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Addiction

Chapter Twenty-eight

Twenty-four Frames

By

Rufus Quentin

Late June, 1999

It was hard to believe that the day had come. The attainability of graduation only started to sink in when the cross-hatches on the back of my now frayed notebook began to fill the entire page, and when the sweltering, humid heat of June enveloped me at the end of the seemingly more quickly passing school days. The heat of the West Virginian summer got stuck in the horrible light-blue acetate gown my relatively small graduating class wore, causing discomfort I never would have predicted, as the names of my schoolmates were called over the loudspeaker.

With every called name, I took a few steps closer to the raised platform and podium erected on the football field, where our principal and members of the faculty stood, holding the diplomas we had earned. I was burning up. The emotions swirling through my mind moved too quick and too intertwined to calculate. Pride for the moment seemed to cancel out anxiety and shame. When I looked down I saw my gown catch on my belly, yet another marker of passing time. When I walked, that protrusion seemed all the more obvious. I hoped no one else would notice, aside from those who already knew.

I stood there, anxious and uncomfortable for my father. If it were truly up to me, I would have just let them mail me my diploma. I was there because he asked to see me walk. I couldn't say no. The old man deserved to see the last of his children graduate. Waiting there, well into my second trimester, was also a way of manning up. I was pregnant. This was part of the discipline for having done what I had done. I couldn't hide it forever anyway. By standing there, by walking up those stairs, by standing just as I was in front of the entire population of Wayne, West Virginia, I owned it. I owned the future I'd chosen.

Luckily an A- in physics had spared me from the dishonor of having to give a salutatorian speech. I had to settle for being third in my class, which meant all I had to do was walk up there and take my diploma and honor roll pendant. That was fine with me. It didn't make me feel any less nervous when they called Donahue, then Emerson, and finally Fernandez. Now I was at the head of the line. My heart beat wildly. I looked over my shoulder and beamed a nervous smile at Dustin. He smiled right back at me, looking as dorky as ever in that silly garment and mortarboard. His presence gave me courage. "Alexandra Finlay, Principal's Honor roll." My principal called. Every proud parent and family member in the county applauded for me. My brother nudged me from behind. My foot-paws carried me forward. The rest was just a blur.

My memory only becomes reliable well after my class collectively threw our mortarboards into the air. I found myself standing off to the side, away from the bustle of the recently concluded ceremonies. I stood in a circle with Bryn, Amanda, Heather, and even Jennifer. It seems whatever disagreements we had over the year had been put aside. We all know circumstances put us together, and the personal needs of growing up in Wayne County kept us that way through the duration of high school, but after today, who knew. Dustin was nearby, chatting with his two closest friends. I understood he needed his moment too.

"I can't believe you're leaving so soon," Amanda said.

"Me neither," said Heather.

"Isn't it obvious," I said, standing profile. Meanwhile I'd come out to my circle of friends about the cub. Part of the ownership of the situation was to kill the gossip engine, for better or for worse.

"I'd at least hoped you'd stay local for a few more weeks. I'm not sure what I'm going to do without you," said Bryn. "It's going to be awful working without you at the DQ this year."

I chuckled, "I know. Those were some of the best summers of my life."

"And you guys rocked for hooking me up with free blizzards every now and then," said Jennifer.

"Those were the days," said Bryn.

"You sure you don't want to stay longer?" Amanda asked. "At least long enough for us to throw you a proper baby shower?"

My ears reddened with a blush, though with the flush caused by the heat, nobody noticed. "Can't," I said. "I've got a doctor's appointment on Monday all the way in Charlotte. Need to be packed up and ready to go. I never thought I had this much junk." I smiled, tactfully dodging yet another well intended, but assuredly embarrassing engagement.

"Tomorrow, maybe?" Asked Bryn. "I already got you two presents."

"Me too," said the Lynx.

"Yea, my mom wants to give you my little brother's old crib, plus a lot of other cub stuff," said Jennifer.

"Stop," I said and chuckled. "You're embarrassing me. Plus it looks like we're gonna fill up the truck already."

"So you're not selling the Datsun?" Asked Heather.

"We are," I said. "Unfortunately, when we get there. She's holding up, but, you know, it's a liability. Plus need the money."

"Understandable, but we know how much that truck meant to you," said Heather.

I nodded.

A few seconds later I felt a tap on my shoulder. My father stood behind me with a huge smile on his muzzle. Behind him stood Nate and Chloe. She seemed just as far along as me, judging by her belly. Dustin stood there too, apparently wrangled in before me. "Finally found you," he said, pulling me into a hug. "You looked great up there. Got some pictures, but they might be a bit blurry for you kid. You were in a big hurry to get that piece of paper, weren't you?"

"Don't ask what I was thinking. It all went so fast."

"I'm proud of you two," he said, nodding to me then to Dustin.

"Come on, Dad," Dustin said, relatively embarrassed.

