Touch

It was an appropriately dreary day for a funeral. The sky was an angry looking dark grey that had opened up with an irritatingly pervasive drizzle several hours before. The rain was cold and constant and driving me crazy. I hate being cold and wet.

I had sat through the entire overlong funeral in the church and now I was standing outside by the caskets as they were being lowered into the ground getting soaked through the green wool coat of my Class A's.

I would have preferred not to be wearing a uniform I wouldn't have the right to put on in a few months but I just didn't have anything else.

So now I was stuck in the damn thing, which had been too small for me for years. I should have bought a new one years ago, but I wasn't about to pony up the money when it wouldn't last me long enough to be worth it.

As if the monkey suit wasn't bad enough, the damn black beret on my head was like a dead animal festering on top of me.

It hadn't fit me from the day they issued it to me but once again I refused to replace it, cheap though it might have been. I was acutely aware of how much it resembled a pizza hat as it soaked up enough water to make it sticky and heavy on my head.

Oddly enough, the shoes were too big rather than too small. They constantly rubbed me as I walked and I had to modify my stride to prevent them from slipping off and leaving me walking through the mud in dress socks.

I hated that damn uniform and had been very pleased with the thought that I'd never have to wear it again when I got out of the Army. So much for that.

I suppose it might seem a touch self involved, or possibly insulting, to be thinking about what I was wearing while watching both of my parents being buried. Maybe it was, but I had to think about something.

I certainly wasn't going to be glowering at everything that moved like my brother. He looked ready to chew rocks, but I couldn't really see why. Sure our parents had just died, but what was there to be so pissed off about?

My brother is two years older than me and was wearing a nearly identical uniform to mine. We were even the same rank, though that didn't really bother either of us anymore.

At one time I would have been proud to have caught up to him but I'd left crap like that behind years ago. The simple fact of the matter is the National Guard promotes slow and I had spent four years in the active Army while he was a pure Guardsman. That was the reason we were both Staff Sergeants, not my amazing aptitude or any shit like that.

For what must have been the millionth time that day I forced down the urge to put my hands in my pockets. I had the black dress gloves on; courtesy of my brother since I hadn't been able to find the ones I'd been issued. He wore a pair as well. I guess he was a bit tighter with the things he was issued than I was.

Regardless, the damn things were worthless against the rain and completely soaked through. It felt like I was wearing ice mittens. There was plenty of irony to go around that day, but most obvious to me was Brian's inexplicable rage.

Of the three children in our family, I was best known for my temper and simmering anger. Brian had used that against me when we were kids and had always displayed a more reserved temperament. It was definitely going against type that he was pissed off and I was calm. Death can affect people in weird ways I guess.

I shifted uncomfortably where I was standing and glanced over at the third of my parent's children. Kerry was my much younger sister, though she wasn't the little girl I tended to think of her as. She was all grown up now, or so she thought.

She was a college freshman nearly finished with her first year. It would be somewhere around a month until she had her finals. At that particular moment I was fairly certain that her school work was the furthest thing from her mind.

Kerry looked miserable, maybe more miserable than anyone else at the funeral. I suppose she had a right to be since it had been her parents that died.

Of course she was a girl so it was expected that she would be a teary mess and she didn't disappoint. She hadn't stopped crying since the beginning of the funeral inside the church and maybe even before that. I hadn't realized it was possible to cry for so long.

It didn't help that she was soaked to the bone too. She wore a long overcoat that covered her black dress but seemed incapable of stopping the insistent rain.

Her hands were up by her face, as they had been for far too long, and her curly long brown hair was plastered to her head and heavy with moisture. I wondered briefly if it had been foresight or indifference that had stopped her from putting on mascara.

I turned back to the priest as he droned on. I didn't hear a word he said but I wasn't exactly trying to pick up on it anyway. Funerals had never been my favorite experience. I know shocking isn't it?

I'd been to a few and it always struck me as overlong and unnecessarily weepy. Sure it's sad when someone dies but shit why do you have to gorge yourself on it?

