Chapter 1

“You’re a hard man to find, you know?” I heard behind me, turning around to see her there.

My little sister, Stephanie. The only part of my growing up that I remembered fondly. The only person growing up, including our parents, who didn’t treat me like dog shit. Suffice it to say that my overall first impression of the much vaunted traditional, nuclear family was that it was Hell on Earth. My parents never divorced. They never separated. I often wished that they had. They were the poster child for toxic marriage. The only things that they seemed to really have in common were a love for Jesus, a belief that the Sun rose and shone out of Stephanie’s ass, and a complete, inexplicable hatred for me.

Ironically, Stephanie herself was so nice to me that I could never resent her for it. She saw what Mom and Dad refused to see in me and simply couldn’t make sense of how much they loathed me. She got double my allowance, so she shared some of it with me or spent it on me at times.

Steph hired my first hooker to rid me of my virginity. She got me one or two extra Christmas presents that she never told Mom and Dad about, for fear that they would confiscate them. She was allowed a TV in her room, whereas I wasn’t, so she let me watch hers at times. Things like that made my adolescence and childhood much more bearable until I left.

Steph was there for me when I was forcibly circumcised to discourage masturbation. She even called child services on them, only to have the case worker reject the notion that such practices were abuse. My parents’ warmth for her cooled a bit for a while after that. She lost some of her golden child status for at least a month or two.

Steph was certainly grounded for that long. That must have been as much of a shock to her as it was to me, but she never backed down or apologized for what she did. Mom and Dad ended up just having to lump it. She drew a line in the sand, even at the risk of losing her favorite child status, when it came to a medically unnecessary and highly risky operation like that.

“Steph!” my first response was to pull her into my arms and hug her very tight.

“Cain!” Steph exclaimed as she held onto me for dear life.

Yes, Mom and Dad were that cruel. For whatever reason, they named me after the mythical first murderer, that Cain who slew his brother Abel (I still think that it was at worst manslaughter). Steph’s way of handling that was with irreverent humor that sometimes tested Mom and Dad’s great affection and partiality for her. They were very aware, and frustrated by her, her fondness for her big brother. Even so, they were loath on most occasions to risk their bond with her (as they saw it) just to punish her for it (with the said notable exception regarding the authorities).

“So, what brings you here to Boston, of all places? Even in summer, it’s not always the most pleasant place to be,” I teasingly scolded my kid sister in the way of an elder brother.

“You, of course. And I don’t know, I like the Old World, colonial charm. Imagine how busy these streets were back when the Sons of Liberty openly defied King George III and the first stirrings of the American Revolution began? I kinda understand them better myself than I used to, having had to live under the thumb of our tyrants, Mom and Dad. I’d send them a postcard from Boston, but I don’t have a forwarding address for Hell,” Steph, in her quest for wickedly funny jokes, suddenly realized what bombshell she dropped so casually on me.

“They’re ... dead? Both of them? I thought that they might be vampires and live forever. They certainly sucked everything good out of other people’s lives, leaving them with nothing but misery and gin, with apologies to Merle Haggard,” I scoffed, getting a somewhat sadder and more tense look from Steph.

“Yeah, well, thank Dad’s late-night driving for that. He fell asleep at the wheel and they crashed into a propane truck. There were no survivors, including the truck driver. I was lucky enough to have the flu, or so I told them, and beg out of the missionary conference, revival thing. This time, it saved my life, even though part of me feared that they might catch onto my waning fervor for Christ. My lukewarmness as a Christian seems to have paid dividends. Did you know that Mom and Dad were worth three-quarters of a million dollars? Guess who inherited it all in the will?” Steph pointed to herself with a grin.

“Congratulations, sis. Now you can pay off your student loans early, am I right, and switch colleges more easily. Bible College has to be a fucking drag! Or hell, you could even drop out of school altogether, and move closer to me. If you can handle the New England winters, that is. It’s not nice and hot like Shreveport, Louisiana, is it? Hell, you could live on Nantucket, catch the ferry, and visit me now and then,” I half-teased, half-invited Steph to live closer to me, not wishing to mooch off her newfound wealth.

“Oh, I’m definitely moving, bro, and not just near you. I want you ... to live with me. I’ve already purchased a very fine townhouse not far from here and I would be so damn lonely without my loving brother around. I’ve missed you so damn much, thanks to Mom and Dad driving you away. You know, as soon as you left, Dad turned to Mom and told her, ‘good, now he can go on back to Hell and leave us alone.’

“The ‘back to Hell’ part rankled with me and even confused me, as did that knowing look of full accord on Mom’s face. I did some digging and found their private journals and such, Mom’s diary, that kind of thing. They ... thought that you were the Antichrist, all because you had a birthmark that they thought was the mark of Cain. They named you that to remind themselves not to go easy on you.

“After all, you were destined for the Lake of Fire for eternity, anyway, according to their beliefs. That’s why they never tried to ‘save your soul’ as they did with me. They wrote you off and even wrote down their fears that you would murder them or me in our sleep. They honestly thought that there was a demon inside you or in control of you. Crazy bitches!” Steph rolled her eyes at our parents’ silly superstitious piety.

“I guess that they forgot Proverbs 11:29, didn’t they, sis?” I smirked at the cognitive dissonance and ignorance of many evangelical Christians like Mom and Dad about their own Bible.

“He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind: and the fool shall be servant to the wise of heart,” Steph acknowledged ... she had been on the Bible quiz team at Shreveport First Assembly of God.

“That would be the one. Ironically, for the Antichrist, I seem to know Scripture better than Mom and Dad did. So ... you want me to move in with you? Good timing, actually. I might be proud and tempted to decline out of that pride, but with Nancy leaving me, I can’t make rent on my place, anyway. I wasn’t sure what I would do about that. Move into a studio or a motel room, I guess.

