Chapter 4

I don't remember returning to bed that night, but I woke on my back, naked with no covers. My daughter's pleasant moans rang in my ears as I tried rouse myself. It took me many minutes and a few idle strokes of my fingers between my legs to force my body from the bed and into my robe.

Kira was still in her bedroom, so I crept down and made coffee. Before I'd finished my cup, she joined me at the table, eyes averted.

"Kira..." I said, trying to remember what I'd planned to say to her the night before. "I'm sorry ... I shouldn't have done that..."

She shrugged, "it happens..."

"Well ... it shouldn't have ... not where you would see it. I'm sorry."

"Fine, Mom. It's fine."

An uncomfortable silence followed and I tried to fill it with idle conversation. "Any plans today?" Her brother was going to stay at Donnie's until Sunday. I flashed to what my hallucination had said, that Donnie and my son were fooling around with hands and blowjobs. It was only with effort I stopped from sliding into that fantasy.

Kira responded, which helped. "Nah ... maybe I'll just read today. Not feeling great."

"Are you sick?"

She shook her head, finally looking at me briefly, "no, just ... weirded out..."

I felt shame. "Sorry..."

"No, it's ... it's not that ... just ... you know ... everything..."

I knew she was referring to the earlier incidents and admissions, and I tried to ease her thoughts. "That's behind us, Kira ... don't worry about it ... really."

"Have you talked to Dex yet?"

"No..."

"Will you?"

"I ... I should, yes."

"Do you think it's sick? That ... that he and I like to play games with my panties?"

I paused before speaking. I chose not to lie. "No ... it's not sick ... Maybe it's not ... normal ... but, no, it's okay..."

"He let me see him getting dressed yesterday..." Kira said softly.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. This is ... difficult to deal with, Kira ... really, really difficult."

Kira was quiet a moment, then said, "you didn't have a brother ... or a sister ... you wouldn't understand."

"I--" It was a race to see whether a lie or the truth would come out first. I honestly wasn't sure which I would tell. "I had a sister..."

"What?!" Kira burst out, "you always said you were an only child..."

"I know ... I'm sorry ... I had a ... sister..."

"A sister? Mom! Why didn't you tell me? Where is she?"

My lip trembled as I tried not to show my sadness. "She's dead."

"Oh," Kira leaned over and touched my arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"She died when I was sixteen ... I'd ... I'd tried to forget about her ... it hurt ... too much..." Tears were forming in my eyes and I stopped trying to control them. It came back in a rush what had happened, and even as I couldn't describe it to my daughter, the memories flooded back and left me sobbing and inconsolable.

"I'll be there in an hour!" Jackie told me over the phone. "Just had to stop and pee!"

I laughed and told her how excited I was that she was coming home for the weekend. I'd not expected to see her before Thanksgiving, but she'd begged a ride from a college friend and was coming in for a couple of nights. I'd pleaded with her to come, that I really wanted to see her and talk to her in person. I missed those long nights talking about our feelings and our lives, I missed being able to share everything with Jackie, including my body.

I'd started to date Niles, and though I had meant what I said about being faithful to him, I knew that once Jackie was home, I'd want to make love with her like we had so often since I was fourteen. She'd dropped hints that she was more than willing and wanted to be with me as much as I wanted her.

I hung up the phone and cleaned up my room, giddy with excitement. I showered and put on clean panties after carefully trimming my pubes. My mom had finally allowed me to get a razor when the hair on my legs reached some arbitrary point where it was no longer conservatively feminine to appear that way. Naturally, I'd learned quickly how to trim my cunt and leave a well-groomed frame around my maturing vulva.

I put on a bra and slipped into a shirt I knew she loved, then put on leggings which I thought made my butt look hot. My mom hated it, but she'd stopped fighting against me when it was obvious I was just going to wear what I wished. I dabbed on perfume and put on lipstick and eyeliner. I wanted my sister to see me as beautiful as I could be, and I felt full of confidence as I blew myself a kiss in the mirror.