I'm not a very emotional guy but even at the funerals I'd attended for people I barely knew I was more moved than I would have liked. I chalk it up to the use of sad music and constant reminders of how sad death is. But I guess that's the whole point of a funeral isn't it?

At some point the old man in the robes finished with whatever it was he was saying and they got on with it. No one threw themselves on the casket or dropped dirt on it or any melodramatic shit like that.

We all just watched as they were lowered into their slowly filling puddles. Side by side plots had cost an assload, but I guess it was worth it. My brother and sister certainly seemed to think so. Watching my two parents going into the ground next to each other almost made me agree.

Once the two caskets were in their final resting place there was an odd few moments where no one seemed to know what to do. We all just sort of milled about as if afraid leaving would be insulting before I finally took the initiative and turned away. I think it was appropriate that I was the first to leave, but maybe I'm reading too much into it.

I was sitting in my father's car waiting for Kerry to come back from the grave sight so we could leave. Sure I could have gone to get her but it would have meant I'd end up waiting beside her in the rain as she just stood there and stared at the ground they'd gone into. I wasn't too keen on hanging out in the rain when I didn't have to.

I didn't have any music on the radio and I didn't have much going through my head either. I just sat there and stared out the passenger window up the hill where my sister remained standing alone. A thought I hadn't had in almost a week flitted through my head again and I pushed it down. Now is definitely not the right time for that shit.

I felt like I could stare at her back all day. That's not entirely accurate; it's more like I could stare at anything all day. I guess I was still stunned. My mind was uncharacteristically blank and had been for far too long.

Truth be told there was a lot I needed to be thinking about. Our parents' death had left us with a few things to take care of and a few problems that didn't have easy solutions. None of them was pressing enough to require immediate action but still they were pretty big. Too bad I had no room in my mind for them.

Kerry finally started to make her way down the hill toward me. Brian had left with his family nearly thirty minutes ago and I had been waiting in the car at least fifteen minutes longer than that but she didn't seem to notice. She looked hollow as she pulled open the door and sort of melted into the seat beside me.

Silence enveloped us in a way that was entirely different from the silence I'd already been sitting in. Her sadness was like a weight that pushed down on me to the point that I felt a pressure in my ears as if I was underwater at a great depth.

I wondered if it was wrong of me to feel so little in comparison to how my sister was reacting as I put the car in gear and drove away from the cemetery.

Silence was a way of life for the next three days as Kerry and I moved like ghosts through our parent's house. I wouldn't have stayed there if it could be avoided but I really didn't have much choice. I had been back from Iraq for all of three weeks at that point and I didn't have anywhere else to stay.

More irony I suppose, the way my parents died so soon after I finished with my last deployment. I had spent a year in a shithole being shot at by people who by any standard deserved to live there and had come out of it untouched. Just like the previous two deployments. Less than two weeks after I got back to the real world my parents were the ones who died. As if they had been the ones in danger the whole time.

I was the one to finally break the silence my sister and I had been living in. We were sitting at the dinner table having breakfast, big bowls of cereal for both of us and coffee for her, when I looked up at her and said "You're gonna have to go back to school soon."

Kerry just sort of blinked at me for a moment before taking a sip of her steaming hot coffee.

"Finals are coming up and you've got to go back to get ready for them." It wasn't riveting conversation and in fact it was one way, but at least someone was saying something. She just kept eating as if I hadn't said anything.

"Come on Kerry enough of the silent bullshit. I know you're pretty broken up right now but you have to start thinking about the real world again."

"What makes you think I'm not?" She finally spoke. It didn't even matter to me that she was challenging my assertion as long as she had found her voice.

"Well I guess nothing." It was a lame excuse for an explanation but it was something to keep her talking, or so I hoped.

"Good," was all she said back before falling back into her silence. I sighed a bit then, exasperated with my inability to get things going. It was several long minutes before I found something else to say.

