Chapter 4: The Story

"I guess it all started at the beginning of Con's freshman year in high school," I began, not able to look at my brother's wife-to-be without showing the strong emotions this story dug up. It was my fault and nothing Con did back then or now would ever make me feel otherwise. Without me in the story it does not even get started, never mind end up with more than one person emotionally scarred for life, myself included. I could tell Shameera had realized she was venturing down memory lanes best left closed, but if she was ever going to understand my brother then she needed to understand how it all went down. And I knew Con would never tell her; he never spoke of it voluntarily and I doubt he even thought about it and how it affected his life. Others might, though, and I would rather she hear it firsthand from someone who knew the whole story rather than someone who would add embellishments. "I guess I need to start with the fact that in the summer between 8^th grade and 9^th grade Con shot up more than four inches and gained about fifty pounds of muscle. By the beginning of 9^th, he was over six feet tall, almost two hundred pounds and the shy boy from middle school was suddenly being drooled over by both the girls and the football coaches."

That was how I began digging up the most painful part of my life. Even more painful than my divorce or my parents' deaths. More painful because my negligence and inattention allowed it to happen to my little brother. In between sentences, I picked at the soup and salad but Shameera was riveted and merely picked at her salad after hurriedly devouring her soup with appreciative moans of ecstasy.

"The head varsity football coach pressured Con to try out and he did, making the team as starting wide receiver and almost beating out a senior for starting linebacker, a position he would take over when Billy Reilly graduated," I told her, some of my amazement from back then bleeding into my tone. I remember the shock I felt when Con told the family the news. Dad was so proud and mom was adither with worry over her baby. "The kid he beat out was junior class president, Vice President of the Student Council, starting guard on the basketball team, and all-round asshole and bully. He couldn't bully Con, though, because he was fifty pounds lighter than my brother and it was well-known that Con was not only my brother but a black belt in karate. The being my brother part was the more important thing because I was head cheerleader, senior class president and President of the Student Council.

"Now, this never might have gotten as far as it did if Con just did an adequate job on the team. But Con being Con, he wound up catching the winning touchdown in his first game, one of three that night for him." I said wryly, sighing. "I was so proud of him but he was almost embarrassed by the attention. The very next day, one of the freshmen on the cheerleading squad begged me to hook them up." Guilt welled up, threatening to spill out of my eyes. A deep breath calmed me. Or got me as calm as I was going to get.

"I probably put too much blame on myself, but she was the only one to ever lie to my face and me not spot it. I learned later that she was quietly dating the kid Con replaced on the football team the year before and they had merely been waiting for the girl's fourteenth birthday that September 29^th to come out of the closet to her friends and parents," my voice grated, angry at that little bitch still, and still angrier at myself. "They never really came out. Instead, she got me to set her up with Con."

The smile I turned on Shameera probably looked more painful than happy. "I had just started going out with a kid on the newspaper staff and the debate team. He was going to be a lawyer or a reporter, depending on whether or not he got into Columbia U. So I was a little distracted. Actually, I was neglectful. Morristown High School was a shark tank and I left my little brother to the sharks while I was sneaking off with Geoff every chance I got.

"Little Miss Benedict Arnold was one hot number. Five feet two inches of buxom blonde in 9^th grade. The kind of bod that made even the teachers watch her curvy figure slink through the halls," I said bitterly. I could still see the cat-eating-the-canary look on the bitch's face when I agreed to set her up with my little brother.

"What was her name?" Shameera asked around a bite of salad, eyes curious.

"Evelyn Rachmaninoff, if you can believe that," I laughed derisively. "Evie Rachmaninoff was some kind of distant relative of the composer; her grandparents got out of the Soviet Union during World War II. Anyway, Evie swept Con off his feet and I am positive she had his cherry by Halloween. They spent every waking moment together that they could. Con carried her books around school, the whole nine yards. I am quite sure if I hadn't been in a cloud of lust over Geoff it would have made me vomit.

"That Christmas, there was a dance on the last day of school for the year. The Student Council, meaning me, had made a pest of ourselves until the administration caved," I said wickedly, still proud of myself for getting that accomplished, despite everything else. MHS hadn't had a Christmas Dance before that year and they never had one after our class. "We decorated the gym with buntings and wreathes and a Christmas tree with lights in each corner. Paper snowflakes hung everywhere. It was gorgeous and well worth the hours of prep it took. I got a stunning pink and white sleeveless, backless gown for it. I was beautiful. Con rented a tux and was handsome. He left in a friend of Evie's Cadillac to pick up Evie and the friend's date, leaving me waiting for Geoff.