"I know, I know. I'm embarrassing you. That's my job. Just because you're out of my house so soon, doesn't mean I'm gonna stop. Soon it'll be my only job."

"Dad wants pictures," Nate chimed in. He shook the Minolta in his paws.

"It'll just be a minute," he said.

Dustin and I stood on either side of our father, up near the bushes at the edge of campus. I affectionately held onto my dad. Dustin stood on his right with nervous composure, slouching slightly under the weight of his arm. Nate clicked from a few feet away, again and again. We took turns after that. My dad photographed Nate, Dustin and I. Last our dad took a picture of Dustin and me, standing there in those blue gowns. One really has to look carefully at that last pairing to see that there was something more between us. It's completely obvious to me. There was something about how close he stood to me, the confidence with which his paw rested on my flank, the comfort I felt by having him so close seemed expressed on all my features. We both beamed with smiles that didn't need to be rehearsed. The camera caught the look we both sent each other from the corners of our eyes, a coy, silent I love you.

These pictures, as well as the subsequent ones taken with my high school friends still exist. They followed me from home to home, taking places of honor upon shelves and walls. Some are in my living room, others in the hall. A few are in my bedroom, next to my most cherished reminders of my family. It's funny, photographs used to never mean very much to me. After my parents split up, there was either no one left to take pictures of Dustin and I, or no one who wanted to be reminded of where we came from. The only ones I have of us are school photos, or photographs taken by friends, and there aren't that many of those.

After the rush of graduation, a peculiar thing happened. The day after high school arrived. I was completely free from any obligations. Then that day ended, and another began. Each day I woke up later and later, until I missed seeing my brother off to work entirely. Our dad went back to Charleston and Nate went back to Charlotte. With every passing day their congratulations became fewer, and their attention shifted back into their own career concerns. Eventually they didn't reference the fact that I'd overcome high school at all. When we'd talk, they'd ask me how I felt. They'd ask about how the pup was doing. Then they'd move on to other concerns.

My only real goal was to pack up and move out. For about a week I dragged my feet. I didn't touch a thing. It was funny. A year ago my favorite pastime was mentally boxing up my possessions, deciding well in advance which things I could part with, and which I would take into my next life as a college student. Now I wasn't sure what my next life would be, but certainly it would involve me being a mother. I came up with excuses. I needed time off, I said. It was a big logistic effort, and I still needed to plan, I said. In reality it was nostalgia, a reluctance to change. A fear of the future, and a quiet I would surely lose.

Towards the end of June, well after our status as graduates lost its luster, I decided it was time. Perhaps it was just the soul crushing boredom. Before I packed up a thing, I decided I needed to take a record of my life. I picked up my mother's camera, the old Polaroid, and began to take photographs of my room. I shot all four walls, my desk, my bed, the view from my window. I took photographs of my trophy shelf, the pictures of my friends and family, and the rows of knick knacks and belongings I'd accumulated in my nearly nineteen years of existence. When everything was archived on film, I truly felt ready to part with my past.

Dustin didn't seem to be in any hurry either. All the cardboard boxes we'd taken from his work waited empty for him in the hall. The days began to resemble a long wait for him. I'd kill the time with Nintendo, or sorting through my drawers for things I could pawn, and wanted to keep. I confronted my brother about packing after a long day. I'd made him diner, the least I could do to feel somewhat useful. After which he crashed into his bedroom with his TV blaring prime time. His room filled with the amber light of the long summer evenings.

"Hey sis," he said, reclined on his bed. He wore his T-shirt and cargo shorts, which made him look rather boyish for an expectant father.

"Hi Dusty," I said, camera in my paws.

"What's that for?" He asked.

"Can I take some pictures of your room? I figure with us moving, it would be nice to have a record before we go."

Dustin sighed. His ears drooped. He had that look on his face he had when he screwed up, or at least had something of gravity to confess.

"What?" I asked.

"I've been thinking about that," he said, reclining further, speaking up at the ceiling. His crooked ears flicked.

"What do you mean?"

"I might stay here a little bit longer," he said. I knew instantly that there was no "might" about it. He'd already reached his decision.

"Why?" I asked, putting down the camera on the nearest shelf. I strode nearer to Dustin and sat down on the edge of his bed. My paw reached out to caress the fur near his knee. "I thought you were coming with me to Charlotte?"

"I will, but I think it's better if I wait a few more months. Sam says I can do full time. He's even given me my own workstation. With the raise, well, the money ain't bad."

"You can work in Charlotte. There are hundreds of gun shops over there you can work at."

"Possibly, but I have no way of knowing what I'll get. It'll probably take a few weeks to even find a job. If I work full time at Sam's, I'll be bringing in almost a grand a month. I've never seen that kind of money before. That's hundreds of dollars I'd, fuck, no, we'd be losing if I were unemployed in Charlotte for just a few weeks. Then there are no guarantees what I'd even earn in the long run. Might have to end up being a bus boy or some shit. At least now I'm doing what I want and I like it."

