parents came inside.