Michael Smith: Siblings

My sister looked over and stared at my profile for several seconds before asking, "Michael,… why aren't we like that?"

My thoughts had been running along the same lines. "You mean, why don't we detest each other, the way everyone else we know does?" She smiled slightly and nodded. "Alex, I don't know. But I'm glad it's different with us."

"Me, too." She squeezed my arm, just a little.

"Maybe," I continued, "maybe we're just different from everyone else, period. I mean, how many people do we know who would even be talking about this? We've always gotten along pretty well – haven't we? Is that abnormal for brothers and sisters? Or maybe we just left that stuff behind quicker than most people."

Alex was nodding her head. She looked at me again and smiled. "Maybe we're emotional geniuses…"

I snorted and we went on. After awhile we found ourselves stepping from ledge to ledge up a hillside trail. There was a series of broad slate shelves to one side near the top of the hill, screened from above by scrub and juniper, which had obviously been left as a bench for climbers. You could see most of the park from there, as well as the trail we had climbed. It seemed like a good place to sit and talk, which I think we both unconsciously wanted to do.

I sat and stuck my legs out, flexing my knees. I needed to get this kind of exercise more often; except for swimming, maybe I was becoming too "bookish." My sister stepped up on the ledge just behind mine, sat down, and leaned her chin on my shoulder. It was an affectionate gesture and I liked it. But her question wasn't what I had expected.

"Michael, how do you feel about me?"

I considered for a moment, but I wasn't sure what she was really asking. "You mean, do I like you more than that kid likes*his* sister? Sure."

"Well,… no – not exactly."

Her voice had an odd tone. I started to turn to look at her but she quickly laid her hand atop my head and prevented it.

"Don't look at me!" she added, so I didn't. "I mean, uh,… um,… Michael, do you love me?" It came out in a rush.

I hadn't had a chance to thing of a good answer so I said the first thing that came into my head. "Of course, I love you, Alex. You're my sister and I care about you a lot."

Her cheek was next to my ear and I could feel her smile. Then she surprised me again: She kissed me on the cheek and quickly sat back. She had kissed me before, when I gave her a birthday present or did her some kind of favor, but somehow this was different. I motioned for her to move down beside me, which she did. Then I put my arm around her neck, my hand dangling loose over her shoulder, and I studied her.

"So? Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

She shrugged, a bit embarrassed, and reached up to lace her fingers through mine. "I don't know,… I just wondered…" I continued to look at her expectantly so she went on.

"Well, that girl looked so unhappy awhile ago, and I was thinking that I'm usually*happy* around you, and,… well, I just wondered."

Then I surprised myself. I leaned over and kissed her at the corner of her eye. She was startled and put her other hand up to touch the spot. I knew that most guys my age would rather eat dirt than kiss their sisters, but it felt like something I wanted to do, and I realized immediately that I had enjoyed it.

Alex was my sister, yes – but she was also a very pretty girl, and I definitely liked girls. Also, she was my very best friend, barring no one. I had warm feelings toward her on all accounts, and I had reason to think she felt much the same way about me. How long had I felt this way? For as long as I could remember. Looking back, I can see that we were unusually mature emotionally, and I can offer no explanation for that.

Because Alex was right: We had never fought, the way most siblings did. We argued, often heatedly, but we never sank to name-calling. If we stomped off in opposite directions after a spat, we always felt guilty soon afterward and sought each other out to be the first to apologize.

I'm not sure our parents were aware of any of this, either. As I've said, we were the objects of benign neglect in most matters, and we made up our own social and psychological norms. We played together when we were little, we shared our toys with almost no arguments, we took each other's part automatically in dealings with other kids (like the famous incident with the Three Bullies) – we cooperated to what was undoubtedly an unnatural degree. It wasn't an attitude or a relationship we arrived at by forethought; it just seemed to be a part of our emotional makeup.

All our lives we had been close, but now we were both growing up. I was becoming acutely aware that there was a female body under the jeans and sweatshirts and – also unusual – I didn't feel guilty or even strange about the realization.

In retrospect, I believe my sister also had a crush on me. I was beginning to catch her watching me unobtrusively with an expression of vague longing. At the time, I just thought she was acting a little oddly. Certainly, I had a matching crush on her; I simply didn't recognize it.

I know I wondered at the time if our relaxed companionability was a "phase" that would end, if we would soon be at each other's throats like everyone else. I hoped that wouldn't happen. I was really beginning to consciously enjoy and appreciate my sister's friendly presence, taken so long for granted. I liked living with someone so similar in appearance, style, and tastes to myself, someone I could talk to about absolutely anything without being jeered. Someone so cute, too. And I didn't think of any of this as "wrong." It was just the way we were, and the fact that we recognized so early that we were different seemed to isolate us even more from our friends and classmates. It drew us more closely together.

I had my friends, Alex had her friends, and we shared a few friends. But then there was "Alex-and-me," and that was like a third person in which each of us shared half the responsibility.

We sat there on the rock ledge by the trail, thinking much the same thoughts and reaching the same conclusions. Alex snuggled a little closer and leaned against me, and I replied by putting my arm around her and squeezing her in a soft hug.

"Michael," she said softly without looking up, "I'm lucky to have you for a brother, aren't I?" She paused and the tenor of her voice saddened. "This probably can't go on, you know that, don't you? What's going to happen to us?"

"It'll go on as long as both of us want it to, Alex." It was what I hoped, not what I knew. We were still very young and hope comes easy at that age.

Alex turned sideways to face me. "Would it be too strange if I kissed you? I mean, on the mouth?"

"Not to me it wouldn't be."

She reached up to my cheek as I spoke and I put my hand on the back of her neck. I felt warm and tender toward her at that moment, but it wasn't exactly "romantic." Neither was it consciously sexual. More like a deliberate emotional bonding.

Our lips met hesitantly. Neither of us had really done this before with anyone – in cold blood, so to speak. But we gained confidence quickly. That first real kiss between us lasted maybe thirty seconds and it was careful and gentle and exploratory, and it felt so very, very nice. And so entirely natural, as if it were destined. Neither of us had second thoughts.

When our lips parted we simply sat and gazed at each other, our hands still in place. It certainly felt like a "magic moment" but neither of us was quite sure why.

I date my love for Alex, for my beautiful and perfect sister, from that moment. I wasn't aware of any kind of emotional watershed at the time, of course. But, looking back, that kiss was when our attitudes and feelings toward each other began slowly to crystalize. When I told that to Alex, years later, she simply nodded in agreement. Our first deliberate kiss, she said, was like being thirsty and "taking a long drink from a cool well." She felt the unexplainable difference, too. And things were never the same for us again.