"Dusty," I said with disappointment. "We talked about this. I don't want you to get stuck here. None of us do."

"Nate agrees with me. He thinks I should stay, at least for a while longer. Dad's cool with me staying here too. This way I don't have to worry about rent. All the money can go into a bank account. We'll need it when the little guy is here," Dustin said and pointed his muzzle my direction, looking at me as if asking for consent.

"But what about us?" I said, unable to come up with any sensible objections. My logical, sensible side understood the practicality of my brother's decision. A meek, purely emotional appeal was all I had left.

My brother sat up and scooted toward me on the side of his bed. He pulled himself close behind me, sliding his arms around my body, paws coming to rest on my flank, and over the part of my belly his son resided. He hugged me from behind and kissed my mane. "I love you sis," he said. "I promise it'll only be a few months. Once the little guy is around, I'll come hell or high water. You can do some scouting out there. See what kind of jobs are there. We'll need every penny we can get, especially if you're up for school in the fall."

"What about you?" I asked, sliding my paw over Dustin's. I coldly stared straight ahead.

"I'll put my plans on hold for the time being. I can defer my school for a year. We'll see where we are when the cub is older."

"Dusty," I said.

"Look, I promise I won't get stuck here. Working at Sam's is better than I thought, but I know I ain't going to be here forever. It's the same people and the same guns. The challenge just isn't there. I just need the experience. The longer I'm here and the more I do, the better my chances are at finding a job someplace else." He said and pressed another kiss at the nape of my neck.

"I know," I said in defeat. "I'm just worried."

"You're due in September. I promise I'll be there before you give birth."

"That's almost three months away," I said.

"I know," he said and held me tighter.

"I don't know what I'll do without you," I said, perceiving the rather potent and unnamable sensation of loss to a degree I hadn't felt since I held that positive pregnancy test in my paws. Like then the news was too fresh. I held back tears as if I'd forgotten how to cry. In teenage years three months is nearly an eternity. Loves can be made or broken in mere weeks. A million "what ifs" circulated in my mind as we sat there in the golden light of June.

"You'll be fine," Dustin said, nosing through my mane. "You've got Nate and Chloe."

"I don't want to go," I said, as if I could rewrite my future once more.

Dustin sighed. "Don't make this harder than it is. I know you want to go. You have to, even if just for the hospitals. What if something happens? What if you go into labor when I'm not around? What if there are complications. It'll be better in North Carolina."

"I know," I said.

"Don't get stuck here," Dustin said, taking the words out of my muzzle.

"Three months," I said.

"It'll go by quick," he said and chuckled. "Think of how fast the last few have gone by. It seems like just yesterday you told me about this guy," he continued, caressing my distended belly. "That was just three months ago."

"Those were some hard three months," I said.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with the brunt of it," he said. "But it passed and now we're here, better for it."

"It's not going to get easier, is it?" I said.

"I don't know," Dustin said, with a light hearted quizzical intonation. "You know, I know there's gonna be hard times. That's why I'm working. Be prepared, as they say. But that's not what motivates me. I'm looking forward to meeting the little guy. God, I can't wait to see him. Every day I think about it. I think about you, holding him. I'm thinking about the first time they let me see the two of you together. I think about the first time you hand him over to me. That's what gets me through the day. Sure, it'll be a bitch to make ends meet for a while, but there's living together to look forward to, to our first Christmas as a trio, to next summer and first birthdays. One little thing at a time."

"I love you Dusty," I said and squeezed his paw.

"And I love you too, Alex," he said and began to shift. He let me recline on my back and came to rest beside me. His muzzle hovered over mine.

"What if something happens over the summer? What if when we see each other again, you won't see me the way you see me now?" I asked, ears demurely swept back.

Dustin inched down and kissed me. Our lips pressed together. A moment later we allowed things to escalate, involving our tongues in a chase of passion in a way we hadn't in far too long. My brother tugged up the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it up over my pregnant belly. His fingers swept through the exposed fur and his paw-pads caressed the taught, slightly rounded skin.

I closed my eyes and let the kiss become my world. I took comfort in my brother's familiar tastes and scents, and in reacquainting myself with the accustomed shape of his canine tongue and fangs. I matched his predictable course between our muzzles and welcomed his persistent attempts to pin my tongue within my muzzle. I'll confess that over the past year I started to take making out for granted, even if it was with my biological brother and therefore deeply taboo. We did it so often either as a planned step to further escalations, or as an ends in itself. I wouldn't say it lost its specialness. It always got my heart racing, but perhaps I stopped appreciating it as much as I should have. Now as I lay there on my back, for the first time fearing the loss of such affections, I learned to value each second and each sensation. I did my best to take in my fill, to imbibe in Dustin's love while I had the chance.