"So are you gonna go back to school soon or what?"

"No." Again with the one word answer. I rolled my eyes before I could stop it but she didn't notice. It was all I could do to keep from chewing my lip in frustration.

"Why not?"

"Because." I was really starting to get irritated with her now.

"Because is not an answer," I shot back in a tone that made my frustration known. She just looked at me blankly and sipped her damn coffee.

"When are you going back?"

"I don't know. Maybe never."

"Christ Kerry! You aren't dropping out of college."

"I will if I want to." She sounded so fucking calm it was disgusting. I wanted to wring her neck. No, I wanted to slap her. No, I wanted to fuck her. Shit, there it was again.

"Kerry you love college, why the fuck would you want to drop out?" I could hear a desperate and angry tone in my voice as I asked that and hoped she wasn't too affected by it.

"I don't think I could just go back to being that girl. Not after all this." If she noticed my tone it hadn't affected her at all. I would have preferred too much affect.

"Being what girl?" It took effort not to shout at her and I was starting to think maybe I was being a tad too emotional.

"You know, the girl I was before."

"No I don't know. What were you before?"

"A girl," she answered simply. I could swear she was smirking a bit at that, as if pleased she had out maneuvered me with words. It was a rare occurrence for her so I guess she had a right to be pleased. That didn't make me any less pissed off at her for it.

"Kerry what the fuck are you talking about?" I was on the verge of shouting now and still she didn't react.

"You know what I mean," she said clearly knowing I had no idea what she meant.

"Stop fucking with me! I don't know what you mean and you know it!" I stood up and nearly knocked over my chair as I growled at her.

I was loosing control and had no idea why. Too late I realized that the emotion I hadn't felt for the past week was suddenly upon me. It was all I could do to hold back tears. Tears for Christ sake! I don't cry.

"Does that piss you off Jay?" She asked with a sudden thickening of emotion in her voice.

"Does it make you want to scream at me? Huh? Do you want to break something, to hit something? Huh?"

"Fuck you Kerry!" It wasn't much of a response but it was taking all of my focus to keep from lashing out at whatever was at hand.

"How does it feel Jay? How does it feel to finally feel something huh?" I balled my hands into fists as I stared at her with my vision turning red.

She had done this on purpose. She'd pissed me off to get me to react because she knew I was always ready to be angry. She was trying to help me. Goddamn it she was trying to help me!

"Do it Jay! Loose it and break something. Hit me if you have to I don't care, just do something."

I was at a crossroads and my choices were to either explode with anger and attack her or collapse back on my seat and cry. Neither seemed like a very good choice but I'd rather emasculate myself than hurt my sister. I sat back down with a thump and started to sob like a newborn.

"It feels good to cry doesn't it," she said in a soft voice as I felt her arms encircling me. I hadn't even noticed that she'd gotten up and walked around the table to sit beside me. I held her as she held me and was absorbed in the comforting feel of her supporting me.

This was something I had never allowed anyone to do for me, something I wouldn't have admitted I needed no matter what sort of torture I was put to. It was embarrassing to me that I couldn't handle my emotions, like some sort of personal failure.

It should have been made worse by the fact that it was Kerry that saw my breakdown but for some reason it wasn't. If anything I was comforted by that fact.

We held each other and cried together for far too long. It was exhausting and thoroughly draining but at the same time it was true liberation. I was suffused with the very essence of maybe the only person I really cared about as she held me.

I could smell Irish Spring on her skin, fresh from her morning shower, and the soft fruity scent of her shampoo. There was something else, something deeper and more subtle that I could smell too. It was the smell of her, not her cleaning products or her breakfast, just of her. I drew it into me and reveled in it.

The feel of her curly hair against my face was comforting as well, all silky soft as it caressed my nose. I wanted to stay like that forever with her hair brushing my face like fresh sheets thrown over the head and her scent sending waves of calming sensations through me.

