A Promise to my Stepbrother (11 page)

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Authors: Anne Burroughs

BOOK: A Promise to my Stepbrother
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28
Max

I
nstead of a big family holiday
, I went to visit Katie over Christmas. She was involved in some kind of art thing, and the artist wouldn’t give her time off for the holidays. I thought it was bullshit. Even I got time off for Christmas, and we were looking to win the national championship. Still, she was dedicated to art, and I couldn’t begrudge that. Being alone together would be better anyway. The last thing I needed was Mom and Dad interrupting in the midst of a conversation.

I had a very clear goal for my trip. I was going to apologize for what happened at the lake house four years earlier and everything since then. I was going to tell Katie just how much I loved and missed her, and I was going to ask her if we could put the past aside and look to our future—together. More than anything I wanted to let Katie know that she was the only person I ever wanted or needed to be with me.

I knocked on her apartment door, which generated a comment from a girl walking down the sidewalk. “She’s not home.”

“Do you know where she is or how long she’ll be?”

She looked me up and down. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m her brother.”

The girl's face lit up. “Katie has a brother?” She looked at me again. “I’m Chloe.” She walked up to me, and I shook her hand.

“Max.”

“You don’t look at all like Katie.” Her smile was kind of mischievous.

“She’s my stepsister.”

“Ah. Well, if you need a place to stay while visiting, I’m next door.” She winked, and I laughed. I was a swimmer where girls watched me all the time in nothing more than a tight pair of speedos. I was used to those kinds of comments.

“Thanks, but I’ll just stay with her, I think.”

“Oooh, kinky.” My face must have looked alarmed, because she quickly added with a smile, “Relax, Oedipus. She’s at the studio, posing for Phillip Waterford.” The way Chloe spoke the name Phillip Waterford made me think that he was some kind of big shot.

“Thanks, Chloe. Where’s the studio?”

“It’s that big red building over there. Through the big double doors and then the last door on the right.” I took a step, but she held up her hand. “But you should wait. You’re not allowed to interrupt art sessions.
Very
bad form. C’mon, you can wait with me.” She took my arm.

“You’re very kind, but I’m sure she won’t mind my poking my head in.” I slid my arm out.

“Oh, I’m sure
she
won’t mind, but Phillip will put your head on a platter.” She looked me up and down for the third time. “Then again, maybe he’ll just yell and scream at you.”

“I can deal with that.” Chloe shrugged and waved as I walked off to meet Katie.

T
he doors were unlocked
, so I just walked right in. The first thing I saw was this frenetic guy with a hammer and chisel working on a statue. I could tell right away it was Katie, and the likeness was amazing. It was only half done, but from the top of Katie’s breasts up the likeness was remarkable. As the Phil guy was going chink chink chink with his hammer I took a few steps to the right to see Katie.

She was kind of staring off into the distance to the right and didn’t see me. I couldn’t help but stare. She was completely naked, leaning forward. Her breasts were on full display between her arms. Her arms were between her legs, but I could see everything.

I wanted to stare at her forever. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But getting caught would have been a disaster, so I pulled myself away and quietly stepped back to the door. I then yelled out, “Katie, you around?”

The artist spun around, and I swore he was going to throw the chisel at me. “What the fuck are you doing?! This is off fucking limits, you idiot.”

“I’m here to see Katie.”

“She’s busy, fuckwit. What part of the sign that said you aren’t allowed in here did you misunderstand? Can you even fucking read?”

“Jesus, dude. Calm down. I’m her brother. I wanted to surprise her.” I took a few steps forward as Phillip at least quieted down a little bit.

“Max! Hold on, I’ll be there in a second!” There was a pause, and then she yelled out again. “I can’t believe you’re here!” At least
she
sounded happy.

Phillip must have realized that he was going to have to interact with me in some form or fashion more than yelling insults, so he walked over. I held out my hand, but he ignored it. “Give her a hug and get the fuck out,” he whispered. “We’ll see you later.”

Wait, did he say
we'll
see you later?

“Max!” Katie ran up. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I threw my arms around her.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered in her ear as we held our hug. I almost cried in happiness feeling Katie hold me tight. It was like we never wanted to let go.

“Jesus, Katie. He’s your brother.” It was at that exact point that my opinion of Phillip moved from dislike to hatred. I let go and we held each other’s hands. I didn’t know their relationship yet, so I was nice.

“We haven’t seen each other in months, Phillip.” I looked at him as Katie let go of my hands and walked over to him.

She put her arm around his waist, and my knees went weak. “Phil’s just jealous.”

Phillip shoved Katie’s arm aside and looked at her, disdain in his eyes. “What the fuck. He’s your brother, Katie. Why would I be jealous of him?” I was ready to punch him, but my anger died when I saw Katie’s response.

