Article: 178615 of talk.bizarre
From: (Matt Brown)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Women and Boys 7
Date: 1 Dec 1994 18:25:03 GMT
Organization: FTFTFTFTS, INc.
Lines: 56
Message-ID: <>
Reply-To: (Matt Brown)
Originator: mattb@techpubs
Status: O

After, she thought about her brother. Seven. Dark blond. Freckles. Brat.
Imp. Sweetie. She remembered the time he ran into her room when lightning
hit the shed that night. He shivered for an hour under the covers with her.

She could hear his voice braying at her the first day she went to school,
how he made fun of her to cover his own jealousy and isolation. The fights
they had over silly stuff. Turf wars. Parent favor wars. 

"Jeremy did it"
"No, Sarah did it!" 

Silly stuff.

Then it would always come, blanking out everything else. That fall day
on their bikes. The race she won, weaving between parked cars and over flower
beds, down Hadley Street. to the Gillen's driveway. 

"You cheated!" 

"Did not!"

"You jerk!"

"Stay away from me." as she pushed off to pedal home.

He followed. "Jerk!"

The shove.

The shove back harder.

The shove back even harder. The wet leaves. His fall. The R. G. Hines 
Furniture Delivery truck. His bike bouncing away. The look on his face. 

She had covered her eyes and stood still. Unmovable. She stood there, 
soundless, frozen, until her parents came, and her mother whispered in 
her ear and tried to get her to move her hands, and step away from her 
bike, and ride to the hospital with them. 

Now, lying back, she looked at this guy, 20 years younger than she, caramel
blond, his head on her chest, asleep. The storm played itself out on the
window shade, fewer flashes than before. Somewhere inside there had been
a flicker, that if she tried again, gave of herself one more time, she 
might find him, lost to her all the years. Just to say ... something.

But no. Nothing. No spark. No feeling. No response when she had whispered
"Jeremy" in his ear, except for a grunt. She knew that she would lie here, 
empty and cold, for several hours, seething, before drifting into dream sleep. 
She would deal with this one in the morning.

Only 1600 shopping days left until the millenium