Chapter 7

I was surprised by the knock at my door. It sounded while I wrestled with my pajamas. All I wanted was to sleep. My head leapt to the conclusion that mother had chased me, still bent on throwing me out. I briefly wondered if I deserved such a fate. Then I hear Lynn ask through the door.

"Hey butt-head, what the hell's going on?"

"Nothing. Just go back to bed."

"Don't tell me nothing. I woke up and mother was yelling. She's locked her door and isn't talking. Are you in trouble?" Lynn fumbled with my doorknob and let herself in.

"Go away, sis. I don't have an answer for you."

"Did you do something to her?" Lynn stepped close with a dark look on her face.

"Lynn, I really don't want to talk about it." I was angry now. My best fantasy had ended in breaking my heart, and my weird power was proving to be more dangerous than I could have imagined. I wanted to escape it all, but here was my young sister, trying to drill a confession out of me.

"Hmmph!" She punched me, not too hard. I slapped her right in the face.

"Shut up!"

She jumped like lightning struck her. I had never hit her before. She looked like she was about to cry, and then she turned and ran out of the room.

I had to shut the door behind her. I fell on my bed and curled up in my blankets. My mind was so confused. I could have lain away all night, but I was exhausted, mentally, physically, and sexually.

I dreamed of waking up, in the middle of the night, peeking out from beneath the covers. A large shadow stood at my bedside, looking down. It receded, like a mist and flowed out the open door.

My door was still open when I woke to sunlight. I lay in bed, dreading to get up. The LCD clock on my dresser ticked silently. Minutes flowed like hours. I listened. The house was quiet. It was a Tuesday. Lynn and Shell should have left for school by now, and I should have too. My mother might be anywhere, out shopping, cleaning downstairs, signing me up for military school. I wondered where Rodney had been all night. Then I remembered my dream. I shivered.

Eventually, my body woke up to the day, against my mind's wishes. I had to pee, and I smelled. I imagined green fur growing between my teeth. My breath could have cut a swath through a jungle. The only thing I didn't feel was a hard-on, for the first time in years. All these exaggerations reminded me that I was a creature of habit. Except for the pee. I wasn't imagining that. I slipped out of bed and cautiously approached the upstairs bathroom. All was clear.

Thus my day began, toilet led to shower, led to my toothbrush, led to gargling salt water. Thank God, I didn't have to shave yet. I wrapped a towel around my midsection and walked casually back to my room.

Rodney was sitting on my bed. He didn't look like he had washed yet or even slept. "We have to talk." He stated.

I tried to remember my promise to grow up. "I have to dress." I told him.

"Just tell me one thing."

"What?" A certain fear returned to me. His hateful mask of yesterday hung between us.

"What did you do to mother last night?"

"That's none of your business." I forced myself to say. What I really wanted was to hug my brother, like I used to when I couldn't be strong.

He stood up, and I backed away. "Tell me!" I saw his fist clench. "Lynn said that she was yelling and groaning, and you were with her. She heard you shouting too. What did you do?" My brother followed me.

"Rodney, please calm down." I stepped backwards, out into the hall. He advanced.

"You-you, DEVIL!" He punched the door.

Footsteps pounding up the stairs interrupted us. "Stop it! Stop it!" Mother rushed to intervene.

"Mother, if he hurt you or made you..."

"Rodney, get away from him." Mother had to catch her breath, but she stared her oldest son down. Rodney continued to glare at me. He took a step away, between mother and myself.

"Rodney, we're a family, and we have to help each other."

"He didn't help you, last night, did he?" My brother now glared at her. But mother wasn't a weak woman. She hadn't raised four children by herself by taking any guff from them. Even last night, when she couldn't resist my power, she never gave in. She had considered many things since then.

"No, he didn't." Mother looked at me, and I felt shame. "I helped him." She continued. "He told you about his problem."

"He humiliated me at the Palnasus'. Wendy..."

"He didn't believe me. I had to show, him, but things got out of control. Rodney, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"It's too late." Rodney spat.

"Quiet." Mother spoke evenly to her oldest. "Rodney, he went to you first. He wanted you to help him. He was afraid, and you rejected him."

"Yeah, if you hadn't got all angry maybe I wouldn't have gone home." I said without thinking.

"Hush up!" I was scolded firmly. "Jules, go to your bedroom, now!" Mother ordered.

I must have had just enough pout as I slunk back into my room. She gave me a threatening look. I closed my door and put my ear against it.

"Mother, he can hear every word." Rodney started.

"Listen to me, Rodney. We're in real trouble. This isn't a joke. We have to find a solution."

"So you're going to just keep fucking him?" My bother accused her.

The loudest smack I ever heard cracked through the thin, plywood.

"How dare you, Rodney!" She tried to recover her cool.

"Mom, he's dangerous. I know it."

"He's your brother and just a young boy. He's has to understand what he's done wrong. He has to learn to control himself. I need you, Rod, to help me and him."

"B-but he raped you mother!"

"It wasn't like that." Mother's voice stumbled.

"He put his filthy hands on you and forced you." Rodney wasn't listening to what our mother said to the contrary. Rape is wrong, and he knew it. He refused to accept any middle ground.

"Honey, let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. Either he raped you, or... are you just a whore, mother?" Rodney shouted.

I expected a sound like thunder to follow, but mother didn't hit him again. I wasn't sure what I heard. I think it was a sniffle.

"Please, son. We have to..." "We have to do something before he attacks Lynn or maybe Shell. What will you say then? He's a monster, mother."

"NO!" Mom shouted back. "He's just a child."

"Children don't rape their mothers." Then I heard loud footfalls. They faded down the stairs.

"Listen to me." Mother called after him.

The next thing I heard was myself, sobbing. I slumped to the floor and my head fell against the door. Mother must have heard.

"Jules, honey, it'll be all right." She walked away, following Rodney.

I spent the rest of the morning in my room. Only hunger drove me to the kitchen. Mother wasn't around. I saw Rodney hacking out the weeds in our back yard. It looked like he wasn't being too picky about what was a weed and what wasn't.

I poured myself a glass of milk and grabbed a cold tub of leftover okra. I didn't care what I ate. I quickly exited to the living room. I thought I might watch some television, but instead I slunk into the couch when I heard the back door open. Rodney found me as quickly as if he had me on radar.

"Julius, I'm not going to forgive you, even if mother does. If I hear so much as a giggle from any of the girls, with you near them, I'll beat you with the television set." He said, and then he walked away, whistling.

I managed to turn on the TV, but I didn't watch it. I ate the okra, drank the milk, and stared at the grains of snow dotting whatever show was running. The doorbell rang, days or seconds later. I didn't know which. I got up and answered the front door.

It was Wendy.

"Hi twerp, is the man of the house around?" She snickered.

I didn't know what to say. I nodded and let her in. She didn't appear the least afraid.

"Probably in his room, whacking off, eh?" Wendy commented as she walked past me towards the stairs. I was dumbfounded, not by her attitude, but at her clothes. I'd never seen her dressed the way she was. Wendy was dolled up like a prostitute. She wore large dangling earrings, a black curly rug for a coat covering a gold lamay top that stretched across her breasts and left their size unarguably defined. Below, she walked in incredibly short jeans and fishnet stockings. Only her phat sneakers and rumpled leg warmers spoke of the teenager I use to know. Wendy had painted her face for war. I'd never seen her wear makeup before, except for Halloween. Today was the first time she frightened me.