“Sorry, Phil.” Holy shit. Katie was always the passionate one. I saved her from getting in trouble so many times. She didn’t put up with anything. I remember her getting kicked out of class for correcting the teacher’s grammar, and then getting detention tacked on when she commented, “I don't believe you have an actual English degree.” But she looked positively cowed next to Phil.

“Phillip,” I said, through clenched teeth. He looked at me and squinted his eyes. “You push her like that again, and I'll break your fingers.”

His eyes went wide, but before he could say anything Katie rushed over to me. She looked pissed as she shoved me on the chest toward the door. “This is the last thing I need—two guys I care about trying to see who has the biggest dick.” Okay, that
did
sound like Katie. “Max, wait at my apartment. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. We can talk while Phillip cleans up the studio.” She pulled her keys out of her pocket and shoved them in my hand.

I looked back at Phillip, but he was already heading back to his sculpture. I nodded. “See you in a bit.”

I
entered
and immediately sat on the sofa in the living area facing the door. I waited.

About forty-five minutes later Katie walked in. Her face lit up when she saw me. I stood up and we hugged again. “You look great,” she said as she sat on an armchair. My heart fell a bit. I had hoped she would sit next to me on the sofa.

“So. Phil.” I said.

“Yeah, he’s kind of an acquired taste. Artists and all that.” She shrugged and then added, “He’s a genius.”

“He’s also a dick.”

“Max…” Katie lowered her head.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Max, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be the protective brother or the jealous boyfriend or the concerned friend.” She was twisting her fingers together between her legs, and her head was staring at the floor. She looked like the mirror of her pose back in the studio—sad, uncertain, tense.

“I’m all of those things, Katie.” I stood up. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Katie looked up at me, her eyes glistening. “Yes, he is. I’ve been seeing him for months. He’s passionate and talented and exciting.”

“He’s an asshole.” I started pacing. “You can do so much better than him, Katie.
He shoved you
.” Katie didn’t say anything. I stopped and stared at her. “Does he hit you? I swear I’ll kill him if he hits you.”

“No! He doesn’t hit me. He’s just difficult, Max. I mean, not everyone is as easy-going as you are.”

“Well, you deserve easy-going. Not a dick.”

“Drop it, Max.” Her tone had moved from upset to angry.

“No. I’m not going to drop it. I love you, and I’ve missed you. I want you to have the best of everything. Not this.” I waved my arms around the room.

“Oh, and I guess
you
are the best of everything? Is that it?” I didn’t reply, and I guess that was the wrong thing to do. “Oh, great. Did you run out of fuck buddies back in California, so you’ve finally agreed to slum it with me?” She stood up and shoved a finger in my face. “No, wait. I get it. I can’t be your fuck buddy until you get all the little pieces of your life in order, and I guess that means tossing my boyfriend out of the way. Is that it?”

“No.” I said in a near whisper. I backed up and lowered my head. “This is not going the way I wanted it to.”

“Oh, this is supposed to go the way you wanted it to? I’m so sorry to mess things up for you.”

“Please, Katie. Be quiet.” She stared at me, daggers in her eyes, but she was quiet. “Listen—I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and not that you’ll believe me, but fuck buddies weren’t one of them. But I
have
made mistakes. We don’t even have the time to list them all, but the biggest was how the day at the lake house ended.” I paused, but Katie’s face was emotionless. “I was afraid of what Mom and Dad would say. What my teammates would say. School.
Everything
.” I was trying to be strong, but I had to wipe tears from my eyes. “I love you Katie. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Can we just undo the last four years and start over?”

Her face didn’t change, and then she turned around. She spoke, her back to me. “You are such an asshole, Max.” I nodded but she didn’t see it. “I waited and waited, and then you started fucking that Erin.”

“I did not fuck Erin!”

She stared at me, clearly not believing my words. “Whatever, Max. The important thing is that when I was ready to give you another shot you stomped on my heart again.”

“I’m sorry…”

“NO!” She whirled around, and her cheeks was wet with the tears that were flowing from her eyes. “You do
not
get to be sorry. It is too late, Max. You broke every promise, and I can’t forget that.” She lowered her head. “I love you, Max. I always will, but you need to go find someone else. I can’t have you around me right now. Dammit, I thought I was over you, and now you do this. You are such an asshole.”

“I’m sorry, Katie. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well, you seem to have had a particularly good ability to do just that over the past few years.” I put my hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, and shoved my arm away. “I need you to leave. Go spend Christmas with Mom and Dad.”

She looked devastated, and I couldn’t refuse. She needed to be alone, and the fact that I both caused her hurt and the only solution was for her to be away from me filled me with an emptiness I didn’t think I could ever recover from.

I walked to the front door and paused as I put my hand on the doorknob. “I didn’t break every promise,” I said.

“Goodbye, Max,” she said, and I opened to door.

As the door closed behind me, I whispered, “I kept the important one, Katie,” but I don’t think she heard me.

29
Katie

A
fter I rejected his advances
, Phil became quiet and withdrawn around me. He didn’t seem angry so much as emotionless and cold. It was like he didn’t care about me anymore, and it drove me crazy.

