Date: Mon, 20 Aug 2007 06:17:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Matt Wess <cow91387@yahoo.com>
Subject: Double E: Part 2

      My mother's maiden name was Doyle, a name that goes back to the
late eighteenth century, when gristmills and sawmills and forges were
dotted among the rolling acres of farmland.  She grew up on Mountainside
Road, which is right outside the town we currently live in.
      Our original residence was a brown stone converted apartment
building and stood near the lawyers building on 5th Street, not too far
from St. Joseph's, where my mom's parents were buried.  A school wing was
added in 1942.
      When my mother was enrolled at St. Joseph's, there were still
mostly nuns on the staff.  But by the time their first child, Seamus,
enrolled it was evident that the teachers were almost all members of the
laity, and the school had dominated the stone-wall church, which still
stood, but was used rarely.
      Now only Eliot, Genevieve and I were left at St. Joe's. I was, of
course, bringing up the rear, having just finished my sophomore year and
ready to start junior.  Eliot and Genevieve were more than ecstatic to
start their final year in "hell".  Hell meaning home and school, of
course.
      My parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if my siblings
told them anything offensive about not only home life, but school as
well.  They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my
mother.  Her intentions were to send us to St. Joseph's, which is a
private school.  You know - with the uniforms, strict rules, and homework
that was liable to literally cause your death.  In any case, I overheard
her saying to my father once, when we lived back in the apartment that a
private school would be fitting for us - she did not want her children to
end up as hooligans...
      Somewhere along the way that plan failed.  I think it's because of
the private school strictures that we all longed to burst away from that
caused most of our demise.  My parents still saw a ray of hope in me, as
they should.  Like I said before, I was the peace keeper in the house,
the mellow one, not nearly as radical as my other siblings.
      Anyway, it was around two-thirty, I guess, when Eliot and I had
finished picking out three different patterned ties to accompany our
uniforms that we order through the school.  I wasn't tired, though, so I
meandered around the congested mall walk-ways, peering through the
windows for a while.
      Eliot came from behind me griping about shopping.  Then he said,
"Where the hell is everybody?  I mean, how much school shopping is there
to do?"  I didn't even bother to answer him.  I was trying to learn not
to say much when he was angry.  If I wasn't wary about my homework
killing me, I was cautious about Eliot's raging temper.
      He tugged on my sleeve.  "Look," he said.  My eyes shoot to a girl,
about Eliot's age.  She's small, wearing tan clam diggers, her breasts
outlined in the soft skin of her white blouse, nipples pointing straight
out.  She's leaning forward, adjusting her foot in the pumps that matched
the outfit.
      Our eyes follow her as she straightened up, casting her blonde hair
behind her shoulder.  I felt a sense of brother bonding time as we
continued to watch Blondie turn on her heels, a dollar bill fluttering
from her back pocket to the ground...

That night Eliot had a date with the wonderful Blondie we saw in the
mall.  Her name was Georgina Cloves.  He saved her from losing one
dollar, how could she resist his heroic deed?
      Eliot worked quickly, and was so keen to pick up a woman, that I
had to admit, it disheartened me from perusing my objective to find out
his true sexual orientation.  I tell myself repeatedly that something is
there, but in the back of my mind I know I was just trying to convince
myself of something that wasn't true.
      It was a mild autumn night, a wind playing the occasional sharp
sound of someone slamming a door or closing a window.  I lay across the
couch, trying to avoid another quarrel between Genevieve and my mother.
My grandmother passed, humming a happy song to herself, noticing
nothing.  I was half asleep, but opened my eyes now and again to make
sure I hadn't accidentally fallen asleep.  Bliss and confusion joined
forces in such a way they caused no trouble but merely sunk my mind into
a welcome nonchalance.  The next thing I knew the evening shadows that
once stretched the length of the room had now vanished.  The yelling
ceased.  And all was dark around me.
      I stood up, clear-headed and steady.  It had to be at least a
quarter past one.  Outside was dark and a light rain that tapped against
the windows could be heard throughout the whole house.  I crept like a
thief upstairs to the living room, but on my way across the foyer, the
tiniest noise stopped me in my tracks.
      The front door was creaking open.  I was only five feet from it.  A
chink of moon light flooded the rug as the door opened more.  Where we
being robbed?
      Heart beating at the prospect that I would be the first victim of a
heinous crime; I stumbled backward away from the opening door.  I knocked
my leg on the coat rack, swearing at the pain.  Before I could register
more pain, a figure noiselessly swooped down and wrapped his hand around
my mouth, muffling my gasp.
      "Shut up, shut up!" a familiar voice panted in the darkness.  Just
by the minimal moon light that seeped in fragments into the foyer, I
could make out the gleaming eyes looking down at me.
      "Eliot!" I exclaimed into his hand.  I angrily ripped away from his
grasp.  "What the hell are you doing?  You scared the crap out of me!"
      "Shut up," he snarled again, but stopped talking, and I knew why.
I heard the same thing at the precise time he had.  A howl of cats came
from a near-by yard, and a dustbin lid clattered onto cobblestones.  Then
a meek voice called out, "Ruby! Is that you?"
      Eliot and I were frozen to our spots in the foyer, breathing
silently.  The steps directly above our head creaked under the weight of
my descending grandma.  Without waiting another second, Eliot seized my
wrist and dragged me into the adjacent room, moments before the foyer
light flickered on.