I tied my hair in braids, two down over each shoulder, my auburn locks long enough to reach my mid-back when not bound or braided. I touched my clit a moment just to remind myself what fun I'd be having once Jackie was home.

She didn't arrive in the promised hour and I fretted, restless, eager for her to come home. Another hour passed, then another. My mom and dad began to grow concerned, and I rode with my father in the direction from which Jackie should have been arriving. We went all the way to the store she'd been at when she called me. We saw no sign of her nor of the yellow sedan which was her ride.

We drove back to the house and found my mom in tears.

"Oh! Oh!" she was hysterical, shaking on her feet, her face red and puffy.

My father rushed ahead of me and took her in his arms. "What is it?!" he exclaimed.

"It's Jacqueline ... she's was ... in an accident!" My mom cried harder.

I felt sick and started screaming, "Jackie!? What happened to Jackie!"

Mom leapt to where I stood, my own tears forming quickly. "Oh, Penelope ... Oh ... Oh!" She held me tight against her, trembling, her tears wetting my neck.

"Is she alright? Mom!?"

She sobbed against me a moment, then said with great sadness, "no ... no ... she didn't make it ... oh, Penelope!"

It didn't really sink in then. I knew tremendous loss and anguish in slow motion. I felt like I was out of my own body, watching myself cry, watching myself give in to the grief. I saw myself from a distance, the warmth of my mother's embrace around someone else's body. I could see my father crying, eyes red and filled with tears as he wrapped his arms around us.

Even as I felt the sadness, I stood apart from it, not allowing myself to believe it true, not letting myself accept that my mother was telling the truth. "No!" I screamed. "No! She's not dead! No!"

"Oh, Penelope ... I'm so, so sorry..." Mom cried into my neck. "I'm so sorry..."

"No!" I screamed that word over and over until my throat had become too thick to speak. My eyes were on fire, my body thick, my mind heavy, and I felt utterly lost, not myself.

We went to the hospital where she'd been taken a while later, all of us still crying. I was a zombie following blindly, shadowing my parents as they talked quietly to a doctor, then shuffling without thought along as we went to the morgue. My mom made me wait outside and I was more distraught at being left alone. A nurse tried to console me, but it took two orderlies to restrain me when I rushed for the door to see my sister.

I found out later that her body had been mangled and broken. I suppose I'm glad not to have seen my beautiful sister that way. But in those days and weeks which followed, I couldn't help feeling a distinct loss at not saying goodbye, and I blamed myself for being the one to talk Jackie into trying to visit that weekend. It had been my pleading, my selfish need to see her again, which had led her to beg favors of her friends, finally getting a ride home to be with me.

I cried with my head on my arms on the dining room table. I was aware that Kira stood next to me, holding my shoulders, softly stroking my arms. "Oh, Mom ... I'm sorry..."

I had compartmentalized my memories of Jackie. It wasn't that I planned it. Thoughts of my sister were torn from me, everything about Jackie which reminded me of her loss wrapped tightly and buried. I think I was defending myself, refusing to deal with the grief. The more time passed, the less often I felt the memories trying to surface, to the point where I'd grown an opaque shell around those memories. My sister had been lost in my past. I forgot what we did, forgot how she'd taught me about myself and about intimacy. I hid from myself the fact that she'd even existed.

"No," I finally managed to squeak. "I'm sorry ... I ... I forgot about her ... I didn't want to remember anything after she was gone ... I never talked about her because ... I'd let those memories go. I locked them away. I loved her so much, Kira ... I loved Jackie..."

Kira was quiet a moment. "Jackie ... like ... Jacqueline?"

"Yes..." I whispered.

"From the letter..."

"Yes..."

"I thought ... she was your girlfriend..."

"She was," I admitted between sobs, "she was my everything..."

More quiet followed as I cried. I could feel Kira trembling beside me and became aware that she was also crying. I managed to slide an arm around her waist and held her against me.

"So," she said gently, "you do understand..."

"Yes..."

"I love you, Mom ... I'm sorry I asked about her..."

"No, Kira, no. No, I ... I needed to remember. I needed to think about her again. She's been lost to me for so long..."