“I swear that’s the last time that I’m even gonna try to be monogamous! It’s nothing but grief, frustration, and worse! And then she has the gall to admit that while she’s leaving me for cheating on her, she’s been cheating on me for months! Months! Fuck dating! Fuck monogamy! Fuck relationships! Fucking cunt hypocrites!” I groused now, causing Steph to giggle at first and then pull me closer for a very not so sisterly kiss.

“That’s because you’ve been trying to be that good boy, deep down, on some level, in spite of your defiance and your lustful ways, which I adore, by the way. But some subconscious part of you is still trying to win Mom and Dad’s love, bro, and I’m here to tell ya, it will never happen. They hated you until their dying day. They left everything to me! Grrr ... fucking hypocrites!

“So fucking let it go, bro, be the proud horndog that you were born to be. Just tell yourself that you’re the Antichrist as they believed, even though we both know that you’re not. It will psychologically set you free of their baggage to be your true self, a horny devil, because if you’re already on the highway to Hell, you might as well enjoy the ride.

“Move in with me and take a lover that will understand you. They’re out there, you know. Men and women who would get you. They might be hard to find, but that’s okay, because yours is closer than you think,” Steph urged me to embrace the devil inside me.

“Where?” I asked her.

“Right fucking under your nose,” Steph told me as she planted another searing kiss on me.

I stood there in total shock before I offered her a hit of my joint.

“To paraphrase Doug Stone, one of the most underrated singers in country music history, ‘Come in out of the pain. Let me dry your tears. She’s been gone for days and I’ve loved you for years. Lay down in my arms, there ain’t no shame. Don’t just stand there, boy. Come in out of the pain.’

“Don’t you get it, bro? I’m in love with you, not just as sister, but as ... a woman, who’s already found her Mr. Right, because she grew up with him and he’s always been there since before I was born. Everything that I have is yours. In fact, I wired you half of the inheritance to your bank account. Your new bank account that Nancy doesn’t know about and neither does anyone else.

“I’m in love with you, I’ll happily love you for who you are, which I’ve always known you to be, an old soul who is just right for a free spirit like me. You don’t have to hide your wandering eyes and horndog ways with me, okay, babe?” Steph assured me as she smoked a good hit off my joint.

“So ... you’d look the other way while I cheated on you? You’d ... commit incest with me? What’s next, threesomes? Bondage? Swinging? Orgies? Would you go down on a girl or pull a train for me? I won’t object to any of these, but I just want to gauge how serious you are about this kind of thing? I mean, yes, if you know about it, it’s not cheating per se, but will your subconscious see it that way if I do it out of sight, out of mind? I’ve never ... imagined that ... well, okay, I had fantasies, but I never expected... , “ I started to ramble when Stephanie hushed me with one hell of a steamy French kiss.

“Cain, honey ... bro ... I adore you, and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you. Well, except for scat, bestiality, and any pedo stuff. There I’d have to pull a Meatloaf on you, and say, ‘I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that.’ Thankfully, I don’t imagine that you’d ever do any of those things or ask them of me. Check your new bank account balance, honey. Looky here! Three hundred k, all for my bro!

“Thanks for the weed hit, by the way. I love that I can score some great pot off my own bro, my boyfriend, my lover. We can never legally marry, but it doesn’t matter. We already have the same surname, after all. And the lack of a wedding band or cheater’s mark will make it easier for you to get some side chicks, flings, one-night-stands, etc.

“Without having to hire hookers again. I should have saved the money and fucked you myself, you could have it bareback that way, but I was too afraid of Mom and Dad for that,” Steph winked at that as she basically reminded me of that incident.

“What did you do with the rubber?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Squeezed the cum out and swallowed the whole load, tossed the condom, right in front of the hooker,” Steph told me, completely deadpan and serious, “she visibly gagged when she saw that, but she also snickered and told me, ‘girlfriend, do yourself a favor and fuck the poor bastard, even if he is your brother. You’re clearly in love with him and you’re the best thing that ever happened to him in his obviously miserable life.’ Those were her words, I’m not kidding.”

“Wow ... just wow! Well, in that case, let me take you out to lunch with my newfound riches paying the way this time. No protests! I only have the one sister in this world and she means everything to me, especially now. Let me be good to you for a change, not just by sharing my weed,” I insisted, thinking of just the place, “you don’t mind pub food, do you?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never had a lick of booze until very recently! I’ve wanted to try pub food for years! More to the point, I really want to drink some beer at last! Can we go to a place near our new home, so we can walk home instead of worrying about DUIs?” Steph gave me a very adorable pout as she asked me that.

“See now, that pout is dangerous. It tends to make me really want to ... do things ... for you ... and with you. Pamper and spoil my baby sister, sure, but also spank her bottom red. I wonder if it’s as pale as it used to be, but I have a feeling that I’m about to find out. First, let’s get to your place, move my most essential stuff out.

“That should send a message in case Nancy has any second thoughts about the break-up. It’s out of her hands now. She is no longer in the driver’s seat. Speaking of which, I need to get this van of mine to your place for now. It was gonna be my new home if I didn’t find any other options, mind you. I would have been just like Matt Foley,” I laughed at my own expense.

“I am thirty-four years old, I am divorced, and I live in a van down by the river!” Steph snickered as she quoted the classic Chris Farley skit from Saturday Night Live with me.

“I used to love sneaking around to watch SNL, mostly because I knew that Mom and Dad hated it, you know,” I chuckled as we got some of my basic stuff moved into the van and she followed me in her BMW (yes, my little sister had a BMW!).