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Addiction

Chapter Twenty-Three

Pink Turns to Blue

By:

Rufus Quentin

Late March, 1999

It was around the very beginning of spring when my denial reached its limits. I remember sitting in the living room under a blanket playing Nintendo, feeling absolutely, disconsolately miserable. I missed my third period and I ran fresh out of excuses of what could possibly be wrong with me. I couldn't concentrate on anything. My conscience gnawed at me like some cryptic Amazonian parasite. All the swirling emotions, and no doubt the hormonally induced mood swings, made me feel worse than the actual nausea. My brother proved more difficult to dupe than my friends and the high school attendance officer. He sat beside me and my nest of blankets and asked me how I was doing. His questions got particularly specific. I lied to him and not for the first time in our relationship. I played down the symptoms, faked others, and omitted damning details. I think he saw right through me.

Only that very pursuit of normalcy kept me sane. When I felt physically fine, I turned back into my usual self and lived life like a normal high school senior. I looked forward to the days of the week Dustin had off. Even the few hours after school where Dustin and I simply performed our mundane routines felt special. I discovered a relationship is a lot about routine. Yea, I'd been with Riley, but we never got close to enough for long enough in order for us to develop a routine. Cooking turned into a big deal, as did deciding on what shows to watch. Little interactions spoke volumes about how we felt and what we wanted. We still fooled around a lot. I think the changes happening to my body put me into some kind of hormonal overdrive, and I admit I disguised my anxieties with affection. I found myself initiating more than ever before. Dustin never complained. I think he liked the fact that I'd gotten into incest as much as he was.

We used protection when it was available, but we burnt through them embarrassingly fast. No sooner than Dustin scored a fresh pack, it seemed like we were bare backing again. If he asked if it was safe to cum in me, I let him. If he felt up to pulling out, I'd just watch him stroke himself off on my labia and pubic fur, then just I'd masturbate to my satisfaction with his jizz. For the most part I just wiggled back at him and hinted that it was up to him to decide. Subconsciously I knew it was too late for any effective contraception. It was no wonder then that after so many risky repetitions cognitive dissonance wore thin.

The mantra 'This can't happen to me. This is definitely something else. As long as I act normal, things will be normal,' ceased to have any meaning. I pushed all my friends away because of it. I whipped myself, my fucking brother, and the whole damn state because of it. I prayed again and again that my symptoms meant something, anything else. I made deals with my inner voice during lengthy late night conversations, ones I knew I wouldn't honor. I'd do anything to not be pregnant. I'd leave my brother, stop having unprotected sex, I'd go to church and confess every instance of incest and every major and minor sin so long as it meant a fresh start, and a fresh path to heaven. With my third missed period I knew my bargaining failed. It crushed me. I retreated to my bedroom and sulked for over a week. Then on the first warm day of spring I arose.

I ended up stealing a piss-test from a pharmacy a few towns over. It was almost Easter. Add to that flu-season. The place was packed. I meandered through the crowd, dressed in my tomboy attire, walking aimlessly through the aisles pretending to be there for something else. I stood right in front of them after passing them twice. It was more an impulse than anything else. I grabbed one when no one was looking, stuck it in my backpack and walked straight out. I still feel guilty about it. Today, whenever I'm back in town I go to the pharmacy, buy something small and pay with a big bill, instructing them to keep the change. Slowly, I'll chip away at my debt.

When I had them, I was afraid to use one. I shoved the box deep under my bed, someplace no one would find it. I knew what it would tell me, but I just didn't want it confirmed. It took me a few more days to muster the courage to use one. The day I did was also the day a stack of admissions letters appeared in the mailbox, among them my top three choices. I laid them out on my bed from fat to thin. Thin usual meant a rejection, fat meant acceptance. My top choice was thin, but I had no way of knowing for sure. I took the occasion to bring forth the box of pregnancy tests and placed it beside them. For the moment everything seemed possible, my fate lay before me represented in material form, boxed up and sealed and awaiting me to unpack it.

