Being Sheila’s brother



 
Shelia doesn’t have to make me lover her the way she does with other men.
I loved her from the day I first saw her when we were kids and never stopped.
The problems is she never loves me back no matter how hard I try.
I know everything there is to know about her: he likes, her dislikes, even her moods.
I know what she will wear before she wears it, if the sun is out, if it is cold or hot.
Shelia likes me well enough, but if I hear her say “like a brother” one more time I’ll scream.
Still, I’ve gotten used to the role, seeing myself as her personal servant as she gets on with her life’s ambition of taunting other men.
In grammar school, she teased boy with a slap and a stuck out tongue, but by high school she knew more subtle ways of torture, letting boys go so far because she cut them off.
She tortures me by introducing me as her brother.
Sure I should get on with my life and found another girl to love me... But I’m that infatuated with her. I can’t just cast her into the closet of dusty memories.
So I cling to her heals like he dog, always around to get her out of trouble when he ways can’t stop a man. Sometimes, I sit up with her when she gets too drunk or high.
More than once I’ve even saved her from herself, there in time to call the ambulance before the pills kick in or the gas overcomes her – once even before her wrists bled so much as to kill her.
I’ve kept silent for years about how I feel about her. I always hoped she would notice and ask me, but she never did.
So when I decided finally to tell her, I really had to work my way up to it.
Okay, I know all about he reputation, how people think she’s cheap and all.
This isn’t a surprise to me since I’ve been around her for so many years and seen it all, and it strangely makes her more endearing to me.
I know how much she needs me even if she doesn’t know it yet.
So one day, I blurt it out, saying everything I always meant to say.
When I’m done, she just stares.
She doesn’t say anything for so long, I’m sure she hates me for it.
Then she sighs, pecks my cheek with a kiss, and says, “I love you, too, Lenny. Now will you be a dear and get my dress out of the closer for me? I’m late for my date.”
Needless to say, I won’t make the same mistake again.
Being Sheila’s brother is better than being nobody to Sheila at all.
 
 
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