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CHAPTER – 18: Two Sisters
When I woke up the next morning, I felt rested. It was sometime around early to mid morning, and I was on my side, with Sarah spooning behind me, her soft breath warming my back. She was sound asleep. As usual, after all the drinks last night, I needed a pit stop. That was going to be a problem, because I was sporting a morning woody, which surprised me after all the activity of last night. I had had a good night’s sleep and was fully awake, feeling very much relaxed, and wanted to start the day. Because of the early hours I woke up on the rig-site, it took me a few days before my body adapted to the vacation mode. I must have been tired from all the activity and the alcohol I had consumed to sleep this late. I decided to get up, put on some coffee, and prepare something light to eat. I was in a domestic mood, wanting to pamper Sarah. I took the tray with the glasses and the bottles of water, and headed to the kitchen.
Passing the living room, I turned up the thermostat to warm the flat. In the kitchen I put the bottles of water in the fridge and set the coffee maker on. While the coffee was perking, I did my morning ablutions, with a quick shower in the bathroom. A half hour later I was back in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around me. The flat was still a bit cold, but warming up fast. Rummaging in the fridge, I checked what Sarah had that I could use to prepare something light. She had some fruit, which I could use to prepare a fruit salad, but I was looking for something salty, like cheese. Finally, tucked in a corner I located feta cheese, and... surprise, surprise... a box of olives; not the green cocktail olives, but black olives.
Black olives. A girl after my heart. She’s a true child of the Mediterranean.
Taking stock of my finds I decided to prepare a fruit salad using apples, mandarins, oranges, and of all things, bergamot (another surprising find, which confirmed my suspicions that she was really a child of the Mediterranean). Because bergamot was a bitter fruit (almost like grapefruit, with a great aroma), I decided to use a few slices of it to give flavor and aroma to the whole concoction. I cut off a small chunk and peeled it. I also cleaned a few apples, oranges and mandarins, chopped everything into small pieces and mixed the whole lot in a big bowl. It was quite bitter so, to sweeten the mix, I sliced two bananas, put a dollop of honey on them, and mixed them in. I liked the taste, sweet and sour with a bitter bite that lingered, and juicy at the same time. I wondered whether Sarah’s taste buds would agree with mine, because it was a unique and unorthodox mixture.
Well, she can put the bergamot pieces aside. The rest still tastes great.
Getting myself a cup of coffee, I started on the toast. When it was ready, I buttered the slices, distributed them between two plates, and added cheese and olives on the side. Getting two small bowls from the cupboard, I filled them with the fruit salad. The last item was cups of coffee. Putting everything on a tray, I took it to her bedroom.
When I placed the tray on the nightstand, she was awakening. Leaning over, I kissed her to wake her up. She stretched, then ran her hand through her hair and grimaced. Her hair was tousled, well, more than tousled, but she looked beautiful. I never understood the female obsession with how they looked in the morning. Maybe some of them had cause for concern, but Sarah definitely didn’t belong in that group. Sure, she looked sleepy, her hair was messed up, but she also had a rested, relaxed look, with a beautiful glow to her skin.
When she sat up, I said, “Good morning, beautiful. Breakfast is served.”
“Beautiful? I must look like a scarecrow, Mitch. Get your eyes checked.”
“Ahh! Already fishing for compliments, I see.”
That quip got a smile, and woke her up completely.
“Coffee?”
“Mmm hmm.”
After a few sips of her coffee she said, “A good morning to you too. What a way to wake up.”
“Part of the service, Ma’am,” I retorted, with a grin.
“I’m not going to ask what service that is,” she replied, flashing me an amused smile. “What’s on the menu?”
“A fruit salad, and toast with cheese and olives.”
“Sounds good.”
After she finished her cup, she took her fruit salad. Giving it a sniff, she gave me a look, questioning.
“You’ll not be poisoned. I can guarantee that,” I said, digging into my own bowl of fruit salad.
She took a spoonful, doing a taste test, and finding it satisfactory, she started to eat. When she was finished, she asked, “Did you use the bergamot?”
“A small chunk. Why?”
“I thought I tasted it. Interesting choice. I liked what you did with it. I hope there’s enough bergamot left.”
“You were going to use it for something else?”