Sure enough, out of three letters came three acceptances, one with a generous scholarship. What should surely have given me cause to bound through all the rooms of my house singing songs of self-praise merely gave me pause. The universities still seemed as distant as the day before, mine, yet conditional. The box of tests remained untouched. I picked it up, read the label, opened it and took one out. With it hidden in my paw I snuck to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet in the dim light of the windowless room, pants around my ankles, waiting for the results. Sure enough two pink plusses slowly appeared, one after the other. I wasn't devastated. I sat there like a stone. I just thought, 'ok. So this is it.'

I waited a few more days to tell Dustin, mostly because I didn't know what to do or how to say it. It all had to sink in. I lacked the language to confess. The words 'I'm pregnant' are incredibly hard to say. Sleepless and dishonored I spent the nights awake in partial fear of nightmares, in partial search for words. I wrote letters, practiced phrasing, and rehearsed with my reflection. Everything I came up with sounded terrible, inferior to even the most banal direct-to-VHS movies. Worst of all I had only a few days to grow up and realize that I was a woman who made some really stupid decisions. Somehow some Ivy League saw it fit to accept me; somehow I could not feel any dumber. Yea, my family celebrated me. My dad came home and drove us all the way to Charleston for dinner, steak at one of the most upscale restaurants in the city, a place I knew we could barely afford. At school they announced my admittance during the morning announcements. Whatever the praise, I felt unworthy.

Then came the day I mustered the courage to tell Dustin. I remember it well. I started by retrieving the test stick with its positive results out of my little lock box. I sat on my bed and read its signs a final time. Then I took the short trip down the hall, my heartbeat thumping in my ears. I watched myself as if in third person knocking on his door. He was calm when I finally broke it to him. I sat on his bed with the test in my paws. I ditched all the possible things I could say, I wordlessly handed my brother the test without pretense, without clever wording or dramatic performance and let it do the talking. In a way he expected it.

We didn't speak much at first. He just walked me to the bathroom and made me take another one for him, then the third and last in the box. He leaned against the door in our small, cramped bathroom as I sat on the toilet and held one, then the other in my urine stream. We both peered over them, expecting more than anticipating the final results. All possessed the same positive symbols. I watched, fighting back the tears as he looked at the positive sticks, and waited in fear for his response. He didn't cry, or yell. He just rubbed his eyes and his muzzle and sat there. After a while he looked up at me and asked, "Now what?"

I barely remember the few steps back to my bedroom. My vision was too blurred. I recall the shame and the feeling of the positive pregnancy tests in my clutched paw. We just sat on the edge of my bed. I folded my paws across my lap. My ears shifted back in a humbled sweep. Eye-contact ceased to be an option. "I don't know," I eventually answered, my voice near faltering, speaking honestly for the first time in a while.

Dustin didn't have a response. I knew what he wanted me to say, but at the same time he was clever enough not to bring it up. "How long have you known?" He ended up asking as the silence grew piercing.

"Hard to say," I paused, "I've had some symptoms for a while. It only just dawned on me a few weeks ago what it could mean. Only took a test a few days ago."

"You know, I figured you were pregnant. You've been acting a bit weird lately. We haven't been very safe at all for a while. Matter of time, really. Why didn't you tell me any sooner?"

I sighed, my voice still cracking after every other word. "I guess, you know, I didn't want to admit it myself. I knew, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to know for sure."

"How many periods have you missed?" Dustin said.

"Two," I replied. "Maybe three."

"Fuck," he said. "This must have happened a while ago."

I stood silent, too ashamed to say a word. "I didn't know what to expect." I said. "I didn't know what it would feel like. It just didn't come. Then again. Even when it didn't, I didn't believe it."

"Shh," Dustin said as multiple tears wet my cheek. "What's done is done."

"I'm sorry," I whimpered. "I wanted to tell you."

"Things are going to have to change," he said, "especially if you want to keep it."

"I know," I said in complete capitulation.

"I've started saving up," he said, "for whatever you decide. I think I've got enough. Maybe enough to take care of it, or whatever. We'll probably have to head to DC, or Baltimore."

"Do you want me to get rid of it?"

