Page 31 of Property of The Grump

Kade

Seven Years Ago

She’s snuggled up behind me, her body so close to mine that I can feel the crease in her thighs.

I need an intervention. I need to act normal. I need to stop staring at her, fantasizing, wondering what she’d feel like bouncing down on my cock, imagining what she’d taste like scrubbing that sweet. little pussy against my tongue.

Fuck.

This isn’t right, and I need to get a grip on my life before I come unhinged. I need to rid myself of these thoughts and find some self-control before I lose it completely.

My first, best distraction comes into view when I see my mom on the front porch rocking in her chair with a glass of tea. It’s hard to believe she raised two kids in this two-bedroom, one-bath Shaker house. That one bathroom was the prize. Someone was arguing with someone every day about how much time was allowed to be spent inside.

“Oh my God,” Wren says, climbing off the bike to make her way toward my mom. “You have the cutest front porch. I’ve always wanted a house like this.”

“You need bigger dreams,” Mom laughs, her hands shaking as she hugs Wren, and then me.

It’s a warm feeling being up here where I grew up… even warmer being here with Wren. I shove away that feeling and follow the ladies through the screen door and into the old house that sits on an acre of land just off the main road. This single house has raised my family, my mother’s family, and her mother’s family. Someday, all this will be mine as well, though I don’t know what I’ll do with it given my life is at the church. I’d hate to see it ever leave the family.

“You’re making spaghetti,” Wren says, drawing in a deep breath. “My scones will be perfect for dessert.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Mom adds, already giving her the tour of the house that smells like garlic and butter. “I’ll show you Kade’s old room before we head into the kitchen. He shared it with his sister.”

“Oh,” Wren brightens and glances toward me. “I didn’t know you had a sister. Does she live in town?”

“No, she died when she was sixteen.” My mother strings her arthritic hands through her apron strings as she talks. “She and Kade were twins. That’s why he became a priest. Didn’t he tell you this?”

“No.” Wren shakes her head, her brows downturned with empathy. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been insanely difficult. How did she… I mean… maybe I shouldn’t ask. Sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“No,” my mother brushes Wren’s shoulder gently, “don’t be sorry, dear. I like it when people ask. It makes it feel like her life mattered. I hate when folks just look away and apologize.”

There’s a pause before Mom starts speaking again, and I wonder if she’s going to burst into tears. It’s been a while since she’s talked about this, at least as far as I’m aware.

“My daughter was the sweetest girl. She had straight A’s, always super kind to everyone she met, a fun-loving, life-of-the-party kind of person.” Mom stares up at the picture of Bree thathangs in the hallway. She’s wearing her favorite black dress and matching black boots, her hair braided in two long braids, a big smile plastered on her face. That photo was taken not long before she passed, and though she looked healthy, she was not.

“Bree loved animals. She was always picking up strays and befriending the ducks at the pond. The girl was a sweetheart, but… she got mixed up with the wrong people.” Mom wets her lips as she speaks, the sound coming out as though the corners of her mouth are filled with cotton. “She started doing drugs. We tried getting her help, but it only got worse, and she was gone within two years.”

Mom sighs heavily as Wren leans into her for a hug.

“Anyway,” she continues, “that’s why my boy decided on the priesthood. To honor his sister and help atone for her sins. He reminds God every day what a good person Bree was.” She tilts her head to the side. “I know God knows, but having your twin brother enter the priesthood to honor your life has to give her soul an extra point or two, right? Just in case.”

Wren nods and glances toward me as though she feels the pain gathering in the room. “She sounds like a lovely person. I’ve always said you can trust people who love animals.”

Mom smiles and squeezes Wren’s hand. “Yes, that’s exactly right. I’d have animals myself, but I’m too old to take care of them these days.” She steps into my bedroom and flicks on the light, diverting her mood back to something lighter. “This is Kade’s old room. I’ve left it just as he did, band posters and all.”

“Oh God,” I groan, following behind. “Mom, come on. Wren doesn’t want to see my old room.”

“Honeybun, I’m sure she wants to see where her favorite priest grew up. You’re practically a celebrity in town.”

“Yeah, honeybun.” Wren grins that sweet, devious grin that I want to kiss over and over again. “I want to see where you grew up.”

Sighing, I step into the small room where my mother has preserved the nineties like a time capsule. Metallica posters and a desk with an open Bible, scriptures highlighted. The shelf lined with horror movies and Street Fighter figures collecting dust.

“You like Metallica and Freddy Krueger?” Wren says, glancing back toward me with judgment. “You’re a priest. I figured you’d listen to Bob Dylan and watch wholesome movies, like the ones on that religious channel with all the horses.”

“Nope!” I laugh. “You’ve had quite the opinion of me, though. Hairy chest, pleated slacks, bald head, Bob Dylan, and horse movies.”

“It makes sense.” Wren shrugs, and my mother takes her by the hand to guide her out of my room. “I can’t watch that scary stuff either. It scares the bejesus out of me.”