“No, it was for your sister. She’s going to make orange jam, but she needs the bergamot to give it a bite. Makes it taste less sweet. Last year she gave me a jar of it, and it was delicious, so I thought I would get her the bergamot and get another jar of her orange jam.”
“Oh, I didn’t know she did that. That’s Mom’s recipe. She knows I don’t eat jam, because it’s too sweet for my taste, even though she uses very little sugar. When she discovered the bergamot, she came up with that recipe, and it was great. I think the only sweet thing I can eat at breakfast is honey.”
“Me, too. I can eat honey, but not any of the jams, especially from the supermarkets. Too sweet and not enough fruit. Maybe I should take the bergamot to your mom,” she replied with a smile.
“Sure, if you have a death wish.”
“Your mom still teases Kathy about her cooking?”
I nodded. “They’re on each other’s case whenever one of them comes up with something new.”
“Kathy is a very good cook.”
“That maybe so, but she learned it all from Mom.”
“You’re prejudiced.”
“I won’t deny that. But then, I’m a better cook than Kathy.”
“I remember. You used to spend hours in the kitchen with your mom. I always thought how strange to see you there, instead of Kathy. What got you interested in cooking?”
“Self preservation,” I quipped, making her laugh.
“Come on, be serious,” she responded, when she caught her breath.
“I liked Mom’s cooking, and I didn’t want to rely on a second hand imitation of her cooking from somebody less skilled. So, I decided to learn. It’s a pretty relaxing activity; as long as you don’t have to do it every day.”
“Yeah. If you have to cook every day, it turns into a chore.”
While we were chatting, she was finishing her toast with the cheese and olives. Seeing me watch her eat, she raised an eyebrow.
“I’m curious. You seem to like olives, for breakfast. I don’t know any people that do that.”
“I like them, but mostly in a salad. Same with the feta. I don’t mind them for breakfast. Next time, try a bit of oregano on feta, it tastes much better. You know, my grandpa is from the islands. He uses oregano, olive oil and lemon twist on the olives. I guess I got used to olives and feta from him, when I was very young.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. So, you’re a child of the Mediterranean.”
She laughed. “Kind of. I wasn’t even born along the coast. But it’s in the blood.”
“Hmmm... Talking about blood... Is that why you’re so hot blooded?”
“Maybe,” she replied, letting out another soft laughter. “No, not really. It depends on the person and how much they turn me on. With you there was pent up lust and hunger as well. I’ve never been like that before.”
She ran her hand through her hair, and then her nostrils flared as if she got a whiff of something. She bent her head sniffing, trying to find if she smelled, then grimaced. “God, I look like a scarecrow, and I smell like a brothel. I need a shower.”
“Sarah, you look beautiful, and you smell like you, as the room does.”
She colored, even though I wasn’t trying to embarrass her.
“Baby, come on. If you bottle and sell it as air freshener, I’m going to get a dozen.”
“Uhh. Please. Don’t remind me,” she replied softly, still feeling a bit embarrassed.
“How were you with history lessons?” I asked, throwing a non sequitur.
As I expected, she gave me a confused look, before replying. “Not very good. I hated the stuff. All those battles and dates and stupid names.”
“Heh... You missed out on the fun stuff. It’s not all boring stuff. There were always colorful characters and colorful incidents, little anecdotes.”
“Like what?”
“Take Napoleon for example. There’s a story about him sending a messenger from the battle field to Josephine, about his return home.”
“So?”
“Well, he still had to travel a week before he’d arrive at Paris. The message said: ‘Don’t wash up until I arrive’. There was a man who knew what he liked,” I quipped, giving her a lecherous grin.
Sarah crinkled her nose. “Ugghh. I should have known something like that was coming. You men are beasts.” Then with a smile, she asked, “I never read that in any of the history books. You sure you’re not making it up?”
“That’s the kind of thing they seem to forget to include in the history books. At least, the ones they use in the classrooms. I wonder when they’ll wake up and realize they would get the students more enthusiastic about history if they included the juicy bits.”
“God, you’re such a perv, Mitch. When did that happen?”
“Well... There was this blonde girl I met. Hot and juicy and—”
“You rat! Don’t put the blame on me,” she retorted indignantly, but her eyes were smiling.
“OK. But I wasn’t putting anything on you. In you... that’s something else,” I quipped.
She started to laugh. “My, my, my. You must be a morning person. Already getting frisky?”
