My Brother’s Girlfriend

I remember the first time I met her. It was spring then, and the air was dry. Leaves from before winter became crisp again, and glided around in our driveway. It had been around six months since my brother Everett was pronounced missing. I was back in school, and mom was back at work. Everyone had returned to their normal routine, but things weren’t actually normal. My father, who never stopped working through the whole ordeal for instance had now become completely engrossed in his new hobby of going out and drinking late. I, who would normally stay in my room most of the day found myself going out more often too. Thinking back now, I feel awfully terrible for my mother. Her husband was going out and getting drunk, and I was sneaking out and trying to do the same. She had already lost one person she loved, and now those she had left were taking longer and longer trips outside of the confines of our home.

It was an odd time. On the outside, we three looked like we were tired. Like when Everett left all of our energy went with him, but that isn’t what happened. All of that liveliness just manifested in other aspects of our lives. Each one of us, you could tell, was thinking of it. Always; and you could tell just how much we were thinking by how we conducted ourselves. For the first few months our house was a mess: counters covered, clothes laid on the floor. Layers of dust built up on our ceiling fans and cabinets, and dishes stacked in the sink. Once my mom got put on prescription, however, the narrative flipped. Then the house was spotless, always, as if one day she’d find Everett under the rug, or stuffed in the closet alongside her brooms. My dad on the other hand would ‘nap’, but what this really meant was ‘ruminate’. Thinking back now, I believe this was his way of sparing us his distress. While my mom was open and overbearing with her theories and reasonings my dad preferred to keep these on the inside. I very vividly remember those nights of him sitting in his chair, the light of the television playing on his face, and his eyes moving behind their lids.

I spent my pent up energy at night, at parties, doing what I could to forget that I was an only child. Where my parents chose to replay the past I tried to forget it. For me, it was fake ID’s and clubs and other and things of that nature. The piece of my brother that haunted me, funnily enough, was his attitude towards the boys I would meet. “You don’t bring just anybody home.” he would say to me. “You bring around some dipshit while I’m still living here and…” he would stand up straight if he wasn’t already, and shadow box, throwing his thin limbs in front of him, laughing. “...I might just have to drop the whole nice guy act.” I remember how closed off I was, even when I was out with friends. How guys I once held interest in became unbearable. I remember how those nights guys would ask if they could stay over, and I would feel sick. I became cynical. They know my brother is gone. They know he is gone, and that I’m sad, and they’re taking advantage of that while he’s not here to put them in their place. 

Then one day my mom texts me. “He’s home. He came home just now, he brought pizza, you should come home too.” Knowing my friends were too plastered to drive me I call a taxi and go back, and sure enough, he’s there, with my mom and some girl, just eating pizza in the dining room like he came home late from work. By the time I was done crying and hugging him the pizza was room temperature.

This was when I first saw her. Her skin was mute and grey when in the dim light, and her eyes were almost entirely pupils. I remember staring at her for a bit, transfixed almost. She said nothing, and looked at me.

“Uh, Janice…” he said to me, “...this is Mara, my girlfriend.” He took the seat next to her, and clasped her hand in his. She waved at me with her free hand, and they both just stared at me that way for a bit. Even though it was the middle of the night, she was wearing a thin black silk dress, and a black bag sat next to her on the table. Everett was dressed as he typically was, in a long sleeve crewneck and sweatpants; as if she was about to walk the red carpet, and he was drunken bum that wandered too far from Skid Row.

“Everett has told me a lot about you.” she said, and she stood up and outstretched a hand; her nails seemed to be filed into points and painted black. I shook her hand and sat down, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. The more I observed her, the harder I found it to discern her age.. Her face looked young like Everett’s, but her mannerisms seemed straight out of an etiquette class , like she had lived her entire life in a palace somewhere. 

When my dad came home he cried the most. “Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell us?” They gripped each other tightly, and I could see my dad’s tears get absorbed by Everett’s shirt.

“It’s a very long story.” he replied. “But I’ve been fine honestly. I wanted to tell you guys, but I ended up having to travel far, like real far, and I don’t get cell outside of this country, y’know? And they didn’t always have postal where I was stationed.”

“Well, where were you? Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell us, or leave something in your apartment?” my mom began to ask, and you could see some of her anger seep out as she spoke. All of her unanswered questions were standing in front of her, and even if it was her son, she wanted to know the reason why.

