My Brother Was Destined To Be My Lover??

We grew up together as the best of friends, promising that nothing would ever be able to separate us. 

Now, we're total strangers to each other.

With a sigh, I got up and opened my locker to get clothes to change into after washing off the oily liquid coating my body from head to toe. I walked to the gym and hurried to the shower rooms, crossing my fingers in hope that they would be deserted. One look around proved that I was completely alone, as the seniors who had practice had just emptied the locker room. 

I cleaned and dried myself up then decided to go home, since I had already missed my last class. I always walked on my way home from school. It is during this time that I always imagine the old times I spent with my only brother. Those were the good times. He would sometimes carry me around when I got tired or buy me ice cream on days I wasn’t feeling well. That only made it more difficult to accept that all of those good times and memories are just that: only memories.

After walking dejectedly for almost twenty minutes, I reached home and unlocked the door with my key. I trudged up the stairs then hurried to enter my room. It's Wednesday, and normally my parents would still be at work at this hour. I guess they decided to skip work today, since I managed to catch a glimpse of them downstairs before I came up here. Maybe Mom is still suffering from that headache she had told us about last night.

I opened my door and put my school things on my study table and then I plopped myself on bed. It was as I lay on my bed musing about the day’s events that I heard someone crying. I sat up and walked to the bedroom door to get a better listen. But I soon found that I still couldn’t hear what was being said so I left my room quietly and crept to the top of the stairs, where I had a perfect view of my parents in the living room. My mom was crying on the phone. Why was she crying? Did someone die? Somehow, I had the feeling that wasn’t it. I was about to start going down towards them, but my mom started speaking again. So I stayed rooted to my spot.

"No, no. Please don't take her. We love her,” she pleaded with the person on the other end. I had never seen Mom so sad or as broken as she looked at that moment. My dad was standing off to the side, looking like he wanted to comfort her, but not knowing how. This conversation felt like it something I wasn’t supposed to be privy to, but I just couldn’t make myself go back to my room. A feeling of unease started growing in the pit of my stomach as Mom continued sobbing on the phone. 

“She’s like our daughter! She doesn't need you. We are her family now!" And with that, she slammed down the phone, effectively ending the conversation. There was a moment of silence, broken when she resumed crying into her hands. 

That was Dad’s cue. He strode over to her and took her into his arms. She clung to him, wetting his shirt with her tears. Gently, Dad rubbed circles on her back in a comforting gesture. They stayed like for a couple of minutes, until Dad pulled away slightly. 

"Who was that?" Dad asked anxiously, while wiping away the lingering tears on Mom’s cheeks. She sniffled, then cleared her throat several times to compose herself.

"That was Jennifer Danes. She was Stella's sister.” She paused, letting that statement sink in. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things, but when she said that, I could have sworn Dad’s face completely blanched. Mom continued talking, “She found out about Rachelle being living with us all these years. She wants to come for her. But I don't want Rachelle to be taken away from us. She’s like our daughter! I love her so much, and if Jennifer takes her away, I don’t know what I’d do!" Mom cried. 

I just stood at the top of the stairs in complete confusion. What were they talking about?

"This is what I was afraid of,” Dad finally said. “We may have her adoption papers, we may have taken care of her all of these years, but in the end, Jennifer is her aunt. They are still related by blood.” Dad’s face was downcast, his voice filled with surrender to the inevitable.