“I can wait. How about you?” I replied, with a snort.
“Oh, I love a morning quickie, but I really want to take a quick shower.”
That little exchange was already getting to her; her skin was flushed with excitement.
“Sarah, you don’t have to on my account. I told you, you look beautiful and I love your smell. You are not smelly. It’s you, all of you, and I love all of that when it touches my senses,” I said, with a more serious tone.
“OK, stud. Give me a kiss and help me out of bed.”
Putting my cup on the tray, I collected her plate and cup, and put them on the tray. Then I sat by her side, and pulled her in for a kiss. After the kiss, I didn’t release her, but started to kiss her neck, inhaling her womanly smell. She felt what I was doing, and tried to wiggle out from my embrace, but I had her secured in my arms. There was no way she could break free, even with her strength, and her struggles started to work against her, as her tits rubbed on my chest, getting her nipples hard. I was pretty sure she would be starting to leak around her pussy in a while. When she realized she couldn’t escape, she ceased her struggles, and I released her, giving her a long kiss. After the kiss, I nuzzled her neck, inhaling her smell again, and this time, she sighed softly, accepting and enjoying my attention. When I looked up, her eyes were soft.
“You make me feel so good and wet, Mitch,” she said, before kissing me hungrily again.
Breaking the kiss, I trailed my tongue down her neck to her collarbone, and all the way between her tits, inhaling her. She clutched my head, cooing her appreciation. When I looked up, her eyes were getting that strange hue they had when she was aroused. I didn’t know if she wanted to have a quickie now, because she had asked me to help her out of the bed, so I ceased my teasing to let her make up her mind.
When she felt me stop, she smiled. “Mitch, I want a morning quickie, but I really want to go to the bathroom and have another cup of coffee.”
“OK. I’ll start a fresh batch of coffee.”
“It’s warm here. Did you turn up the thermostat?”
“Yep. I didn’t want to bother with clothes.”
“Good. I’ll join you in the kitchen.”
She went to the bathroom, and I collected the tray and took it to the kitchen. Filling my cup with the remaining coffee, I prepared a new batch. As I was taking a seat, she came in and headed straight for me. She pulled my towel off, draping it at the back of the chair. When I sat down, she straddled me and plastered herself against my chest, resting her head on my shoulder. I realized she hadn’t taken a shower or cleaned her self; just washed her face and brushed her teeth. I wrapped my arms around her, running my hands along her spine, making her shiver with my soft touches. I loved how responsive she was.
“The coffee will be ready in another ten minutes. You want a sip from my cup?” I asked.
“I’ll wait. I like this more than coffee.”
While we waited for the coffee, we kept teasing each other, kissing, touching. She was already juicing up, and I felt my cock getting wet. Her nipples were hard, digging into my chest. A few minutes later, she rose up, guided my hard cock into her pussy, and sat down slowly. Somehow, she felt hotter than last night. She started a slow rocking motion, teasing both of us, stoking the fires slowly. And then the percolator gurgled, announcing that the coffee was ready.
“Are you still hungry?” I quipped.
Getting my joke, she laughed. “You’re such a clown, Mitch. The things you say.” Then she added, “Yes, I’m hungry. Hungry for your cock. The coffee can wait. I want to have some fresh cream with it.”
With that quip, she stood up. Picking up my cup from the table, she put it on the counter, emptying the table. Turning her back to me, she bent over the table, supporting herself on her elbows, and lowered her upper body. When her tits and stomach made contact with the table surface she hissed and shivered, from the cold surface. Looking back, she gave a smoldering look.
“Come on, Stud. I want some cream.” She punctuated her words by shaking her ass.
I stood up and guided myself into her hot box, and taking hold of her hips, I started to stroke.
“That’s good, Mitch. Keep the same pace but make it harder.”
I increased the force, and we could hear the wet, slapping sound my balls made, accompanied by her small cries, each time I bottomed in her. I realized my balls were hitting her clitoral hood. Reaching down, I started to massage her clitoris, and she pushed her ass back, giving me more space to work, moaning her pleasure. Due to the force of my strokes, her tits were rubbing on the table, and she must have been enjoying that, because she allowed her body to be pushed back and forth along the surface of the table. I felt her tighten inside. She was almost there. I eased my efforts on her clitoris, not wanting to bring her too quickly, and slowed my pace.