“It was really spur of the moment, I got accepted into this group, they do humanitarian aid around the world, I got in late and I barely had time to pack before we took off. I didn’t think it would be hard to send a letter, but it was, and my phone died before we boarded so I tried calling using an airport payphone, and nobody picked up.”

My mother and father were silent, and so was Mara, who only sat there and stared at my mother as she spoke, looking a little disgruntled.

“So, you just left the country? Just like that? I mean, you didn’t even check in with your job, they were looking for you, we’ve all been looking for you, there is an ongoing investigation right now that is–”
“Yeah you can tell them to call that off.” he said bluntly. “I mean I’m here now right?” A whine in his voice made it clear that he wanted to change the subject, and I wasn’t the only one who caught it. My mom went up to him and hugged him again, held her head top his chest, and muttered. 

“I’m so glad you’re home sweetie.” she said softly.

“Me too.” He muttered back, but his voice seemed heavy, like some unknown burden was on his mind. I recognise that sort of thing now, and he was doing it; saying one thing, while another part of him was somewhere else, deep in thought. That night, after all was said and done and my brother was hugged a dozen more times, we all together went to bed. But I could not sleep. I milled over my brother’s words as I gripped my covers; swearing that I could hear the floorboards outside my door creaking.

That morning we all sat around the breakfast table and ate waffles, bacon, eggs, and orange juice like they do in those sitcom shows. The girlfriend didn’t show up, and when asked my brother merely attributed it to jet lag. When asked where she came from he said she was native to a place he was stayed at last and that she never left the country, time zones were new to her and she was tired.

“She is quite something, isn’t she? What does she do for a living?” my mom pried.

“Accounting for her country’s biggest hotel, it’s where our group stationed.” he replied, and my mom laughed and said: “That explains why she dresses so nice.”

For the rest of the meal, we asked him about what he was doing over there, but he was picky about what he shared. He seemed reluctant to give us concrete details about much of anything, and was nonchalant in a lot of his answers. He seemed tired, or at least tired of talking. He gave off the impression that he had recounted the things he spoke of millions of times.

“So, where did you meet her?” my dad asked.

“I needed some help with some hotel stuff, I bumped into her in the hallway and asked her some things. Didn’t know that she was just on a stay like me, I thought she worked there.”

My dad nodded in approvement of this answer, and looked at my mom,. Unspoken words passed between them, and she turned to “Everett, if you were in any trouble, you’d tell us, right?” she asked, and we were all silent. Everett looked surprised at the intervention, but smiled bittersweetly after. “Guys, I mean it really, I’m sorry for what I put you guys through. I think I just felt so…useless. I got the opportunity, and jumped on it immediately, and seriously at first I regretted it. It was a bit scary, but I’m good now, and it’s been fun. I’m so glad I met Mara, she really held me together on the trip.”

“That’s good dear.” My mom said, putting a hand on his. He smiled, and the sun shown through the window on his face, causing his eyes to squint. “Would you guys mind if I close the blinds? It’s a bit bright in here.”

That night I heard the floorboards creaking again, only it came in waves. At one point, when it faded off and disappeared, I sat up in my bed. I was one part curious, and one part annoyed. I wanted to sleep, not hear weird bumps in the night. Our house was small, so whoever or whatever it was wouldn’t take too long to find, and I figured it was just my brother getting food or doing who knows what. But it wasn’t him. When I walked into the room I found his girlfriend standing in our living room and just looking out our window, arms crossed around her chest. I remember in that moment wanting to leave. It was a weird feeling, being in my own living room, in the middle of the night, no lights on other than that being cast from the moon, and just past the coffee table was a girl I had only met once.

Before I could turn she gave me a look over her shoulder. Her mute skin looked fake in the moon, like her body was made of fleece; the light diffusing across it into nothing.

“Good evening.” she said; her dark eyes looked like holes in her head. She was wearing a black silk nightgown along with white puffy woollen socks. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

I choked on my words for a moment. “No, just getting water.” I walked over to the fridge, grabbed our water jug, took a glass, and filled it. When I closed the door she had made a her way from one side of the coffee table to the other without me hearing it.

“I’ve never had a light in one of those” she said. It took me a moment to realise she was talking about the automatic light that goes off when you open the fridge.

“Where are you from?” I asked, even though I knew the question already.

“Czech Republic?” she answered.

“And you like it there?”