"It's your call," Dustin continued. "I figured it's what you want, now that you're going to college. Not to mention the fact that we're related. Think of the MacGillicuddys. The rumors."

"Oh god I hope not. That can't possibly be true. That's what I'm so afraid of though. I can't believe this happened to us."

"It can't be true. I think it's just a sore subject around here. You know? Look, everyone's related anyway. Such a small population. But still, we gotta face the possibility that it might just be better to take you to a clinic."

"I haven't decided yet."

"You thinking about keeping it?"

"Donno."

"How are you going to make that work? Isn't college a lot of work? Will they even let it into the dorms?"

"Donno."

"You need to go to college. Don't give up on that because we fucked up."

"I know," I said, raising my voice in frustration. "I know. I want to go."

"How are we going to do this? What happens when you start to show? There's like three months left of school. How are you going to hide it that long? What about dad? He may not be around much, but he isn't an idiot."

"I don't know," I firmly said. I turned to my brother and glared him directly in the eyes for the first time in the conversation. "I don't know," I repeated, just as firm, before breaking into tears once more.

Dustin fell silent. He broke the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me. He held me close as my body trembled in midst of tears, pressing his muzzle upon my forehead and stroking my fur flat in consolation. "I'm here, sis," he whispered, his lips brushing my fur as he spoke.

"This wasn't just about the sex, was it?" I asked minutes later as I forced myself back into some semblance of composure.

"No," he said. "Never."

"Then do you feel how I do?"

"Yea," he said.

"Are we?" I asked.

"We are."

"What does this mean?"

"It means I'm with you. This is ours. I'll be with you after school ends. I'll follow you wherever you go. I'll do my best to support you. Whatever decision you make, I'll agree with it, and do whatever I can to make it work. I want to be a part of your life, even after this." He paused. "Sis, I love you. I mean, I've always loved you, but... I want you to know I love you in every possible way."

"I love you too," I followed, again a tear down my cheek, "in every way." I quivered, ready to burst, yet felt lighter, as if a massive boulder had been pulled off me. I could breathe again. My tears could flow without inhibition. I clung to my brother, my body moved by the tremors of weeping. I felt exposed, barer than even Dustin had seen her before, but for the first time since our relationship began, my disclosure felt liberating.

We talked all afternoon and into the evening. After a while our conversation turned circular. We meandered around topics as if we were lost in a forest, coming across a familiar topic like a marked tree, where we figured 'It looks like we've come this way before.' We broke off having only reached one conclusion. We'd settled on a word for what we were. From now on we'd call ourselves mates. I never liked the words boyfriend and girlfriend, but in essence that's what we would be for each other from that day forward. There would be no one else. There would be no expiration date. The feelings we had were real. Over the past seven months my brother and I had haphazardly constructed a relationship. Now that we had it we both needed it to become permanent, permanence being the operative word of the night.

This is kind of where I expected my story to end. All my plans were gone. Without plans I didn't have a future. As I lay there in Dustin's arms, cuddled beside him in bed with my eyes sore and red from weeping, I kind of expected the inevitable fade to black. The curtain would fall. My character would cease to exist. The actor who played her would come out bowing to flowers and applause. That didn't happen. The hours passed by and the darkness still hadn't gripped me yet. I grew hungry. I kind of had to pee. All those little needs reminded me I was still alive, still pregnant, still carrying a cub conceived out of incest. I couldn't rely on the salvation of cinematic drama. My story would have to go on.

It took courage to get up, to walk downstairs with my brother behind me, and to clean vegetables and chop meat for dinner. I held back tears poking at my meal. Doing the dishes filled me with unfathomable, gut-wrenching sadness. My homework was the hardest I'd ever have to do. I showered and brushed my fangs as if preparing to visit the funeral of a loved one. Crawling into bed beside Dustin gave me a little bit of consolation, but knowing that tomorrow I'd have to parade into school 100% officially pregnant, didn't help me find sleep.

That was my routine for a while. I'd slink through the halls of high school, using my binder and men's wardrobe as a shield. I delved into work. Occupying my mind with immediate thoughts distracted me from the awful ones. I'd come home and sulk. It would be hours before I got anything done and what I did do, I did listlessly.