“Faster... ugh... I’m almost there...”
“Easy, Sarah. I want you to enjoy this.”
“I... ahh... am... more... please...”
When I pulled back I saw her little brown hole winking at me, which gave me an idea. Wetting the thumb of my free hand with spit, I placed it gently over her hole, and massaged it, getting a shriek. She pushed her ass back to get more stimulation. As her pussy got tighter, I increased the pace of my strokes. Capturing the folds of her clitoral hood between two fingers, I squeezed it lightly and started an up and down milking action. Sarah responded with a soft scream of pleasure. As she started to come and her pussy started its milking actions, I pressed my thumb inside her little hole, drawing another scream from her. Then, her back arched, her upper body coming off from the table. She started to tremble, and pushed her ass back, trying to fuck herself faster on my cock, increasing my own arousal. I kept working her clitoris, and increased the pace of my strokes, wanting to come. Feeling her come so strongly did something to me and I quickly found myself on the brink. A few more strokes, and I was ready to blow. As she was coming down, I took several brutal strokes, getting fresh moans and yelps with each of them. When my first spurt burst, I buried myself as deeply as possible. Feeling me come inside her, she started to roll her ass, trying to pleasure me.
“Oh, Mitch! It’s... ahhh... hot... you’re burning me...” she cried, as I continued to throb and spurt inside her.
Her asshole was tightening and relaxing around my thumb, but I couldn’t do much because it was trapped between her ass and my belly, in an awkward position. I eased my attentions on her clitoris, playing around her pussy lips, getting my fingers wet with our combined juices that were leaking around my shaft. I moved my hand to her belly, tracing soft teasing patterns with my fingers, making her moan and shiver with the new stimulation. Leaning back, I managed to withdraw my thumb from her little hole, getting a moan, before pushing my cock back inside her. I felt her legs tremble, and leaned over her to slide both of my hands around her sides, caressing the outer swells of her breasts. I urged her to rise up a bit, so I could slip my hands under her tits. When she lifted her chest off the table, I cupped her tits, and teased her nipples mercilessly, and received moans of appreciation.
Releasing my hold on her tits, I slid my arm to her belly and gently urged her to stand up. Getting the hint, she stood, taking care not to uncouple us, and back stepped with me. Allowing me to support her weight, she spread her legs, and I sat down on the chair with her on my lap. Leaning against me, she sighed softly, before turning her head to kiss me. I kept running my hands around her arms, sides, and played with her tits for a short while, before moving them down to her pussy. She broke the kiss with a moan, and closing her eyes, gave herself to my gentle caresses, letting me bring her down.
After a while, she grabbed my hands and moved them to her tits, letting me cup them, and kept her hands on mine. She didn’t say anything, but it seemed like she didn’t want any more stimulation, preferring the gentle contact of my hands on her tits. It was a difficult proposition; I loved her tits, their soft yet firm feel, and her puffy nipples still hard, digging in my palms like small pebbles. We rested like that for several minutes quietly, until she finally broke the silence.
“Mmmm. I love what you do to me.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“I’m sure it was. I feel like a brand new woman. What a way to start the day.”
“Yeah. A good cup of coffee does wonders.”
She laughed, and retorted, “That too.”
She wasn’t going to let me score that one, but I wasn’t going to concede defeat easily, so I said, “Ummm... Sarah? What else was there besides coffee?”
“A hot cunt that will fuck you to death if you’re not careful. I might have to phone Kathy and get her permission first, though.”
“You’re a successful doctor, a talented singer, a lovely woman, a good friend, and a wonderful lover... with a hot pussy,” I corrected her.
“Thank you,” she replied, softly. Then teased with, “Flattery will get you anywhere.”
Instead of answering, I kissed her neck and shoulders, squeezing her tits softly.
“God! I’m insatiable. You drive me crazy,” she responded to my attentions.
“I think we should get a cup of coffee before it gets too old,” I reminded.
“Yeah. I could do with a cup, but I want to clean up a bit,” she replied, while squeezing my hands, urging me to squeeze her tits.
A few minutes later, she carefully disengaged, cupping her pussy with one hand so that she wouldn’t drip on the floor, and headed to the bathroom. There was a little spot on the floor from our quickie, and some on the chair where I was sitting, so I cleaned them. Using a paper towel I cleaned myself, and then filled up a cup for her. By then, she was back, looking refreshed. Taking a sip from her coffee, she looked around as if she was searching for something, before her eyes settled on me. Kneeling in front of me, she licked my cock before sucking it into her hot mouth. Because I had cleaned up, there wasn’t much she could lick.