“Well, yeah, It’s all I’ve known though.” she said. I didn’t know anything about Czechia at the time, but her accent seemed to be from somewhere around there, and I wasn’t necessarily in the mood to press her for more information. In all honesty I was regretting coming out of my room. She walked a few steps closer to me.

“You look a bit like your brother.” she said. I felt vulnerable. Part of me wanted to re-open the fridge, just so we’d be talking in some light. Her eyes were wide open, but I couldn't tell where she was looking. “You must have been scared, when your brother went missing?”

“W-well, of course.”

“I’m sorry about that.” she said, and began to walk over. Her eyes were fixated on mine now, and my heart began to race. She wasn’t much taller than me, but our kitchen’s lower ceiling made it feel much more vast. She put a hand on mine, and it was cold. Her skin was devoid of any colour. Her eyes were black, almost all black save for some reflections of the light.

“But it’s okay. He’s back now. And I took care of him while he was away.” she smiled, and her teeth were like jagged precipices in her mouth. Eighty tightly packed towers that curved slightly inward toward her throat.

They did not look like that yesterday. I thought. I would have noticed that. The skin, could be anemia, the eyes could be some other condition, but that’s not natural.

She turned around, made her way back to my brother’s room, entered, and closed the door. I locked my door, and didn’t sleep for more than an hour that night.

“I need to talk to you.” I told my brother the morning after. “Is Mara around?”

“No, she’s asleep, are you okay?”

Thank God. I thought. “No, I didn’t sleep that well last night. Can we talk?”

“Um, sure, just let me make some coffee.” I sat all the way in the back of the dining room, farthest I could get from his room.

“I have a question, about Mara.” I asked.

“Okay…” he said, his voice drifting, it was clear I had surprised him.
“How long have you known her?”

“She’s been with me since I got there.”

I frowned. “But she wasn’t part of your group.”

“No.”

“And you said you went all over the world.”

“Yes.”

“But she has jet lag, and you don’t.”

“Janice I’m used to living here. She’s never been here.”

“If she wasn’t in your group, how did you meet her? You mentioned a hotel, wha–”
“The CEO of those hotels is the one running the charity tour. She also happens to be that CEO’s daughter. She tagged along for a bit, but she wasn’t a part of our group, just, interested.” he said, looking down at the table.

“Okay.” I said. I didn’t buy it though, or at least all of it.

“Okay?” he asked.

I nodded.

“She’s just restless. You bump into her last night, I assume?”

I nodded again.

“She’s cool, isn’t she?”

“Can I ask something else?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“Sure?”

“So, I don’t want to pry, but what happened…” I pointed at my own mouth. His skin turned as colourless as hers was that night.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.” he said.

“They, just looked a bit funny to me, last night when we talked.” I studied his face for a reaction, but his countenance was kept straight.

“Trust me, there’s nothing wrong kid. I’ve been looking at her face for about six months now.”

“Okay.” I said again.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

I stood up and went to return to my room.

“Wait.” he said. “You’re really just gonna leave me hanging here? I missed out on your entire lacrosse season, you don’t got any highlights to share?”

That evening his girlfriend joined us. She looked tired, and she slumped forward in her chair a bit. Her eyes were sullen and her hair was no longer the reflective black straits that they were when she first arrived. She wore one of Everett’s sweaters, a steaming cup of coffee sat in front of her. My dad was talking about Everett as a child and she was sitting there bobbing her head up and down.

“And that’s how we found out that Everett used to pee in his toy dump truck to ‘construct rivers.’” my dad finished.

“A great story for just before dinner, dad.” Everett said. Mara giggled lightly, fished around in her pocket, popped something in her mouth, and chased it with her coffee.

“So the jet lag hit you especially hard, didn’t it?” my dad asked.

“Definitely.” she said dully with a swallow. Everett chimed in. “It also doesn’t help that she’s not really a morning person, it’s super early now in Czechia.”

“You seemed lively enough the night you arrived.”

“It’s because that was much later.” she said. “And I was still excited from the…” she stumbled over her words for a moment. “...travel, here.”

“Well we’re glad to have you here regardless.” my mom said, bringing in the food.

“Thank you, she said. It’s nice, being somewhere so different than where I live.”