      I peered around the corner.  My grandmother was standing at the top
of the stairs, her wrinkled hand on the banister.  "Ruby!" she called
again, stepping down one step.  Despite the fact that she was completely
senile, my grandmother ran a strict household when my mother failed to.
Curfew was midnight.  She could put two and two together if she saw us
fully dressed and out of bed, even though I had an alibi.
      Eliot was thinking along the same terms.  Behind me he had silently
slipped out of his pants and now stood in his undershirt and black boxer
briefs.  Even under the circumstance, I could not help but to size him up
and take in every curve of his body.
      He shoved his clothes behind a couch pillow.  "Adios, amigo," he
murmured and emerged into the foyer, yawning.  "I see you couldn't sleep
either, grandma," I heard Eliot saying.
      "I thought I heard Ruby..." her voice drifted off.
      "Oh, right, right, Ruby.  Yeah, I saw her run with some neighboring
cats.  Probably hunting.  I'm sure she'll be home later.  Well, I'm going
to try and hit the hay, again.  Goodnight," he said, in an unnaturally
polite tone that he only used with her.
      I heard him head up to his bedroom, abandoning me.  I quickly
followed his suit, noting once again, my brother acted hastily and
succeeded.  Noiselessly, I slipped out of my jeans and shirt, stuffing
them behind another pillow.
      By the time I rounded the corner, my grandmother was staring out
the screen door.  She must have sensed my presence, because she turned
suddenly.  "You too, Elijah?" she asked.
      "Er..." was all I managed.  With both feet already on the steps, I
was destined to get to my room without being further interrogated.
      "You couldn't sleep either?" she said, shutting the front door
lightly.  Grandmother Flora was healthy for her seventy-six years.  She
had good bone structure, curly salt-and-pepper hair, a hefty figure, and
good legs.  Her hands were also very shapely, with long fingers, but red
and roughened from hard work and the strong solutions she once used as a
practical nurse.
      "Oh, right - yeah, no, I couldn't sleep much," I half-lied, giving
a great fake yawn, "Eliot and I were just sitting around watching
television."
      Either my grandmother was too worried about Ruby, or too tired to
be inquisitive, I will never know.  I was relieved when she started up
the stairs with me, making a comment about Ruby's safety.  We slipped out
of the foyer and to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging
up through the house.  On the third landing, my grandmother bid
goodnight, stepping into a dark bedroom.
      I climbed to the next flight, where there was more life.  At the
one end was Genevieve's room and directly to my right was Eliot's.  I
could hear him brushing his teeth in the bathroom across the hall.  I
pushed the already half closed bathroom door open more, leaning against
the doorframe.
      Eliot was bent over the sink, splashing water on his face.  He
caught my reflection in the mirror and slowly turned off the faucet.
"Yeah?" he snapped, burying his face in a towel.  Once again, I could not
help but to notice how his tight boxer briefs gripped his thighs, and
outlined his butt.  Was the guy currently with his back towards me really
straight?
      "Did you have a good time on your date with Blondie?"
      "Does it sound like I had a good time?" he shot back.
      "How the hell should I know?  You always sound like this."  Eliot
gave me a look that rendered me completely annoying.  He shoved by me,
leaving me to shut off the bathroom light.  I casually followed him into
his room.
      Eliot had a large room.  Once upon a time the room was a lot
smaller, when he had to share it with Seamus.  But now that Seamus was
gone, my mother had dismantled his bed and put it in the attic.  Now,
Eliot had this decently spacious room.  The same went for Genevieve when
Rhapsody moved out.
      "She insisted that we take her car tonight," Eliot raged, folding
back his bed coverings.  "She wanted to take me to this show that she
thought I would like."
      "Tell me it was another, cheesy Tim Allen movie," I smirked.
      Eliot did not bite into my humor.  "It was 'protect the
environment' crap, mixed with 'animals are our friends, not food.'"
      I winced.  "Sorry to hear that..."
      He cut across me, as usual.  "And so we take her car to this lousy
show, not only do we get lost on the way there, but we get lost on the
way back and her effing car breaks down.  I would have been home two
hours earlier if I would have driven."
      "At least she was good looking," I offered, trying to be the
optimist.
      "The type of girl any guy would be willing to touch," Eliot
agreed.  "Except she has Catholic morals, meaning she always keeps at
least eight inches between her and other guys.  Speaking of those pesky
Catholics, do you think mom will make us go to church tomorrow morning?"
      "If not her - grandma will."
      "Fantastic," Eliot grumbled.  He flipped onto his side, pulling the
blankets up over him.  "Hit the lights on your way out," were his final
words as I backed out of his room.
      As I ascended up the stairs to me room, I knew I would never bother
to tell Eliot that I was rather happy that his date had failed.  Maybe it
wasn't Georgina's fault that they weren't compatible, I reasoned,
climbing into bed.  Maybe, just maybe, Eliot felt more comfortable around
guys than he did with girls.
      Or perhaps I was just beating my head against a straight, stone
slab that was not about to break any time soon.  I close my eyes,
listening to the continuation of the rain, now heavily beating against my
window, blissfully unaware of the horror that tomorrow would bring.