“I was looking for some cream for my coffee,” she said with a disappointed look in her eyes.
“Sorry, it will take a while to order a new batch.”
“Let’s go to the living room. It will be more comfortable.”
She took the towel draped at the back of the chair, and we went to the living room. She put the towel on one of the couches, and asked me to take a seat. Then she went to the stereo, and put it on, before coming back to sit next to me, cuddling. When we finished our coffee, I went to her room, in search of my cigarettes. In the living room, I collected our cups and went to the kitchen to get a re-fill, and returned. Sitting next to her I lit my first cigarette of the day, getting dizzy with the first intake of nicotine. She took the cigarette from me and took a drag, but she didn’t return it.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” I said.
“I don’t. Not regularly. I smoke when I drink at a party or occasionally after sex.”
“I wish I could limit my smoking as you do. That’s one nasty habit I’ve been reluctant to give up.”
“Well, you know the dangers, so I’m not going to lecture you.”
“You know, we didn’t talk much,” I said, feeling guilty because about all we had done had been making love or fucking (depending on your point of view).
With a tingling laugh, she said, “Oh, but we did. Body language is the best kind of talk.”
“Come on, Sarah. I’m serious.”
She ran the back of her fingers along my cheek affectionately, before she responded with, “I know you are. I really don’t have much to tell. Like your sister, I’m busy with school and the hospital. I spend my free time practicing the guitar or with your sister and other friends. I’ve gone through some relationships, but I don’t really have the time to keep relationships and I enjoy my independence. I haven’t met anybody that made my head spin, yet. I want to finish the school first, and then take it as it comes.”
“I would have thought you’d find a guy by now. You know what I think of you, what I see, when I look at you. There should be some guy who thinks the same way.”
“Perhaps. But as I said, I’m trying to catch up on what I missed when I was younger.”
“Well, Kathy wasn’t very active when she was young. At least, to my knowledge.”
“True, but she got asked out and got hot and heavy a lot of times, even though she didn’t go all the way. I didn’t get to do that. I was shy when I was young, and self-conscious about my looks. When I got over that phase, quite late, the boys were scared I wouldn’t be interested in them. And the ones that finally got interested were the wrong kind.”
“Even in the med school?”
“Well, the first two years were difficult, then I repeated a year, because I was thinking of singing professionally. I was young and my head was filled with dreams of fame and big money. And I was hanging with the wrong crowd. You know the type, always partying, and drinking, and barely managing school, if at all. Kathy reminded me of our dreams, how we wanted to be doctors, that I could always become a professional singer, if I wanted, after finishing school. She was right, and managed to convince me. I owe her much. She spent months helping me catch up on the classes and bring up my grades.”
I noticed her gray eyes were moist, and she was looking at someplace far away, as if remembering something, but I didn’t understand how her story would make her so emotional. I got the feeling there was more to than she was telling me.
“Sarah, I know you’re very close to each other, but why do you feel so strongly about her?”
“I told you I was young and foolish. The first year wasn’t overwhelming, and I got by with little studying. I was partying and busy with music. I was hanging with the wrong crowd. Things were different in my second year, and that was when I got into trouble. My parents were going crazy with me, and Kathy pulled me aside a few times. Then she bailed me out of a tight spot during a party, catching somebody slipping something in my drink. That was an eye opener, and I realized Kathy was right, but then I was way behind in my classes, so I failed that semester. Kathy helped me with the studying, and I passed the repeat semester. In the meantime, Kathy’s social life was suffering because of me. She was dating a guy, and they broke up because Kathy was busy with me and didn’t have time for him. How did I pay her? By failing the next semester. She was very angry, rightly so. I thought she would turn her back on me, but instead she kept helping me with my studies. So I finished the second repeat semester, and after that I got a handle on things.”
“I see... It cost Kathy her guy... Was he worth it?”