"You okay sis?" Dustin said, sneaking into my room. I lay on my bed with my work strewn about me. I didn't feel like lifting a finger.

"I'm fine," I said, mumbling into my crossed arms.

He sat down beside me. "You don't look fine."

"I'm cool. Now fuck off. I got a test tomorrow."

Dustin sighed. "You know we didn't get along very well when you used to tell me to fuck off all the time. Remember that?"

"Sorry Dusty," I said, "I'm just stressed."

"Yea, me too." He said. "Got a lot to worry about."

"You don't have a fucking larval canine crawling in your uterus," I said.

Dustin sighed again. "No, I don't. Thank fucking god. But I do have a friend, you know the guy I told you about, the one who got his girl pregnant? He told me he thinks his girlfriend is tweaking. Found some glass in her car. He's pissed."

I remained silent. I put a pillow over my head. I didn't want to hear any of this.

"Doesn't affect me, I could say. Not my kid. Not my girl. But it does. Those kinds of stories scare the piss out of me. What kind of a girl would do meth when she's pregnant? Doesn't that fuck up a cub? God. Shit." Dustin paused when I didn't say anything. "I don't know if you know, but I got a girl pregnant." He said, and stroked my back with his paw. "I love her and thank god she's not on drugs. Doesn't even drink or smoke pot. She's smart as fuck and sexy. Funny too." Dustin chuckled. "I'm worried about my pup too, even though it really hasn't sunk in yet. Fuck, me a dad, shit. Who let that happen? I do a lot of worrying since she told me, but mostly thinking. I think about what kind of a dad I'm going to be, about how the fuck I'm gonna feed this kid. She wants to go to college and I think she should. I think about how she's gonna juggle. Luckily there are a few things I don't have to think about. I don't think she's doing drugs and I don't think she ever will. I don't think she's gonna flunk out of school and go on welfare. I don't think she's going to let an unplanned pregnancy fuck up the rest of her life. At least I hope not. I think she's going to be a good mom. I think I'm gonna have a kid as smart as her. I get to make a little mini-me. That's awesome."

Dustin's paw ran down my spine. It caused my tail to flick in agitation, a fuck off signal my brother could surely read. His paw recoiled and he stood a second later, and waited beside my bed. "But what the fuck do I know," he said and turned his back on me. The door closed silently behind him. Only when he left could I feel the true meaning of loneliness. I wanted to call him back, but dignity and self-indulgent sadness forced me not to. I lay there, now truly unable concentrate, and wrapped myself up in a cocoon of selfishness.

I heard a bang somewhere nearby, a gunshot that echoed through the valley. I could tell by the telltale pop that it was something small caliber, just a .22 by the sound of it, but it was nearby. A second shot perked my ears. My senses could triangulate the sound's origin to somewhere outside my window. I got up and walked to the glass, parting the blinds with my paw. It was overcast and getting dark out. The rain seemed to have subsided for the moment, creating a rare window in the chilly West Virginia spring. I saw my brother standing there in the gloom on the brown grass among the remaining patches of the season's last snow. He wore an old baseball cap and held a small rifle, and took aim at some coffee cans he'd set up on the far end of the yard by the knoll. A flash sparked out the barrel accompanied by another bang. Earth shot up near the row.

What had I dragged that boy into, I thought as I watched him open fire, ratchet the lever, expend a casing and fire again. He looked like a cub to me, a little kid cathartically venting little kid worries on some defenseless cans with his dad's .22. He wasn't ready to be a dad. That much was obvious. Would he really rise to the challenge? As I looked down at my brother, at my mate, the father of my pup, I wasn't so sure. He was dealing with his problems the way he always had. He was running away from things. He was probably high. I just couldn't tell if he were thinking or trying to forget.

I watched him, kneeling on the floor, resting my chin on my elbows on the windowsill. The yellow sparks illuminated him for a second as evening grew darker. Little tracers zoomed across the yard. He probably couldn't even see what he was shooting at. The flashes reflected in my eyes and I too got lost in thought. He'd fire eight rounds, reload, and fire again, and thus his pattern continued until he must have burnt through a box of 200. When he finished he sat there on an old plastic chair, indifferent to the cold and the darkness. Would he despise me for robbing him of his future?