Things got better, but he still kept me at a distance. It was as if he somehow knew exactly what would make me want him. With him ignoring me, I needed his attention. I hated myself for being weak, but I couldn’t help it. I needed this cold, emotionless, artistic, genius.

When he finally gave me the attention I wanted, it was entirely on his terms. I was tentative and unsure at practically every moment, not sure how far was too far. In the end, I just let him lead me.

We started to go out, and he would provide me with the bare minimum of affection, but I ate up every morsel. I knew that Phil was going to be the man I lost my virginity to. I just knew it. All I had to do was to wait for him to let it happen.

The trouble was Phil was truly obsessed with his work. I dropped plenty of hints that I was open to a passionate encounter. I touched him. I wore provocative clothing while we went out. He ignored all of it. I guessed that being nude in front of him every day made it difficult for me to make him interested in anything more.

The good news was that I shared his excitement in the impending completion of the statue. It looked amazing already, but Phil spent even more time with it. His attention to the smallest things drove me crazy. He worked on details of the sculpture, smoothing out one tiny edge here, carving a small line there. The entire time I remained naked on my seat while he worked. He was long past needing me to model, but he demanded that I continue, telling me that I was his muse, kissing me on the forehead.

I had to admit it was an amazing feeling fulfilling the role of his muse. There was no doubt he was an extraordinary sculptor. He had received attention from major galleries after his freshman year, and by the time we were seniors his future was assured, with rich people from all over offering him commissions. That he spent an entire school year on one sculpture of me was humbling.

So I gladly removed my clothes and sat and watched him carve, even though he ignored me nearly the entire time. I watched the attention on his face, and it reminded me why I put up with all the bad parts of his personality—his temper, his dismissiveness, his refusal to take any interest in my work. He was focused only on one thing: His art. I accepted that and looked forward to stable years ahead.

There was a clang and I looked up. Phil had dropped his tiny detail chisel and was staring at the statue of me. “Everything okay?” I asked.

“More than okay.” He wiped his hands on his pants and removed his work apron. “I’m done.”

I leapt up. “Oh Phil! I’m so happy for you!” I ran over and gave him a hug, my nude body drawing no attention from him as he held me loosely. I looked up and he was staring at the statue. I let him go and turned. The statue was beautiful. White marble lovingly crafted into… me.

I had been nude for so long that I wasn’t even embarrassed that it was me. Anyone who looked at it, would know the shape of my breasts, the curve of my hip, and even more intimate details. But it wasn’t me. It was better. It was a piece of art representing me, something that would last forever.

“Let’s celebrate!” I said, running my hand down Phil’s arm.

He turned and smiled. “Dinner at La Croix?” It was a small cafe where we ate occasionally. My heart leapt. He hated it for its pretension and its romantic atmosphere. That he recommended it told me that things were changing. I was really looking forward to an intimate celebration.

“Yes!”

T
he dinner could not have gone
much better. We had wine and reminisced about moments of our working together. I had never seen Phil so relaxed. It gave me hope for our future and reinforced my belief that I just had to be patient—he was an artist. I lifted my glass of wine and couldn’t help but get a little choked up as the candlelight glinted off his eyes.

“To our future. The artist and his muse.” Phil lowered his glass.

“I’m sorry, Katie. The sculpture is done.”

I felt my stomach tighten, and I had to put the glass down as my hand started to shake. “Wh- what?”

“I need to move on to a new muse.” He must have seen the shock in my face, as he reached out his hand and took mine. “Oh Katie, I’m sorry, but you should be happy. You were an
amazing
inspiration. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.” I pulled my hand away and stared at him. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

Phil shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, if you’re going to get sentimental you may as well just leave. You were part of something special. I’m not sure what the problem is here.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You’re not going to cry are you?”

“No, I’m not going to cry,” I answered, my voice strained.

“Look, let’s get dessert. We can go back to your place later and finally close this chapter by having the muse and artist coming together.” As if he thought I was too stupid to understand what he meant, he leaned forward and added, “I’m talking about sex. It will no longer be a distraction.” He smiled as if he was giving me a gift.

“A distraction?” I laughed. “I can’t believe I mistook your personality as being due to some kind of artistic quirk.” I pushed my chair back. “You’re not a crazy genius, Phil.” I stood up. “You’re just an asshole.”

I walked out, my steps stabbing the floor with the anger that boiled inside me. It was about a mile walk to my apartment, and I punched my thigh and cursed myself the whole way. I walked in the front door, closed it behind me, and then leaned back against it. The dark emptiness suddenly felt overwhelming. I sobbed.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and fell onto the sofa. I had nothing. My life was littered with emptiness, a few bad relationships with men, and awkward superficial relationships with women. As I tried to look for a lifeline to cling to only one name came to me. Would he be mad? Would he care? Did I want him to care?

I grabbed my phone and dialed Max.

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