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“Don’t be silly. If you guys had an argument, you need to work it out. You’re not children anymore.”
Fine time for Dad to come to that realization.
Seventeen
Cindy
Ican’tavoidtheconversation forever. The easiest way to get my life back in order is to forget the past few days ever happened. Well,forgetwould be a stretch.
We have to keep our sibling relationship as siblings and our romantic relationships with other people.
I’m not the adventurous, impulsive spirit that Ballz is. I’m not the rule breaker like Adrian. And I don’t take control of every situation the way Jeff does.
I’m the girl who loves her rules, and schedules, and everything being in its place, and making sense, and not rocking the boat. My brothers offer the exact opposite.
I want what’s best, what’s safest. Even if it comes at the sacrifice of those incredible orgasms. From them. Surely other men are capable of doing that. I also make a mental note to buy a vibrator with more features.
More banging on the door causes Dad to give up. “You kids.”
I don’t know what to say, certainly not to explain this is far from a childish argument. My fingers trace over my belly.
My stomach does a flip-flop and I worry it’s a baby tumbling around. Not an actual baby, but the start of one. What if it’s too late to walk away?
There’s a schedule I’d like to keep: my next period, which should start in two weeks.
The guys have already spied me, and the second Dad unlocks the door, they storm inside.
“Slow down, boys. Check your attitudes.”
My brothers stop respectfully but split their attention between Dad and me.
“Whatever argument you had, don’t come in here ganging up on your sister. She’s a lot younger. Be role models, or remember that you’re not too big for me to tan your hide.”
Mom steps behind Dad, who’s closing the door.
Mom angles her head up to me. “And if this is another one of those arguments where you got upset because they messed up one of your schedules, remember to take a breath and be flexible.”
Mom and Dad have been trying to help me battle my rigidity ever since I can remember. I feel like I’m eight again, and my brothers are in high school when they’d put my Barbie dolls in the wrong order just to get a rise out of me.
This is so much bigger. None of us give any indication of what’s wrong.
“Okay,” Mom says, looking between all of us. “Your dad and I are leaving. We should be out for about out three hours and by the time we get back, I expect this will be resolved.”
“Yes, Mom,” I say. The boys each kiss her cheek.
They motion for me to come downstairs. I’d resist, but it’s safer to meet them in the living room than next to my bedroom. Moments later, I’m alone in the house, face-to-face with my three brothers.
“How did it go with your coach?”
“I promised him we’d follow the rules,” Adrian says.
“We didn’t call you our fiancée, if that’s what you’re asking.” Jeff nailed that one.
“His big concern is that we don’t run around getting into legal trouble,” Ballz says.
Jeff continues, “He’s pissed and threatened to bench us, but I used some of that Qigong shit to calm myself down. That was the clencher. It’s the first time I didn’t blow up at him. I promised the anger management sessions are working, and he wouldn’t want to invest that much in grooming me into the fabulous player I am, then let another team reap the benefits.”
“It was a beautiful moment seeing Jeff work him over,” Adrian says.