“No. But neither of us knew it at the time. The point is, the guy wasn’t the only thing I cost Kathy. After the break-up, he started to date another girl; a spoiled little rich bitch. You know the type, daddy’s little princess. Her daddy was another piece of work. He was a professor in the med school. Once Kathy realized the guy wasn’t worth her trouble, she got over him pretty quickly. However, he was hung up on Kathy. The little bitch he was dating was jealous, because her guy was still hung up on Kathy. So what does the little bitch do? She manipulates her daddy and sets him against Kathy. Kathy’s third year turned into hell. Nothing she did was good; her work was below average, etc. That bastard even managed to influence a few other instructors as well and turned them against her. Kathy’s hands were tied. She could have fought, but even if she had won, she would have lost. In the medical world reputation is everything. They don’t look favorably upon students who embarrass a professor.”
“So, how the hell did she survive?”
“That prick of a professor got an attractive offer from a private practice in another city, and decided to take it. His daughter, the little bitch, suddenly found she was failing exams, so she quit school. With those two gone, the negative criticism pretty much stopped. There were other professors and assistant professors who were quite fond of Kathy and her work, and suddenly they found they could voice their opinions without fear of repercussions. Slowly the others who were putting Kathy down realized they had been taken for a ride by the bastard who left, and they were embarrassed. It was a minor scandal, although it rarely made the rounds of gossip, and few people were aware of what happened. I feared they would turn against her again, because of their part in the scandal and their embarrassment. To her credit Kathy never said a word or indicated she was aware of anything out of ordinary. I think that’s what finally decided it for some of the professors, and they treated her fair and square. I know of three professors who apologized to her in private for the unfair treatment and their part in it. Do you know what your sister’s reply was?”
When I shook my head, she smiled and said, “You must be mistaken. I’m not aware of any unfair treatment, but I appreciate your concerns.”
“Jeeez.”
“Yes. Now, that’s class!”
“How the hell did you hear all that if it was kept under wraps? Especially about the three professors?”
“That was pure luck. One of the professors forgot that an intercom was open, and his secretary heard the conversation. She liked your sister very much. For good reasons. Kathy had spent several nights in the ICU when her eight year old son had been hospitalized, frequently at his bedside. I saw the kid a few times, visiting together with Kathy. The poor kid was beaten badly. Kathy is still fond of that kid. By the way, that’s why she chose Pediatrics. Anyways. So, the secre—”
“Just hold on a second,” I cut her off suddenly, a light bulb going off in my head.
“What—”
“Tell me about the kid.”
“Mitch? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
I didn’t realize my voice was hoarse, until I spoke again.
“I’m OK. Why?”
“You look pale.”
Trying to calm myself, I tried again. “I’m all right, Sarah. Please, tell me about the kid. Whatever you can remember.”
She gave me a curious look, while thinking back, trying to remember about the kid.
“He was an eight year old kid. Two kids in the playground beat him up. I really don’t know the whole story. When I saw him he had many bruises. I think he was in the ICU for something else, and not for injuries from the beating. A blood condition or something.”
“How did Kathy know him?”
“I think she was doing the rounds with other students in ICU as part of a tour of the hospital and her studies, when they brought in the kid. After that, every minute she could spare, she was by his bedside. I know that she wasn’t supposed to be there, but somehow she managed to get in.”
My mind was busy with what Kathy had told me about the time I was nine years old. Was her interest in that kid related to what happened so long ago?
I hope not, Sis. That’s too long to carry a hurt.
“Mitch, something’s wrong. I can see that. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“It’s nothing, Sarah. It might be something from my past. When I work it out, I’ll tell you, but I don’t make any sense out of it at this moment.”
“Are you sure it’s not related to Kathy?”
Shit! Bloody female intuitions!
“To tell the truth, I’m not sure about anything, Sarah. I need to think about it. I don’t even know if I can figure it out. Let me think it over, OK?”
She wasn’t convinced, but she realized I wasn’t going to talk about it.
“Uh, OK.”
“Back to the story. You were saying the professor had forgotten the intercom was open,” I prompted her.
“Yeah. So the secretary listens to the whole exchange and hears every word. She also knew if this got out it could cause problems, but she knew Kathy and I were best friends. I guess she must have remembered me from the time when I was with Kathy by her son’s bed. She also knew I was worried about Kathy, so she spilled the beans to me, reminding me the possible consequences if it ever got out, as if I needed to be reminded.”
“I see... So you feel responsible for all the hard times Kathy had. But Sarah, it seems to me that relationship was bound to fail. Kathy would have broken up with that guy anyway, and all the shit would have happened, with or without you.”