I wanted to blame him; push the whole fuck up on him. He was the one so persistent to tie, and hadn't he been the instigator since things started going awry way back in September? But no, I knew I shared just as much of the blame. Not every time I let him cum in me was an accident. I made him do it just about as many times as he persuaded me to let him. Sometimes I wanted it for some fucked up reason, but why? I knew what could happen. I wasn't stupid. Love makes you do dumb things, but there are limits to how much you can suspend proper judgement. When exactly did it even take anyway, I asked myself. There were so many times it could have happened, even after we started using condoms. It wasn't a one-time slip up. We gambled with fate. We were equally responsible.

I wanted to punch myself, abort that little incest larva burrowing into my flesh, but could I forgive myself if I did? Probably not. I was stuck with it and would be for life. I rubbed my paw through my fur and clutched my mane. I'd reached a decision hadn't I? At least I'd eliminated one option. I had to carry this thing out. That seemed like the least detestable thing to do. We would have to see when the time came what would happen next. Would I be the same mother mine was to me and abandon it, even if someone more qualified than me got to take care of it? Or would I refuse to emulate her and do the right thing, even if it cost me, cost the both of us, everything we'd dreamed of. Oh god. I thought, covering my eyes. I was so deathly afraid of giving birth.

***

In one of those events so ironic, or rather coincidental, you get the feeling some deity has to exist, whose cosmic purpose it is to fuck with you, my brother Nate called me from his home in Charlotte. It was late, but not long after dinner. The house was dark, I'd packed up my homework, and Dustin worked away in the garage. I had a feeling something big was going to happen when I stomped downstairs in pursuit of that ring. I believe in intuitive feelings, a future sense, a potential to predict big changes. My concerns were validated.

"Hey, that you Alex?" My brother's voice asked over the phone, or at least one of my brother's voices, since it was kind of hard to tell them apart by sound.

"Nate?" I asked.

"Yea. It's me," he said. "Congrats on Brown, kid. Looks like you'll be getting the fuck out of the south. Rhode Island bound. We knew you could do it."

"Thanks," I said, my ears swinging back humbly. I shifted uncomfortably and twisted the telephone cord around my paw nervously. If it weren't for that wrench in my plans, I probably would have taken genuine pride in my brother's words, but for now pride wasn't exactly what I was feeling.

"Is dad home?" Nate asked.

"Naa, he's with Brandon in Charleston. Should have been back this weekend, but for some reason he's staying another week. Maybe he'll come back in next weekend. Do you want me to leave a message?"

"Naa, this is kind of important. I'll give 'em a call personally. It's good that I'm getting you, though. This is news for you too."

"What is it?"

"Looks like you're going to be an aunt! Chloe is pregnant." He boasted. "We're expecting."

"Congrats," feeling my skin tingle and trying to sound surprised. It wasn't that the news didn't come as a surprise, but hell, I'd had enough time for it to sink in that I was pregnant with my own niece or nephew.

"Well," he said. "It's a bit early and we don't want to screw up the mojo. We just got back from the doctor. The blood test is in, which confirms it. You two aren't going to be the family pups anymore. Move over."

I tried to chuckle a little bit, but it came out forced.

"Listen Alex, don't tell dad if for some reason I can't reach him first. I want to be the one to tell him he's gonna be a grandpa. You can tell Dustin though. Tell him he's going to be an uncle so it's high time for him to shape up."

"I, I'll tell him that," I stuttered.

"Thanks sis."

"Tell Chloe congratulations. Tell her I feel for her," I said.

"Will do," Nate said.

"How's school?" Nate said. "Got senioritis yet?"

"Sorta," I said, "but..."

"Listen I'm sorry to cut things short. I got another call on the line. Take care sis. Punch Dustin for me."

And he hung up.

