went around telling everybody our business.”
“But, you did tell everybody your business.”
“I know, but she doesn’t need to know that,” he says.
“You’re a pig, you know that?”
He smiles triumphantly. “I know, but I want to get laid, so mum’s the word.” He holds up a finger to his lips to silence me, and I roll my eyes again.
Three hours later, I find myself leaving the bar with Daniel. I pour him into the cab and step inside after him.
“Pearl Road apartments, please,” I tell the driver, and we speed off into the night. Daniel, who is drunk, and now depressed about the prospect of not getting Ashley back, is leaning on me and groaning.
“Ashley, oh, Ashley, wherefore aren’t you with me right now, Ashley?”
Oh, brother.
His half-assed attempt at Shakespeare, on her behalf, makes me feel a bit agitated.
“Daniel, she’s a whore. Just let her go.”
He lifts his head and looks at me, affronted.
“Don’t you think I know she’s a whore? But, she was my whore.” He lays his head, back on my shoulder, as we continue our ride.
I pay the driver the fair, and put Daniel’s arm over my shoulders. He’s quite a bit taller than me, but I manage to get both of us up the flight of stairs to our place. I open the door and shove him onto the couch.
“You’re the best sister ever. You know that, right?” he says, cocked sideways in an awkward sitting position.
“Yep, I’m the best,” I say in a monotone voice and begin taking off his shoes.
“You save me from very flexible whores. You let me stay at your place to save up money. You cook and…clean…and…”
And, he’s out. The limp body of my very drunk, very sad brother is finally unconscious and now, I can go to bed. After tipping him over, so he’s lying across the seats, I pick his legs up onto the couch and throw a blanket over him. After the lights are out, I head toward my bedroom and fall into bed.
Morning arrives, and I wake with a pounding headache. I carefully pry my eyelids open to see the bright sunlight streaming in through my window. I didn’t have that much to drink last night, but there’s little doubt where my pain is stemming from: cheap beer. Gingerly, I sit up, covering my eyes as virtual daggers jab into them. I swing my legs out of bed and stand.
“Agh!” I exclaim, as my left ankle rolls to the side and buckles under my weight. I sit back down on the bed quickly. “Damn it,” I say, while taking my sock off and rubbing my ankle gently, trying to ease the pain. After a few minutes, I limp toward the bathroom in search of a bandage to wrap around it.
After wrapping it up, I hobble toward the kitchen and spy the, still sleeping, figure of my brother huddled under the blanket. He stirs as I begin making breakfast.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I say only to hear him moan in protest. “How’s your head?”
“I hate you,” he replies, and I laugh.
“Why do you hate me?”
“Because you didn’t get as shit-faced as I did, and you’re able to be upright.”
I laugh again.
“I’m not exactly upright,” I say, lifting my pant leg to reveal the bandage that’s tightly wrapped around my ankle.
“How’d you do that?”
“I stepped down on it and twisted it this morning. It’s really sore.”
“Well, I hope it’s broken.”
“Nice, Daniel. Really nice.”
“Only because you cost me Ashley,” he goes on to say.
“What are you talking about?”
“If you were any kind of good sister, you would’ve encouraged me to keep pursuing her.”
“Yeah, if I wanted you to catch something.” I snicker at my statement.
“Whatever. If you liked your amputee, I’d encourage you .”
“Daniel, he’s my client! That’s all. I can’t like him like that, even if I wanted to. And, I don’t.” I say the words, then sigh. I’m not sure why the thought of that barrier makes me sad. It’s not like anything would ever come of me and Logan Turner anyway.
I grab the two plates of
“But, you did tell everybody your business.”
“I know, but she doesn’t need to know that,” he says.
“You’re a pig, you know that?”
He smiles triumphantly. “I know, but I want to get laid, so mum’s the word.” He holds up a finger to his lips to silence me, and I roll my eyes again.
Three hours later, I find myself leaving the bar with Daniel. I pour him into the cab and step inside after him.
“Pearl Road apartments, please,” I tell the driver, and we speed off into the night. Daniel, who is drunk, and now depressed about the prospect of not getting Ashley back, is leaning on me and groaning.
“Ashley, oh, Ashley, wherefore aren’t you with me right now, Ashley?”
Oh, brother.
His half-assed attempt at Shakespeare, on her behalf, makes me feel a bit agitated.
“Daniel, she’s a whore. Just let her go.”
He lifts his head and looks at me, affronted.
“Don’t you think I know she’s a whore? But, she was my whore.” He lays his head, back on my shoulder, as we continue our ride.
I pay the driver the fair, and put Daniel’s arm over my shoulders. He’s quite a bit taller than me, but I manage to get both of us up the flight of stairs to our place. I open the door and shove him onto the couch.
“You’re the best sister ever. You know that, right?” he says, cocked sideways in an awkward sitting position.
“Yep, I’m the best,” I say in a monotone voice and begin taking off his shoes.
“You save me from very flexible whores. You let me stay at your place to save up money. You cook and…clean…and…”
And, he’s out. The limp body of my very drunk, very sad brother is finally unconscious and now, I can go to bed. After tipping him over, so he’s lying across the seats, I pick his legs up onto the couch and throw a blanket over him. After the lights are out, I head toward my bedroom and fall into bed.
Morning arrives, and I wake with a pounding headache. I carefully pry my eyelids open to see the bright sunlight streaming in through my window. I didn’t have that much to drink last night, but there’s little doubt where my pain is stemming from: cheap beer. Gingerly, I sit up, covering my eyes as virtual daggers jab into them. I swing my legs out of bed and stand.
“Agh!” I exclaim, as my left ankle rolls to the side and buckles under my weight. I sit back down on the bed quickly. “Damn it,” I say, while taking my sock off and rubbing my ankle gently, trying to ease the pain. After a few minutes, I limp toward the bathroom in search of a bandage to wrap around it.
After wrapping it up, I hobble toward the kitchen and spy the, still sleeping, figure of my brother huddled under the blanket. He stirs as I begin making breakfast.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I say only to hear him moan in protest. “How’s your head?”
“I hate you,” he replies, and I laugh.
“Why do you hate me?”
“Because you didn’t get as shit-faced as I did, and you’re able to be upright.”
I laugh again.
“I’m not exactly upright,” I say, lifting my pant leg to reveal the bandage that’s tightly wrapped around my ankle.
“How’d you do that?”
“I stepped down on it and twisted it this morning. It’s really sore.”
“Well, I hope it’s broken.”
“Nice, Daniel. Really nice.”
“Only because you cost me Ashley,” he goes on to say.
“What are you talking about?”
“If you were any kind of good sister, you would’ve encouraged me to keep pursuing her.”
“Yeah, if I wanted you to catch something.” I snicker at my statement.
“Whatever. If you liked your amputee, I’d encourage you .”
“Daniel, he’s my client! That’s all. I can’t like him like that, even if I wanted to. And, I don’t.” I say the words, then sigh. I’m not sure why the thought of that barrier makes me sad. It’s not like anything would ever come of me and Logan Turner anyway.
I grab the two plates of
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