Eventually our lips parted, but not out of satiation. I gazed down my muzzle and up his, into his face, and smiled. I reached up and let my fingers sink into the mane of the handsome, male rough collie above me. The flavor of my brother's kiss persisted on my tongue. That sensory detail, more than any of the more obvious signs, made it clear how irredeemably far I'd gone with my sibling. The teenage perception of time distorts a great deal, as does the fact that we were the only couple we'd ever known that truly knew each other for an eternity. Despite amorously admiring Dustin's blaze stripe and all the patterns mirrored on my face and coat, it became easy to forget our parentage and blood ties. So many times I've made love to that body, the sharer of all my visible traits, forgetting the audacity of our behavior. Strangely all it took was the mere taste of my brother licked from my lips to remind me that what we just enjoyed was far beyond the limits society imposed upon family. The countless sordid memories awakened by Dustin's scent and the resultant life beneath his paw-pads were all part of the greatest taboo. For all its disadvantages, I rediscovered one unmistakable element that gave me comfort.

"Alex," Dustin said his voice as comforting as his presence.

"I know what you're thinking," I said. "I'm thinking it too."

"I'll always be your brother," he said, caressing my mane and ears.

"And I'll always be your sister," I replied.

"We'll make this work," he said. "For the summer, and afterwards."

"I know," I said and sighed. My paw swept along my brother's muzzle. I felt his whiskers beneath my paw-pads and watched them perk upright as I passed. Somehow this young man had seen past all the faults I'd exposed to him over the span of our lifetimes. For reasons I'll never fully comprehend he became more than just my boyfriend, my mate, and the father of my child. "I need you," I continued, even though I never finished the sentence. It had too many possible conclusions.

Dustin is amazing because he somehow instinctively knew which role I needed him to play. He lay beside me and combed my fur with his claws. He didn't kiss me again, or try to pursue more. His presence was what I needed, and that he gave me. My brother and I rested together on his bed, innocent and close. He gave me the comfort I subconsciously needed. His caring touch gave me the physical contact I needed and abated my worries. Sometimes I needed a lover. Dustin fit that role well. In the future I would need a father for my child. Dustin seemed more capable by the day of doing that job well. Sometimes I just needed my brother back, an ear to confide in and a steady pillar on which to lean. For the moment, that's what I needed most and Dustin rose to the challenge. Incest frequently confuses things and makes the roles and the boundaries between them blurry. This sad fact makes the instances of clarity all the more precious. He accompanied me as the summer light transitioned from yellow, to purple, to gray. He held me until his facial patterns faded into the dark and the crickets sang their return beyond the open window.

It's a weird practice, going through every possession you ever owned. It actually amazed me just how much crap my small, 10'' by 10'' bedroom absorbed over the nineteen years of my existence. Though I put it off for a while, the time had come to do what I'd fantasized about since the beginning of high school. It felt strangely bittersweet to go through every drawer and clean off every shelf, sorting all my worldly goods into piles to keep or toss out. You notice that every little thing has a purpose, a narrative encapsulated within. Holding an old toy, a piece of cloth, or a photograph seems to trigger an electric spark. It sends memories flooding back. It bears emotions you rarely feel. It reveals a power that leads you to question, whether or not you are in control of your possessions, or if through some way, they control you.

My father told me I could keep the room after I left. I didn't need to get rid of everything. I could come back at any time. I still thought it best if I parted with as much stuff as I could. It took a few days, but every night I went to bed my walls were more naked than the day before, my shelves more bare, and my drawers more empty. My last night at home felt almost uncanny. My room was stripped down to the essentials and I lived out of an open suitcase. I felt like sneaking over to my brother, to spend the night in a much more homey room, beside body warmth I knew I wouldn't have in months, but our father was home, having insisted on being there to see me off. As such I tossed and turned, finding it harder to fall asleep while pregnant, not at all helped by the echo-inducing emptiness of what was once my bedroom.

The day I moved out was a Sunday, a week after I originally planned. We had breakfast as a family, something we hadn't done in months. Dustin and my father helped pack the Crown Vic with the boxes I'd need to take with me. Most were books, because I still held out hope that college would be possible. I still hadn't delayed my acceptance, though I reserved the right to do so for a few more weeks. For now I went through the motions as if that were all I left for.

"God, this is looking sad," my dad said, stepping into my room in the early afternoon. I was down to a few boxes, just the last decisions remained.

"Tell me about it," I said, as I stood over my suitcase, making room for a few last belongings. I took a break from what I was doing, and painfully hoisted myself onto the side of my freshly made bed.

"It's not going to be easy without you here scout," he said.

I chuckled and blushed slightly. I averted my ears and gaze so my father wouldn't see. "I'll miss you too, dad," I said.

"I'll be honest. I've been dreading this day for years," he said.

"I was looking forward to it, but not so much now. Now that it's here, it's hard."

"Chin up," he said. "I know things didn't go as expected, but you still have a bright future." My father meandered over the boxes and sat down beside me. He threw his arm around my shoulder and he placed a kiss beside my ear.