I walked to the garage where my brother kept his work bench. Dustin was working hard on something. About four rifles and a shotgun lay disassembled in front of him. My first impression told me he was working on an AR-15, or at least a big black fuck-off looking thing of questionable legality. He peered at some military manual, then back at the pieces, nimbly re-inserting the firing pin into the bolt-carrier assembly. He didn't pay me any attention at all. Not even a 'Hi sis.'

I walked over and punched him in the arm. Hard, in preliminary compensation for the labor pains I'd have to go through because of him. The bolt-carrier assembly went flying out of his fingers across the table, disturbing a number of other components.

"What the fuck? Holy Shit!" He screamed.

"Nate told me to do it," I calmly said.

"You fuckin' bitch." He said, rubbing his arm.

"You're going to be an uncle," I said.

"Aww bless your heart. Did this just click for you? Uncle dad. Very funny auntie mom."

"No," I corrected. "Chloe is pregnant. Nate is gonna have a kid."

"Well fuckin' shit," he said. "I beat that fucker to it."

I flicked my ears in irritation and changed the subject. "What're you working on?" I asked, interested in the display of gun parts.

"Well, before you fucking broke my arm I was working on an automatic AR. This is for a customer. Simple cleaning and reassembly shit. Kind of surprises me the dude who owns this can't do it himself."

"Aren't those illegal?"

"A lot of shits illegal. Nobody really cares around here. Probably belongs to the sheriff's brother."

"Can't you get in trouble?"

"Meh, Sam has been taking in these guns for decades. It's still standing. Besides, you should talk."

"What I do?"

"The state tends to frown on getting it up the duff from your bother."

With that I punched him again, harder than before and stormed out of the garage. The door shut so hard it rattled the whole house.

"Sis," Dustin said, running after me. He chased me down the hall and caught me by the staircase. He reached out and grabbed my arm. I open palmed him in the nose. "Fuck," he said, covering his muzzle. "Stop!"

I looked at him with silent fury.

"Okay, I deserved that," he said with a nasal inflection.

"You asshole," I said.

He pulled his palm away and immediately I saw a bit of blood oozing from his nostril. "Shit, Dusty, I'm sorry," I said with immediate remorse.

"What?" He said and dabbed his paw to his nose. "Oh," he continued, noticing the wound.

I ran off for a paper towel and carried a guilty conscious with me.

"Alex," he said, following me.

"I'm sorry, Dusty," I said, dabbing the blood away with the towel.

"No biggy," he said. "You know I'm an asshole."

"Yea, you are," I said, watching the towel grow red under my fingertips, "but that's no excuse for hitting you."

"Eh' sometimes violence is the only way I'll ever learn I'm being a dick."

I chuckled a bit, but that didn't mean I stopped feeling like shit.

"You know I love you, right?" He asked.

"Yea," I sighed with some resignation. "Do you still love me?"

"From the bottom of my heart, babe."

"Don't call me babe."

Dustin snorted a bit of blood into the towel. "Dude," he corrected, as if it were hard to say.

"That's better," I said.

Dustin pulled back and moved to sit on the counter. I followed him and held the towel to his muzzle, changing its surface as it got saturated with red canine blood. The stuff got on the white of my paws. After a while the bleeding stopped and I could leave Dustin be. I cleaned his nostrils and the point of his muzzle with clean water and tended to my own reddened paws. "You okay?" I asked, nervous and self-loathing.

He brought paw-pad to his nose and inspected it. When it appeared dry he said, "I'll be fine. Not the first time I took a paw to the muzzle. You need to work on your form. Actually felt kind of wimpy."

"I'm pleased with the results," I claimed.

"You still mad at me?" He said.

"Yea," I said, quite honestly.

"I just said some stupid things."

"I'll forgive you for those if you forgive me for hitting you."

"I do," he said. "Fuckin' forgot about it already."

"It's more than just that though."

"What is it?"

"I feel that you're not taking things seriously." I said, looking down at the bloody rag as I prepared to throw it away.

"What? About the pup? I know this is serious."

"You're joking about it now. You don't seem to grasp what this means. It's your fucking pup. Take it serious. It's like you're way too happy that this has happened."