That night we ate and talked. My parents asked her how Czechia was and she said it was fine. She liked Prague, where she lived, but wanted to see more of the world after getting time off. I watched her while we ate. She nibbled a bit on things, but didn’t eat much. After a while I decided it’d be my turn to ask questions.

“You must get many opportunities to see the world, no? Your dad being who he is?” I asked her. That night when we were alone, I didn’t want to press her for details, but everybody was here and now I wanted answers.

“Oh?” she said, and looked at my brother, who looked back at her. “Yeah, my father…” she returned her attention to me, “he’s just protective, y’know? Just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean he wants me running off everywhere. I stick to our hotels mostly. I think the records make him feel better.”

“If only all kids stayed put for their parents.” my mom snarked playfully, casting an exaggerated look at Everett.

“Mom, I–”

“So where else have you been, Mara?” I continued. She rose in her seat, and she glanced at Everett.

“Well, we went to Austria, Romania, we cut through Greece.” The entire time Everett spoke, I made eye contact with Mara. A beige white was all that existed of her eye beside her pupils. She stared back at me, and I could feel her annoyance at my question. She rasped her fingers on the table, once, and it was only here that I noticed how unnaturally pointed her nails were. My face turned red, and she put one arm on the table, and rested her chin on the back of her hand. Everett was still talking, but I don’t believe either of us were listening. Our eyes held each others, and her brow furled ever so slightly, as did her nose. In between blinks, her eyes lost their colour once again, becoming deep and dark, pits of black and nothing. I watched, frozen as this process continued to happen, but the moment I tried staying my blinking they were back to normal, as if it was just my mind.

That night I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling, watching my fan spin in circles. This night was silent, but it was still early, and as long as I knew that I was unable to fall asleep.

Give it an hour. I thought. If she isn’t up and walking around in an hour, then try to sleep. My door was locked, but it didn’t feel like enough. There was something wrong with her. I shouldn’t have angered her. I thought, over and over again. That night two hours passed before the sounds came. Outside my door this time: scratching. I could hear breathing, muffled, coming from somewhere in the house. I curled in my bed. She giggled from somewhere outside my room. After a while there was no sound, and then the breathing began again. It was slow, and sounded like a hiss. I got out of bed, and tried to stand as quietly as I could. I could hear whispering coming from the hallway. More than one person, and then she giggled again. It sounded as if she was right outside. I inched closer to where my room connected into the hallway, keeping my feet hidden from the gap between the door and floor. I held my ear there, and could hear that the sound was actually coming from further down the hall. I looked below my door, and could see that one room had its light on: my brother’s. I slowly turned the lock, and opened my door slightly. The glints of light that reflected off of the painted wall showed the hallway to be empty. The bathroom door was open to my right. I tucked inside, and grabbed a pair of short facial hair scissors my dad used. The scratching began again, and I could hear a high another high pitched hiss come from Everett’s room. I scooted silently across the floor, until the scratching sounded like it was boring through the wall toward the hallway. When I got to the edge of the door frame, I looked in, with one eye, and clasped one hand over my mouth.

My brother was naked, and she was attached to him. She was sitting on a low dresser, and he had planted both of his arms on either side of her. She was also completely naked, breasts pressed to him, and he was rising into her. She let out a hiss, and buried her face into his neck. Her breathing muffled, and he slowly pushed her back until she was pressed against the wall. She leaned back, and her nails tore grooves into the dresser. She lifted her head and gasped another hiss of air, and her eyes were completely devoid of colour. Everett gripped the side of her head with one hand, and she exhaled and her teeth were large and sharp and jagged like those fish that never see sunlight. Their eyes met, and then their mouths and as he pressed into her she clenched her legs tight around him and began gripping his back and wrapping her hands around his neck. He laughed, and she let out a giggle. She closed her eyes, and pressed her head against his chest, and he kissed her innumerable times on the top of her head while he rocked into her.

My face flushed, and I backed down the entire hallway, into my room and closed the door behind me. I looked at the scissors in my hand, and placed them on my own dresser. I let out my own exhale, walked over to my bed, and laid on it. I stared at the ceiling, and like all of the other nights since she came I tried to ignore the noises, and go to sleep. But I sat awake, and like all of those other nights since she came I was was entranced in thought: doomed to only sleep a few hours before the sun rose. So I sat there, and fumbled in my covers, and on that night, when sleep finally took me, it was only until after I woke and went to leave for breakfast that I realised I never relocked my door, nor felt the need to in the future.