Dinner was consumed and another awkward moment occurred when Mom asked me a question just as we were about to start clearing the dishes from the table.
"Billy," She said, "Did you clean Anita Browling's windows yesterday like you told her you would?"
I looked up at her, searching my memory banks again. I came up with who Anita Browling was easily enough. She was a divorced neighbor in her late twenties that lived two houses over. She'd split with her husband sometime around the time I was twelve or so and I remembered Dad giving vague explanations about how Mr. Browling had 'found someone else' and left her (for some reason my parents had assumed that Tracy and I would be upset by their DIVORCE). My parents had, for whatever reason, kind of adopted Anita after her husband left her. She used to come over for dinner once a week. She had two small children that Tracy was volunteered to baby-sit frequently. I was always volunteered to mow her lawn for her since she professed not to know how to run a mower, or to do other small tasks such as cleaning her windows. Both of us were forbidden to take any money from her for our services, a point of resentment that had drawn my sister and I together a little in our teens.
The image in my mind of her was of a slightly chunky woman with large breasts. She was a brunette with short hair and long legs. She would meet another man at about the time of my high school graduation. About the time I moved away from home she would marry him and disappear from Mom and Dad's lives. I remembered thinking back then that I wouldn't mind doing her. But she wasn't so attractive that you could admit to your peers that you would do her, if you can dig that. I also remembered how she used to watch as I mowed the lawn, always dressed in shorts and a loose fitting T-shirt. I remembered catching glimpses of her bra-clad tits when she'd bent over to pull a weed or something. My adult mind, which hadn't thought of her in years, suddenly realized that she'd been displaying herself for me. Had she been hoping for a little action from a teenaged boy?
Before I could follow that train of thought too far I came back to the original question. Had I cleaned her windows yesterday? I had no freaking idea if I had or hadn't. My mother was looking at me, awaiting a response.
"Uh… " I started, trying to think this through. Had I cleaned her windows?
"Bill?" Mom said, deepening her voice. "I told you the other day they were getting really dirty after the windstorm we had. You TOLD me you'd do it before it snowed again. "
"Uh," That gave me a little more information. I was a horrible procrastinator as a teen. Chances are I hadn't done it the first time I'd been asked. "Uh, no Mom. " I finally spat out. "Sorry. I forgot. "
"You forgot?" She asked.
"Sorry. " I squeaked.
"Billy, that is just so typical of you… " She began. Her lecture went on for nearly two minutes. I gave her uh huhs, and okays in all the right places, amazed that I still had the ability to do that after all these years. I sincerely promised that my first stop after school would be Anita Browling's house. Mom seemed satisfied. I found myself hoping that Anita would be home. I knew something that the other Billy didn't.
After dinner I went up to my room. I opened my backpack and pulled out my Algebra book. I found some blank paper and a pencil and then opened the book to the first chapter. I began studying.
Tracy had gone out somewhere after dinner and I heard her return about 8:30.
I continued to study as I heard her go to her room and slam the door. Downstairs the television was on as Mom and Dad watched whatever sitcom was on in the eighties. I could hear their sporadic laughter drifting up from time to time as well as muffled comments that I couldn't understand but were probably commentary on how TV wasn't the same as it had been a few years ago. I had managed to get a basic concept of the Algebra in the past few hours, working my way to the test questions of Chapter 2. The homework that had been assigned I'd finally figured out and completed.
With a headache behind my eyes I closed up my book and stowed it in my backpack. I still had assignments to complete in my other classes but I decided to catch them up tomorrow. I was studied out.
I changed into a pair of sweat pants from my dresser, wondrous at the fact that I was donning a piece of clothing that would not have even come above my thighs the day before my legs had\would get so much bigger. I put on the longest, baggiest T-shirt I could find and then walked downstairs, passing the living room without even drawing a glance from my parents. A moment of searching led me to a bottle of Tylenol in the kitchen cupboard. I grabbed three of them and then opened the refrigerator. I pulled out one of my father's bottles of Budweiser and stuffed it down the front of my sweats. The coolness chilled my skin but I ignored it. The T-shirt covered the large bulge the bottle made in my crotch. I dashed back upstairs and went to the door of Tracy's room.
Music was playing from inside. Rick Springfield this time. Jessie's Girl was the cut. Good old Rick. The former soap opera star turned singer who went after the easiest market to impress; teenaged girls, leading the way for Bon Jovi and other such musical travesties. Within two years, I was gratified to remember, he would fade into a land that was even beyond obscurity. The world would be better off for it I knew. I knocked on Tracy's door.
"What?" Came a voice from the other side.
Instead of answering I knocked again, not wanting to draw the attention of our parents.
The music turned down and the door creaked open about six inches, enough to allow me to see Tracy's impatient face. She was dressed in a long T-shirt that showed off her legs. Her auburn hair was loosened and falling around her shoulders. For the first time I marveled that my sister was very attractive. No wonder the college student had gone after her.
"What?" She hissed disgustedly at me.
"I need to talk to you for a minute. " I told her. "Can I come in?"
"About what?" She asked. "About that crap you were spouting today in school?"
"Yeah. " I nodded, seeing in her face that she was fearful about talking on that subject. "About that. "
She threw the door open. "Come in. " She said finally.
Her room was a pretty neat for a teenager. The bed was made, her books were all stowed in their proper places. Her dresser was cleaned off; all of her makeup in a little tray. The only clutter was the Rick Springfield album cover, which sat next to her stereo and her rumpled clothes that she'd recently removed. She shut the door behind me as I entered.
"Can I sit down?" I asked her as she sat on the edge of her bed.
She waved me impatiently to the chair next to her dresser. The same chair she'd been combing her hair at this morning. I pulled it out and planted myself in it. I pulled the beer out of my pants and set it on the desk. With an expert spin of the cap, it was opened. The three Tylenol went into my mouth and were washed down by the glorious taste of the cold beer. I sighed at the first swallow and quickly took another. Tracy watched all this without speaking, without even asking why I had one of Dad's beers.
"Say your piece and get out. " She told me. "I wanna listen to the rest of this album. "
For the second time that day I interrupted her music by unplugging the stereo. Rick managed "I wishh IIIII haaaaaaaad JJ… " And then stopped, his voice deepening to silence.
"You dick!" She proclaimed. "Why did you… "
"Tracy listen to me for a minute. " I interrupted. "I know you're expected to act a certain way in the presence of your younger brother. You're expected to treat me with contempt in order to show how superior you are. I concede your superiority, okay?"
"What?" She asked, wide-eyed.
"Your friends are nowhere around and I won't tell them that you actually allowed me in your room, allowed me to shut off your precious Rick Springfield album. You can go back to treating me like shit as soon as I leave here but for now I need you to listen very carefully to me and to remember what I'm about to tell you. If you could drop the snotty attitude for a few minutes I'd appreciate it greatly. "