Given the strong emotions of my graduation and my last two weeks at home, I figured I did a good job of managing my outward appearance. That broke down in that instant. I cracked, just for an instant. I sniffled and my vision grew blurry. My body shuddered. I bit my lip and pulled myself together, but too late.

"Hey," my dad softly said.

"I'm alright," I said. "This isn't how I wanted it to go," I vented, trembling.

"Trust me, I know the feeling." He said.

"I'm sorry," was all I could think of saying.

"Don't be," he said. "I'm happy for you. You're way better off than I was at your age. I can't tell you how many times I fucked up when I was your age."

"Dad," I said surprised, scolding my father for his use of language.

"You've heard worse," he said, which was true. "I was broke," he said, after a long pause, "back then. Completely."

"Dad, you don't have to tell me this," I said.

"I had a few run-ins with the sheriff, which didn't help. I was like Dustin before you whipped him into shape. If it weren't for your mother," he continued.

"Please," I said. "I don't want to hear this."

"I know," he said, "and I'm sorry. I just wanted to let you know, that when I was your age, I got trapped. I had no money. I just had your mother. Then all of a sudden Nate was on the way. I didn't know what to do. I needed money, and well, I took whatever job I could get. You, well, you ain't got it easy, but better. You got your own little guy on the way, but you're free. You've got every college in the country after you. You've got a head on your shoulders that's a hell of a lot brighter than mine ever was. And you're good, no thanks to me."

"Dad," I sad, fighting back urge to succumb to the turmoil in my heart.

"I'll stop," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," he said. "You've got nothing to be sorry about. You're family. If anything, you should be mad at me. I wasn't there for you. I wasn't careful enough. I let you guys raise yourselves. You all surprised me by how you came out. Then I let my guard down. That was my mistake. I'm sorry."

"No," I said.

"Listen," he said. "You'll make mistakes. Sometimes you make mistakes and they turn out as miracles. I know that's how it's going to turn out. Just have patience and be there. Okay? I'm here too. I'm here to help."

At that point I was openly sobbing.

"Alex," he said, his paw doing his best to comfort me with broad paternal strokes. "You're free. Nate will get you set up. You're going to get that education, and you're going to do good things. You'll fly."

"I love you dad," I said, catching myself once more.

"And I love you too, kid," he said.

My father stood up. He gave me the gruff but loving pat between the ears he usually just gave his boys. It took me years to earn that masculine treatment from him and brought a smile to my muzzle, even though my cheeks were wet. He looked around my room once more, at all the bare shelves and surfaces. He shook his head a final time. Then he bent down and picked up the nearest box, which just happened to be box filled with the pornography Dustin gave me back in September, in which I'd precariously stashed our rather amateurish homemade polaroids.

"Dad!" I said, In shock and horror.

"What?" He said, looking at the inconspicuous cardboard. "Where does this go?"

"That stays," I blurted. "That's Dustin's."

"Oh?"

"I'll take it over myself." I said

"You sure? It's heavy?"

"I'll manage."

"What is it?" He said, shaking it.

"Just random crap I borrowed from him over the years. Just... Just leave it there. I'll have him deal with it."

"Whatever you say, chief," the older rough collie said, dropping the box unceremoniously by my foot-paws. "Let me know when you're ready. I'll see you off," he said, turning my way before leaving my room. "This ain't gonna be easy though. You know we're gonna starve without your cooking."

Dustin came by a few minutes after our father. His reaction was similar to our dad's. "Holy fuck sis," he said, looking around.

"You asshole," I said, going through one of the last Goodwill boxes for anything else worth salvaging.

"What?" He asked, always the innocent one.

I nodded in the direction of the porn box.

Dustin strode to it and opened it. "Holy fuck, porn!" He said, loudly.

"Shhh," I warned. "Dad's still here, you idiot. He almost took that with him."

"I'm sure he needs it," he said. "I might slip some of these his way."

"Eww," I said.

"Where do you think these came from?" Dustin said, shuffling through covers from the early 80s. "This one's his, I know for a fact." He pulled out one with a slutty poodle on the cover with a very dated fur-cut.

"You guys, I'm learning more about dad today than I ever wanted."

"What he say?" Dustin asked.

"More than I wanted to hear. He always wants to reminisce around me."

"You remind him of mom," he said.

"Don't say that," I replied.

"You do. Just look what I found," he said, pulling a high school photograph out of his pocket and handed it to me.

"Eww," I said, taking and beholding the picture. It was definitely our mother in her prom dress next to our father. Taking a closer look it seemed that our mother had more courage about going to the prom pregnant than I did. A slight bump shone through her early seventies, velvety prom dress. The resemblance I'd noticed before was definitely there more than in any other picture.

"That's why he gets weird around you," Dustin said. "Bad memories."

"I just thought it was because we were the last," I said.