"I am taking this serious. All those guns in there," he calmly said, pointing in the general direction of the garage, "homework. I'm pulling more hours, doing more shit, and at the same time juggling high school. My grades are decent. I'm not worried about graduating, thanks to you."

"It's more than that. This doesn't seem like a tragedy for you."

"Well." He said, scratching behind his ears. "Life goes on."

"That's a fucked up attitude," I said, sternly crossing my arms.

"What am I gonna do? Cry about it? Lie on the highway and shout woe is me? I don't do that shit Alex. You're pregnant. I'll fucking handle what I can handle. Once you give me a plan, we'll work on it," he said.

"Dusty, I'm really fucking scared. I really need to know you're gonna pull through. I need to know you understand what this means. How fucked up things are."

"I promise," he said, scooting off the counter. He stepped closer and put his paws on my arms. He kissed me on the blaze on my forehead. "But I can't promise that I'm gonna see this as the end of the world. It's fucked up, I agree, and I've lost sleep over it, trust me, but I don't think I can grieve the way you seem to want me to. I see a silver lining. Strong people can make this work. You're strong. I look up to you. You know? Seeing that gives me a bit of hope and that puts me to sleep at night. That's why I'm not fucking crying my balls off right now."

I sighed. My ears swept back. "I'm not that strong." I said. "I've been pretending."

"Coulda fooled me," he said. "I fell in love with a smart, strong girl. Believe me, I knew how fucked up it was that she was my sister, that I had these kind of emotions and attractions. I didn't know what to do. I had to cross hundreds of millions of years of evolutionary programing to be with you. I wouldn't have done that, couldn't have done that, if I weren't absolutely sure that you're smart, strong, and ballsy. That's what I'm attracted to, smart, strong girls with balls. Fuck me, you had to be the only one in the county."

I chuckled a little. "I don't know if I like the mental picture of me with balls."

"You got huge ones sis, bigger than mine."

We both laughed. "Stop talking now," I said and smiled. I inched forward. Dustin did too, directing his muzzle toward mine. We kissed and held each other, standing idly in the kitchen. I wanted to say I loved him, but I think my actions expressed it better.

Dustin and I eventually moved to the living room and camped out in front of the television set. We grew quiet, watching the late shows as we enjoyed doing. "Sis," my brother said as we lay cuddled on the couch trying to at least pretend normalcy existed in our household, trying in vain to reclaim the lightheartedness that filled our hearts and hearth back before I took that pregnancy test.

"What?" I whispered, keeping my nose pointed toward the television set. I played the role of the little spoon, wiggled flush against Dustin. His arm draped around me and his paw rested on my still somewhat flat stomach.

"I did a little research," he said, speaking cryptically. It was clear he wasn't referring to the TV show.

"About what?" I said, curious.

"There's a clinic in Charleston," he said in a tone as if talking about Waffle House. "Only one in the state."

"Oh," I said, more out of disappointment than surprise. I understood the inevitable conversation had arisen.

"We can make an appointment for you. It'll be anonymous," he said.

"I'm keeping it," I blurted.

"Why?" Dustin asked.

"I just don't feel good about ending it. It's not its fault."

"Aren't you afraid it's gonna be fucked up? It's you and me who made it. Isn't it going to be all inbred?"

"Don't say that." I said.

"Why? Gotta face the facts."

"I don't want it to be true."

"You're pregnant. I'm the father. We're related."

"I want it to be okay. There's a chance it's fine. It's still hanging in there."

"Look," he said. "If you were anyone else in the world, I'd be okay. You know?" He sighed. "You know, when I was a little bit younger I seriously believed I'd probably knock someone up around this age. Not because I wanted it, but because it seemed to happen to everybody. All my older friends, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, had a kid on the way. If it weren't for you I'd probably have gotten another girl pregnant, someone I never would have loved as much as I do you. You know how it is. You get a little eager, you ask about the knot because as a guy you really want your knot in there, she says yea and that's how pups are made. With anyone else it would have been okay. I'm fine moving out and living in a trailer. Fuck, dad probably wouldn't even mind me bringing a family in here. He's never here to begin with. I'd work at Sam's and either take over the place or open my own down the road. Not a bad life, really. But you? I'm with you now. It's you and me sis, because of that fact we really need to think about going to that clinic. Dad's going to find out eventually, so are our brothers. When you pop out a pure bred and they see us together, there's gonna be questions. And even if it's genetically fine, you have different plans. You have a different life lined up. You're never going to be happy living my life. Maybe we can juggle, but not here, not on the easy path. I'm sorry sis, I promise I'll agree with you on whatever you want, but I think all signs point to taking care of it."