“Maybe, maybe not. They might have broken up, but then it could have happened under different circumstances, without all the other things coming into play. If Kathy had broken up with him later, that little bitch and her asshole daddy would have been gone already. It’s difficult to say. I know this much. It happened and it cost her.”
“I don’t think you should feel guilty about something like that, Sarah. Kathy is very loyal, and she was loyal to her friend. She would have done it whether you asked for it or not. It wasn’t your decision. It was her decision.”
“I understand that, Mitch. What I feel isn’t because of what she had to go through. Not really. She helped me and I failed her. I should have stood on my own two feet after passing that semester, but I failed a second time, because I wasn’t giving it my best. She had to help me again, while all that shit was going on around her. That’s what bothers me.”
“She loves you, Sarah. And you make allowances for people you love. What can I say, that’s Kathy. You know her better than I do.”
“Yes. That’s why I love her.”
While listening to her, my mind was busy with that revelation, trying to make some sense out of it.
“You said that was during her third year?”
“Yes.”
Shit! That was my Senior Year; when I was keeping busy with school and the part time job. When I was going to pieces after her, lost in my own little world. I was so involved with myself, I hadn’t noticed anything. I wouldn’t have. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Sarah, did my parents know what was going on at the school? The trouble with the professors and such?”
“I don’t think so. I know she got some flack from your mom, but she also knew Kathy wasn’t dawdling around. She was studying, and all her spare time was spent helping me study. So, your mom couldn’t fault her. I think Kathy told them the med school was much harder than she thought it would be.”
I lit another cigarette, and took a drag, thinking over what Sarah said.
Yeah. That figures. She wouldn’t want Mom upset, and she was helping Sarah. Mom liked Sarah, and still likes her. Kathy probably didn’t want Mom to blame Sarah for what happened. So she gave Mom the impression that her problems were with difficult schoolwork, not a result of any unfair treatment, or time spent helping Sarah. Seeing Kathy give her best effort at school was enough for Mom, whether Kathy succeeded or not. Mom’s only expectation at such times was ‘give your best’. She had always been fair and reasonable in her expectations for her kids.
Jeeez! Kathy didn’t have anybody to talk to. Fuck!
I’m sorry, Sis. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.
What a pair of siblings we are. Secret after secret. Juggling act all along. I know I did it out of love... I didn’t want to worry, or hurt you... or Dad, or Mom, for that matter. I didn’t want to burden anybody with my problems.
Now it seems, you did the same.
I hadn’t realized how alike Kathy and I were, until that moment. We had been competitive, successful, and determined. We loved and cared about each other and showed it. But, we also kept things secret, not to burden the other.
“Mitch, do you remember what I said to you, yesterday?”
“Huh?”
“When I reminded you Kathy is your blood, I also told you that you can talk to me, and it will stay here. I can see something’s bothering you. Very much. I have the feeling it’s about Kathy, and you know how I feel about her. Are you sure you can’t talk to me?” she asked softly with an almost pleading tone, urging me to talk to her.
I don’t know why, but I felt tired, and old; older than my young years. Friendship, love, trust, and secrets made for a lousy combination. Sarah was a good friend. When we were young, she had been the first girl I felt comfortable talking to. Perhaps, because we had known each other for a long time as kids, and later, as teens. She had been a constant figure around Kathy, a face I was used to seeing. But, I never had serious talks with her; only about common interests like music, books, and school stuff, the daily things. She was, after all, my sister’s best friend and we had never been boyfriend and girlfriend. Considering how shy I had been, Sarah had been a special case.
I thought about how I should answer her question; I didn’t want to evade her, she deserved better. With a tired sigh, I said, “It’s not about Kathy, Sarah. It’s about me. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.”
She didn’t say anything, instead, she ran her hand on my arm, trying to give some comfort.
“Sometimes things happen, Mitch. I told you my story.”
“Yes. You’re right. Sometimes things happen. You’re a good friend, Sarah. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, before sharing a long kiss.
We spent the next several minutes in quiet solitude, finding comfort in each other’s presence, cuddling, before Sarah broke the silence.
“I’m going to take a shower. Do you want to join me?”
“Sure. Do you have a spare toothbrush?”
“I think I have one in one of the cabinets in the bathroom.”
* * * * *
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