"Probably a factor, but you are his only girl."

I shook my head and returned the photograph to Dustin.

"Anyway, if you're done with these, I'll gladly take them back," he said, taking the photo and closing the box.

"Be my guest," I said. "It'd be weird if I took 'em. By the way, the special ones are in there too. From the fall."

"Hell, yes," Dustin said, tearing open the box again, frantically trying to find the mentioned polaroids.

"On the right, the envelope," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Fuck," Dustin said, locating the stash. He quickly produced the bundle of white framed photos, the ones I'd hidden from him for months. He shamelessly flipped through them, as if it didn't bother him that our dad could still be lurking. "These came out real good," he continued. "Fuck, look at this one." He pointed out a splayed legged image of me.

"Perv," I said.

"Trust me, I'll need these when you're gone," he said.

"Gonna paw yourself raw?"

"You fucking know it. Going from sex on the reg to nothing at all. Fuck. Three months."

"Or more," I said. "Don't know how fuckable I'll be immediately after the pup, or how good it's gonna feel. Shit, if it's vaginal, it'll be like throwing a toothpick down a well."

"That's okay," he said, still admiring the retro-seeming Polaroids. "Ask for a husband stitch."

"You're not my husband," I jested.

"Brother stitch then?" He said, looking up at me, ears crooked.

"You just want to get slapped, don't you?" I said with a sly accusatory glare.

"Depends where," he said, matching my gaze.

"Be careful what you wish for," I warned, threatening him with the back of my paw.

"This," he said, flicking me the Polaroid of me presenting.

I picked it up, and looked at the version of myself showing off some blurry vaginal pink. "Fuck," I said, "I do look like mom."

"Eww," Dustin said. "Don't ruin it."

"Seriously, this is where you draw the line, bro?" I said, emphasizing the term of endearment.

"Weird, you know I don't think you've ever called me that," he said.

"Bro? I haven't. You call me sis all the time though."

"It sounds weird coming from you," Dustin said.

"Remind me to use it when I'm tied to you. See if it gets you to cum faster," I whispered. "See what kind of a perv you really are."

The both of us looked to the door; thankfully no one was around to overhear us. "I think we're all hopelessly fucked up," Dustin said. "Dad probably paws himself off thinking you're mom. Now you got me concerned I might have an Oedipal complex."

"Might? As if there is any room for doubt. Either way, you just knocked up your sister," I jested.

Dustin chuckled. "You're getting used to it, aren't you?"

My smile left my muzzle. I shook my head with an air of ambivalence, but ultimately nodded. "It's sunk in. So long as he's healthy, I'm okay with it. That's all I'm really hoping for."

"You seem different," Dustin said. "You're mood's better."

"Meh," I uttered. "It's been a hard week. I wouldn't say these are my best times."

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Sad," I said, "but only because I'm moving. Wish you were coming with me."

"I wish I were too," He said. "When are you leaving?"

"Soon," I said. "Before dark."

"I wanted to know if you wanted to go for a walk before you go?" My brother said. "I could use a few more of these." He showed me the Polaroids from the fall as if they were a hand of cards.

I chuckled, "I can't. But maybe we can grab a couple of shots for the road?" I reached into my still open suitcase on the floor and pulled out the bulky Polaroid camera. "I need some more of you anyway."

"I don't think dad would appreciate me buck naked on the couch right now, sis." Dustin said.

"Not that kind of shots, dork." I said. "I want to get some of you as you are right now."

"Uh, horny?" Dustin said with a sly grin.

"Uh, dorky. Just like you always are." I said, pulling the camera up and grabbing a pic of him standing awkwardly in the middle of my room.

"Gee, thanks. I would have dressed up a little if I knew that's the kind of pics we'd be doing."

"Shut up and smile." I said, clicking again.

Dustin gave a wide cheesy smile as I took another photo. "Ok, now my turn." Dustin said, reaching over and snatching the camera from me.

"Hey, you're going to just break it." I said, unable to hook the camera's lanyard as Dustin took a couple of steps back.

"I have documentation to do, for my son." Dustin said checking the camera and turning it towards me. "Now show me where my little guy is hiding."

I stared and simply pointed at my belly without moving.

Dustin looked over the camera. "Thats terrible, just pull up your shirt. You know you are going to want to see these later on anyway."

"Fine," I said, pulling up my shirt and exposing my noticeably pregnant bump.

"Thats better, now just a little smile from momma."

"Call me that again and I'll make sure this cub is your last, ever." I said, not amused.

"You're going to be hearing that word a lot very soon. You best get used to it. Now come on, I want this cub to have some pictures to look back at, not like us." Dustin said with a slight lowering of his ears.