Of course I couldn't and eventually we pulled apart all cried out. It occurred to me as I stared into her softly smiling face that I hadn't had a single twisted thought about her while we'd been so close.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." I said as I wiped at the tears that yet my face.

She immediately reached out and caressed her hand down the side of my face. It sent a jolt of electricity through me as I felt the soft smooth skin of her fingers and palm on my cheek. I wanted to turn into it like a dog being pet but I held back.

"It's ok. I was waiting for this to happen. Actually I was just hoping for it to happen. You've been holding it in for too long and I thought it might be starting to kill you by now."

She maintained her soft smile and continued to caress me with long smooth strokes. My sister had never touched me like that before and I started to feel decidedly unbrotherly feelings for her. That was my cue to make my escape.

"Well thanks for, you know, being there for me but I've got to get going."

It was a terrible lie, I didn't have anything to do I just needed to get away from her before I lost it again. I was certain that if I fell into an emotional oblivion again the result wouldn't be as innocent as the first time.

"Are you sure? I mean we could talk some more if you want."

"No I'm sure. I'll just..." I didn't have any way to finish so I didn't. I just got up and fled the room, bounding up the stairs two at a time and leaving behind my half full bowl of cereal.

It was too much like me running away from her for my taste but I couldn't think of some way to make it into anything else.

I have to tell you, being attracted to your sister is not easy. It's not something that you can treat nonchalantly or just brush off. I'm certain it's a sign of some other much deeper psychological flaw of mine but I'm not really qualified to say what that might be.

Prior to this I had spent years denying to myself that such an attraction was even possible and yet, after all that effort to suppress it, out it had come. Now I was stuck with having to admit that I was both a source of protection as well as a possible danger to her.

I threw myself on my bed and mulled over my uncomfortable situation. My options weren't good. The way I saw it I could either confess my unnatural desires to her or keep silent. Only an idiot would think it was a good idea for a guy to tell his sister he wants to fuck her so that just left silence. But that wasn't working too well for me.

I had been honest with myself about this for the past couple years or so and the whole time I was able to maintain the common sense approach of keeping to myself. Unfortunately, it was quite literally driving me crazy.

I found that though I was still attracted to other girls, all I could think about was Kerry when I was with them. I'd slept with a few and been sufficiently disturbed by this phenomenon to give up on finding a girlfriend I could give my unwavering focus to.

At this point I hadn't had sex in over a year and a half, though much of that time could be blamed on my deployment to Iraq.

All of my life I'd had the habit of rubbing my fingers and lips across the back of my fingernails. It didn't take much for me to realize this was becoming an expression of my sexual frustration but it took years for me to discover that it was actually more of an expression of my need for intimacy.

The sensation of fingernails, where there are no nerves, against skin is very similar to touching someone else. Over the past year I had become almost addicted to the habit and I was very much aware of it. It took great effort for me to suppress it when other people could see me do it.

Now as I lay on my bed in my quiet room my fingers were constantly moving over each other as I relived the closeness I'd just shared with Kerry. I chomped my lip, anther physical manifestation that I often displayed, and fought with myself to stop it.

Oh how I wanted to be touching her, not even sexually just to feel her skin. I guess the way I wanted to feel her was innately sexual but still it was as close to innocent as such a thing could be.

I was still struggling to shut this down when there was a soft knock on my door. It startled me sufficiently enough that I was finally able to pull my hands apart and place them on the bed.

Before I could really think about what would have been the best thing to say, I had already said "come in."

"Jay, are you alright?" Kerry said as I watched her slowly enter my room. On the plus side I no longer wanted to feel my fingernails but instead I wanted to take her in my arms and caress her skin in the worst way. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing. My hands bunched up my bedspread as I fought to keep them at my sides.

"Yeah, I'm good. Why?" Stupid! What the fuck was I thinking? I should have just gotten rid of her.

"Well you ran away from the table without cleaning up or even finishing your breakfast and we both know how much you love cereal." She answered with a wide grin. It's true, I do love cereal. I don't know why, but I do.