After I joined the military, Summer and I seemed to drift even further apart. There were occasional phone calls, and naturally, some visits home coincided with holiday events, but there was none of the deep bonding expected from twins during those years.
Our emotional regard for one another developed when we reached the benchmark of our twenty-fifth birthday. As adults, the subject of sex just never seemed to come up between us. We respected each other’s privacy and neither of us spoke openly about who we were dating, or just how involved we were with anyone.
When I came to live with her in Florida, it brought about a new sexual tension. For the first time in our lives, I began to see my sister as a woman. Seeing her in that light, as other men saw her, created a hunger in me. As her brother, it made things awkward at times.
Summer never gave any indication she was curious or interested in me in any way. She ignored my glances and comments for the most part. That is, right up until she grabbed my crotch. The more thought I gave to the incident, the more I believed her silence was caused by her annoyance with herself, rather than with anything I had said or done.
If that were the case, I decided it was time I grow up a little and treat her the same way I would treat any other woman I knew, with respect and dignity. That was going to be easier said than done.
Sisters are sisters, and women are women; it never dawned on me that Summer could be both. Besides, I didn’t take life too seriously in general. I lived by the philosophy that as hard as life is…it owes everyone a little spontaneity and fun. It’s difficult to be respectful and dignified while you’re having fun. But, for Summer, I was determined to give it a try.
It was late afternoon when we returned to the beach house. I was certain Summer was on the verge of never speaking to me again. She disappeared to her room for a while and reemerged with a cell phone to her ear when she heard the sound of the blender in the kitchen. She gave me a suspicious scowl when I handed her a tall, frothy juice drink and shooed her towards the deck. A moment later, I poked my head through the door and jangled her car-keys to let her know I was going out.
“Hang on,” she muttered into the phone. “Where are you going?” she asked impatiently.
“To the store. I thought I’d make dinner, but we’re out of everything. I won’t be long,” I promised.
She turned her attention to the caller on the line and ignored me. In fact, she ignored me for the remainder of the afternoon. She lounged on the deck, alternating between talking on the phone and reading while I worked diligently in the kitchen to prepare a simple but palatable meal for two.
It was dusk when I lightly tapped on her bedroom door and announced in a mock tone, “Dinner is served.”
She flung it open and my eyes widened with surprise. Summer must have showered and changed while I was busy in the kitchen. She looked as though she had stepped off the cover of a vintage magazine. Her long blonde hair was tightly pulled back in a ponytail, tied in place with a pink ribbon. The style matched the sundress she was wearing.