Chapter 8
It's amazing how sex improved my life during that time. Me, who naturally had no desire to get out of bed, who spent entire days curled up in my room with that weight on my chest, when I masturbated or fucked, I could become functional again for a while. When I did it alone, it was like a weak dose—it relieved me right away, but the emptiness came back quick, in hours. When I fucked for real, with someone using my body like that, the good mood lasted for whole days. I'd wake up with energy, manage to study a bit, eat properly, even smile for no reason. Too bad that faded over time, my body getting used to it, needing more to feel the same.
After jerking off in my room, that quiet orgasm that left me limp and calm in bed, I took a cold shower to fully wake up. I put on my old clothes, tied my hair in my usual loose ponytail, and risked going to the living room. My brother was still there, playing video games on the couch, controller in hand, focused on the screen. I sat next to him, grabbed the second controller without asking, and we started playing together, something we hadn't done in months.
It was weird at first, but good. We talked about our lives, stuff we never really discussed properly. He complained about school, about friends who vanished when Dad traveled, about Mom calling all the time to check grades and pray over the phone. I listened, responded little, but for the first time I felt like he was suffering from some of the same things as me: the empty apartment, the divorce that messed everything up, the feeling of not really belonging anywhere. We made silly plans for the future—graduating, saving money, moving in together to a small apartment, just the two of us, looking out for each other, away from our parents' fights.
We went out to buy popsicles at the corner store in the complex, then took a walk on the beach, which was so close—we could see the ocean from the apartment window for months—but I'd never gone on foot, without being driven by Dad. The afternoon sun at the end of the day hitting hot, sand on our feet, wind messing up my hair. I felt light, almost normal.
Since sex was this new thing taking up my head, everything, I asked him about it in a roundabout way. Not straight up, of course—just tossed indirect questions, fishing in his answers. He said he hooked up with a girl from school and that was it, a little kissing here, hand there, nothing more. I listened closely, curious, but ended up having to talk about Fabiano. It was hard to explain how I took a guy to bed without even talking ten minutes to him, without knowing anything beyond his name. I skipped that part, just said I'd met him in the courtyard, that we'd hooked up, period.
The cool thing was him telling me he wouldn't tell anyone, especially Mom, and that if I wanted to go see Fabiano again, to talk with him, he'd cover for me if anything went wrong—he'd make up an excuse for Dad, say I was at a friend's house. In return, I said I'd help him with his girlfriends, give advice if he needed it. As if I had any experience in flirting, in being truly desired. But I said it anyway, and we laughed, eating the melting popsicles in our hands, looking at the sea. For a moment, it felt like we were just normal siblings, with each other's secrets, looking out for each other. And that left me with a quiet peace, almost as good as sex.
Almost.
When the sun went down, the wind started blowing cold from the sea, that humid air seeping through my thin t-shirt and giving me goosebumps all over. The contrast with the still-warm asphalt left me shivering all over, arms crossed over my chest as we walked back to the complex, sand stuck to our flip-flops. My brother wouldn't stop talking about the girl, excited, plotting with me a way to bring her to the house. That involved me calling her mom pretending to be my mom, making up some excuse to let her come over. Her mom probably wouldn't let her daughter go to a boy's house, all that protective stuff.
I looked at him without saying anything, just listening, arms squeezed tight against my body to ward off the cold. Of course, I didn't really agree with the idea anymore—lies from the start always go wrong, moms sense it in the air—but I didn't want him to know. I stayed quiet, looking at the ground, the wind messing up my ponytail.
Then at one point he got thoughtful, steps slower, staring off into the empty path back.
"I'm gonna tell you something, you promise not to laugh at me?"
"I promise."
"I have this fear of dying a virgin."
The tone was confessional, low, pathetic but with a morbid undertone, like he really thought his time was running out. I stopped walking for a second, glancing at him sideways.
"You think you're gonna die tomorrow or something, kid?"
He laughed awkwardly, but we both knew what that phrase really meant. It wasn't just about wanting to have sex, to lose his virginity soon. It was a declaration of loneliness, that feeling that nothing would ever happen, that we'd be stuck like this forever, invisible to everyone else, no one wanting to get close for real.
"Listen, I'll help you with the girl, but starting things off with a lie is tricky. Her mom will find out, moms always know. So, this isn't a good idea."
My brother wasn't dumb, he got it. But I knew he had a bit of me in him. I was withdrawn, quiet, kept to myself all the time. He was outgoing, extroverted, full of friends at school. But in the end, we both had trouble connecting with people, each in our own way. Him pushing too hard, coming up with plans to bring a girl home. Me... well, I'd already handled it my way, quick, no talk, no lies except silence. But that I didn't tell him. We walked the rest of the way quiet, the cold wind blowing, but with something new in the air: like we understood each other a little more, without needing to say everything.
I was the one who broke the silence of the walk.
"The upside of Dad finding you in the trash can is that we don't look much alike. Here's what you do: tell everyone you're my boyfriend!"
I grabbed his hand on the street, swinging our arms like I was showing off a real boyfriend, laughing softly as we walked back to the complex. The cold wind still blew, but it didn't give me chills as much now. I felt light, almost silly, like this was normal.
He laughed, that loud guffaw of his, and like always, to not be outdone:
"Yeah, deal! And I'll say I'm fucking you too, can I?"
"Jonathan! Run if you don't wanna die, kid!"
I let go of his hand right away, pretending to be mad, but laughing inside. The fake relationship had barely started and it already turned into a chase: me running after him down the sidewalk, arms raised to smack his back, him dodging and laughing louder, zigzagging to avoid it. We looked like two idiot kids, out of breath, faces red from the effort and the cold, but it was good. For the first time in a long time, I was laughing for real, without forcing it, without thinking about the emptiness that always came back after.
He stopped suddenly near the complex gate, hands up in surrender.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop! Boyfriends don't fight like that on the first day."
Inside the house, Dad had already gotten home from work, earlier than usual, and that was a problem for me. With him there, it'd be weird for me to go out to meet Fabiano, let alone bring him to my room again without anyone noticing. He looked at us with a doubtful face, a slight surprise at seeing the two of us in good moods, laughing about nonsense in the kitchen. He seemed happy about it, because he decided not to be a pain that night, even ordered delivery food, pizza or something, so we could eat together.
Sitting at the dinner table, my brother blurted out suddenly:
"Dad, can I date my sister?"
Dad jumped at the sudden question, fork paused in the air, and looked at me like he was assessing if it was real or not, and how much I was enjoying that stupid joke. I stayed quiet, looking at my plate, feeling my face heat up a bit, but embarrassed.
"Sure, but which one of you is gonna convince your mom that incest is cool?"
We all laughed, the three of us, a laugh that filled the dining table for a second. Mom would burn the house down with us locked inside if she heard even that joke, with all her religion, her fear of mortal sin.
Dinner ended quick, plates in the sink, and my brother said:
"Nicole, let's go? The gang's waiting for us!"
"You two, going out?"
Dad asked, eyebrow raised, but with a tone that seemed happy, like he was seeing us normal for the first time in months.
"Yeah, Dad, we just came back to grab some food..."
He nodded, without asking more.
I tried to figure out my brother's lie, but the little rascal already had a plan.
I cleared the dinner table, and we both headed out the door into the night.