I’m only human.
On my way to work I make a mental note to save some money so I can buy her a robe... with full coverage.
~
The temperature has dropped since our arrival at the shelter this morning, so we walk quickly. This is our Christmas tradition now. Emily asked that we visit last year as a way to remember her mother. Now, I see how lucky we truly are with what we have. There are so many who have nothing. Our home may lack many of the modern conveniences and technological advances of most, but we are healthy, bellies full, and we have a roof over our heads. Helping to serve dinner and visit with the shelter patrons is a way for Emily and me to pay it forward.
We don’t exchange expensive gifts. Instead, I always get her a new kitchen gadget from the Dollar Store, and she always bakes me butterscotch cookies. It’s not much, but it’s meaningful and the only thing that counts to us.
As my arm swings with the rhythm of my feet, I brush Emily's fingers with my own. It’s an innocent accident, though the sudden warmth in my chest is anything but. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep up this ruse, playing her brotherly protector. While Emily has never spoken about boys in her class or voiced interests of the romantic sort, I know it’s inevitable. She has blossomed into a beautiful creature who has no idea of the devastation her beauty wreaks upon me and, surely, the boys around her. Her smile is infectious, and it’s only a matter of time before a suitor comes knocking at our door. I kind of feel sorry for the poor boy, as my first time meeting him will most likely be ugly. I’m a fierce guardian where Emily is concerned, not just because it’s my duty to protect her but because seeing Emily with another guy will end me.
I want to reach out and take her hand in mine as we walk, but I don’t. I have calculated the difference in our ages. Five years doesn’t seem all that much when she is twenty and I’m twenty-five. However, she is seventeen and still a minor, which is the only important difference, no matter how hard my libido begs to differ. I have to prepare for her to have romantic feelings for someone her own age, not a twenty-two year-old guy who has to act like her older brother.
Sisters rarely hold hands with their brothers.
~
"Why don’t you go out on dates?" Emily suddenly asks in the middle of New Year’s Day dinner. She insists on serving black-eyed peas because they are lucky if you eat them on the first day of the year. They taste like shit, but as usual, I humor her by eating them.
"Huh?" I stall. She’s familiar with my deliberate stall tactic and narrows her eyes at me.
"I’ve never seen you with a woman." She pauses, like she’s unsure how to broach the next part. “I mean, you’re a good looking guy. There have to be opportunities for you to go out..." She stops and takes a deep breath as if preparing herself for my answer.
"Uhhh..."
Yep.
"Never mind, Ethan. I can tell it’s not a topic you want to talk about."
With that, she leaves the table and her half-eaten plate and heads for the bedroom, one of her only options for privacy . The door closes and I’m left feeling more confused than ever. I’m learning that girls are confusing, especially where Emily is concerned.
~Celebrate~
"Happy anniversary!" Emily yells at me as I exit the bathroom having just completed my morning ritual. She’d be disgusted if she knew everything it entailed, not to mention the full coverage robe I was supposed to buy, which means Emily still walks around in tiny towels. Of course, I spend extra time in the shower stroking out my morning wood so that I’m able to have some semblance of decency the rest of the day. Walking around with an Emily induced boner would certainly make our situation uncomfortable.
While the topic of dating and relationships hasn’t been broached since January, that doesn’t mean it has gone away. Instead, it’s been the elephant in the room for eight long months.
"Is there an anniversary song?" Emily asks jokingly. "There’s one for birthdays." She starts singing Happy Birthday, replacing “birthday” with “anniversary.”
I can’t help but smile given the joy the woman before me holds for the simplest of things.
"It’s two years today, Ethan; two years ago you came over and opened my window, two years since you recognized I was alone and in need. Two years ago you opened your home and heart to a perfect stranger."
When she says heart quieter than the rest, mine skips a beat.
Her voice wavers at the end of her speech, indicating tears are about to follow. I reach out to her, pull her into me, and hold her tightly as she surrenders to the sadness. This is the only touch I’m allowed—the only appropriate embrace.