His words hit home. The cruelness of our situation, the complete absence of any evidence of where we came from surged viscerally like a lump in my throat. We weren't the only ones to grow up with a single parent, but everyone else we knew at least had an address for their missing mom or dad, even if that address was a cemetery plot. A tombstone is still something, someplace. This absence of even a place to pay respects was perhaps the most frustrating part of growing up, even if our mother wasn't worth paying respect to. Then there was the absence of pictures. The only ones we grew up with, and were pointed to when we asked, were the few along the staircase wall, including a wedding photo, a family portrait with Nate and Danny as cubs, and a solitary portrait of her in her mid-twenties. All of them were like ghosts, this stranger somehow intimately close with my family.

I couldn't help but interpret my mother's absence as wrong. I certainly don't wish for anyone to grow up, convinced of their own mother's fallibility from infancy. Perhaps that's why I decided to keep the pup. It's certainly why I decided to become an archivist of sorts. The photographs would be a record, I'm not sure for what. At least they will give my pup a window into my choices and thoughts, a piece of my history viewed through the window of a Polaroid frame. The reverse of that process helped me see myself, not only in the physical similarity, but also in the emotional states of the ghost rough collie on the walls of my home.

"Right." Was about the only word I managed to softly speak. I laid back on my bed a bit and propped myself up with an elbow. I tucked my shirt under my bra and slightly tugged my pants down, showing the entirety of my belly. I looked back at Dustin as he roamed about looking for a good angle. I perked my ears a bit and put on a smile, my thoughts roaming between those of our mother, and of how our son would look at these pictures and what he would think of us.

"Much better," Dustin said, snapping a couple of pictures as he roamed around for different angles, including one of a close of my belly in full focus.

I tried a couple of poses on the bed then stood up. I stood profile and placed a paw on my belly, looking down upon the gentle curve. I heard another click of the camera, then looked over at Dustin. The camera clicked again. "This isn't right." I said.

Dustin lowered the camera with a confused look on his face. "What? Why not?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

I rubbed my belly again. "Because you aren't in the shot."

Dustin smiled a little in relief. "This has a timer doesn't it?" He said, turning the camera over in his paws.

"Give it here," I said, taking a step closer to him and taking the camera. I played with the settings a moment, honestly trying to figure them out myself. "By the window," I said, placing the camera atop a couple of stacked books on my dresser. The camera whirred as I darted across the room to meet my brother. "We should have discussed poses first I guess." I said as the camera timed out and the undoubtable click caught us awkward and unfocused, sitting side by side. Dustin swung his arm around my shoulder just in time. I sat there, paws on my lap, looking rather anxious. This later became one of my favorite pictures of us since it wasn't rehearsed, but caught us more or less as we were every day together. The chemicals inside a Polaroid keep developing over time. Now that I look at the image, it's faded and whitewashed. It's instant nature now fates it to a quick decay. We look as if we were photographed in our parents time, and not the 90s, an effect adding to the uncanny nature of the picture. It's hard to believe we were ever so young. I hardly recognize the skinny young rough collie Dustin used to be, or the nervous, pregnant girl I once inhabited.

"Yup," Dustin said looking over at me. "Stop wasting my precious film."

"Your precious film? When did you ever buy it?" I said nudging him in the shoulder.

"When did you ever buy it?" He said in a mocking voice as I returned to the camera to reset it.

"Last Thursday. Mom's stash ran out and I wanted more." I said turning to him with a triumphant grin. "Now what pose do you want?"

"Then stop wasting 'your' precious film then," Dustin said, positioning himself in front of the window. "How about you just stand in front of me so I can hold your belly too?"

"Isn't that a little too, redneck prom?" I asked.

"Then you make the call."

"Fine, just stand there and I'll lead." I said, resetting the timer and rushing back to Dustin. "Just be natural." I reached the window and faced Dustin. I grabbed his paw and placed it on my belly as the timer whirred on. I looked up and noticed he simply gazed at my belly. The camera clicked and the muffled sound of the photo rung out. Dustin still stared down, his paw moving over my exposed fur. A moment later he pulled me into a hug. I found myself instinctively welcoming his closeness. My nose sank into his fur. It saddened me that I would have to do without the comfort of his scents.

Dustin was silent a moment, then finally asked. "How much film do you have left?"

"Should be, half a cartridge by now?"

Dustin looked at the closed door, then at the clock. "I still want to get a couple more pictures then, for when you are gone."

"Go figure," I said, predicting my brother's ulterior motives. "You know dad's home right?"

"It'll be fast. Just a few," he reassured.

"This is risky." I said. "We made it this far. Don't want to blow it all now."

"Come on," he said, picking up the camera. His ears and tail twitched in a sign of outright impatience.

"You fucker," I said. "How are we even gonna do this?"

"Just on the bed. You don't have to get all the way undressed. In and out in five minutes."

"You are never in and out in five minutes," I said, moving over to one of my empty bookshelves near the door. I put my shoulder into it, but could only get it to budge an inch.

"What are you doing?" Dustin asked.

"Barricading us in. In case dad, you know?" I said. "Little help here?"