A tear rolled down my cheek and absorbed into the pillow. "You're right," I said, "but I just don't want to be like mom. Why the fuck did she have to leave us? We couldn't even walk or talk. Why don't I have a single memory of her? I don't even know if she was good or bad. All I have to go by is what Nate, Danny, and to a lesser extend Brandon, told me about her. If it was really dad's fault, why did she leave us with him? She could have at least taken us with her. She abandoned us. I don't want to be that kind of person. Good or bad I don't want this thing scraped from my uterus. I want to at least try to be a decent mother. Like mom, like dad, we fucked up. We shouldn't be together but we are. We're having a cub. I don't want to repeat history." By then single droplets of tears blurred into little currents. A stain on the pillow grew under my muzzle.

"I get you, Alex," he said. "If this is what you want, we'll try."

"I'm sorry Dusty."

My brother squeezed me. "Don't be," he said. "You're gonna be the mom to a lucky little pup. Trust me, I'm as pissed as you are about mom, and I'll make sure what happened to us isn't gonna happen again. I'll figure something out, sis."

"I'm not sure what to do," I said.

"Well. It seems like you made at least one decision. That gives us something to work with. As for what next? I have no idea. We'll have to jury rig something together, but hey, I'm good at that."

"What about college?"

"You're going."

"How? With a kid?"

"Just go through the motions. Have you decided which one yet?"

"No. Waiting to hear what you get into."

"Forget about me. Make your decision. Finish the school year as if nothing ever happened. I'll get something arranged, I promise."

"Don't get stuck here. I'm sorry I fucked up your life, Dusty."

"Shut the fuck up, you didn't ruin my life. The last school year has been the best of my life because of you. Now you're gonna give me a son or daughter. What kind of an honor is that? You of all people. Good lord, we're gonna have a crazy little pure bred who's inherited both our insanity and rebelliousness running around. That kid is gonna topple empires."

I chuckled a little bit at the thought. At least that image got me to stop crying. "God, it's gonna be hell raising that thing," I said, but my voice still choked up.

"Jury rig it," Dustin said.

"That's your answer for everything," I said.

"Ehh, somehow our species finds a way. The wolves we evolved from didn't have parenting books. They did it by improvising. Now look what we got. Cell phones."

"Are we really going to try this Dusty? Everything?"

"If you want to have this pup, we're gonna have it. I'm behind you. We can give it up for adoption if by the time it comes around we're really not ready. It sucks, but it's a better deal for the kid if the choice is between that or living in a rotten ass trailer while we struggle."

"That's an option," I said, "better than offing the kid. But I'll still feel like shit."

"You're gonna be a good mom. We'll figure this out. Let's not worry about this. You've made a choice and that's good for you. Okay?" He said and kissed me on the back of the neck.

I scooted closer to my brother in pursuit of his warmth. We watched the late night talk shows and occasionally chuckled. Even with all the seriousness it felt good to laugh a little. It wasn't a cure, but at least it felt like a bit of medicine, a bit of care at the very least. I knew I would take a harder road if I kept the pup, but I didn't feel like I had any other choice. It still felt good to make a decision. It was the first I made after I learned the truth. It was also the hardest. With that behind me I had a plan, or at least a tiny fragment of a plan. In the following days and weeks those little bits would come together into a jury rigged version of the clean-lined blueprint I had before. It was nowhere near finished or comprehensive, but I needed something and it served that purpose. At least I had Dustin. He clung to me as fierce as ever when most would have fled Wayne County if they were in his stead.