"He's gonna hear this," he said, but nonetheless took my place. It was far easier for him to heave the empty furnishing in front of the door. The shelf ground against the floor for the two or three feet before it budged into place. It would have to do, for now. Dustin proudly dusted off his paws, or at least pretended to do so after his show of strength. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"You're the crazy one. Damn, this is risky."

"Better hurry then."

"You really want this?"

"Of course."

"Fine, what do you need?" I stood feeling shy, shifting my weight from ankle to ankle. I didn't mind that my brother saw me naked anymore, even pregnant. Those days were long gone. Being photographed was another story. Being photographed while clothed was bad enough. I figured I'd make the ordeal quick. Despite my hesitance I tugged my shirt off over my muzzle with alacrity.

"No, stop. A little slower than that." Dustin said, grabbing the camera and glancing back at the barricaded door. "Just...on the bed." He said, waving a paw.

I sighed and continued to struggle out of my shirt, taking it with me as I climbed onto my bed. "We don't have much time."

"I know, I know. Just slow down a little." He pulled the camera up and snapped a shot of me lying crosswise on the bed with my shirt draped over a shoulder. My bra disguised my upper torso.

I smiled and dropped the shirt from my shoulder, then reached back one pawed to undo my bra, bracing myself up an elbow. The garment slacked off my breasts. I moved a bit slower than before, but still retained that urgency from being caught in my room, with my brother, half-naked.

Dustin clicked the camera again and looked up, observing my lack of covering for himself. I could see his eyes glance over my bare breasts and nipples. I glanced down at the myself, aware of the risk and absurdity.

"A little more," he said, "but take it slow."

"We're so gonna get caught," I said. It felt hard to keep my paws from racing. It took concentration to make my fingers slowly undo my belt and unbutton my jeans. My brother photographed me again and again as I rolled to my back and brought slack to my pants. He stepped around the bed in search of sexy angles as I raised my hips and deliberately tugged the denim off my hips. I tried to make the struggle of ridding myself of the clothing seem attractive and erotic. Soon I lay with my pants bunched at my ankles, in nothing more than boxers. My pregnant belly felt as damning as ever.

"You don't have to look at the camera," Dustin said, forcing a squeak and creak out of my desk-chair as climbed up on it for a few top-down photographs.

I covered my breasts and looked away in no particular direction.

"More natural," he said, his ears almost touching the ceiling. "This isn't an indy-rock album cover. Look less disinterested."

I tried to keep my breasts hidden under an arm. My other paw caressed my belly. I gazed down, trying to look maternal. It was tasteful, though later inspection of the photograph saw my nipples poorly hidden by the long wisps of fur on my arms.

"Now lose the boxers," he said.

My brother stepped down off the chair as I sat up. He took another three photographs of me kicking the jeans off my foot-paws and tugging the elastic of my boxers off my butt and hips. I turned to the camera, gaze averted with reverence, naked and visibly anxious. Dustin photographed that pose too. He smiled as the camera whirred away. My brother walked around me as I came to rest, stretched across my bed in total nudity. I eased into natural poses, ones in which I didn't appear stiff and wooden. My paws returned to my belly. I gazed down with maternal reverence, as if about to address the life within me. Dustin snapped a picture here and there. For the most part I kept my breasts covered and my legs closed, preferring the demure, mature, poses that would suggest I would be a mother of pride and grace. Dustin gave me instruction, altered my position, and nudged my muzzle and ears into place. I ended up, feigning sleep on the quilt. I left my breasts in view. My paws rested on my belly as if sharing a dream with my future pup.

"You look beautiful," my brother said, standing by the edge of the bed at my foot-paws, waving a Polaroid around as if he could make it develop faster.

I sat up, stretched, and reached out, groping the stride of my brother's pants out of curiosity. The results were as expected. "At least you're being honest," I said, noticing the outline of my brother's penis sticking out of his much stiffer feeling sheath. I rolled on my back, into a more sultry looking position than I would have dared earlier. My thighs spread submissively. I did nothing to cover my breasts and pregnancy. Only my tail curled up and covered my sex, as if it were the only part of my body with a sense of moral decency.

"Well fuck," Dustin said, gazing down at his pitched tent, as if having a boner really surprised him. "Yep. The little fella doesn't lie."

"That kinda honesty is gonna get you in trouble," I said, smiling from my position. The tip of my tail flicked from left to right, teasing my familial spectator by hinting at what lay beneath.

Dustin lifted the camera again and took another snapshot of me in my less-than-tasteful pose. "Already has. Like a million times already."

"And yet you never learn?" I asked, as Dustin stood between my ankles. He photographed my tail without even looking through the eyepiece.

"Oh I learn," he said, grabbing my tail and tugging it away from the more desirable view of his sister's intimates. With the paw he awkwardly photographed between my thighs to produce a no doubt blurry image of said girl-parts. "It's just like one percent of the time I don't let my lessons influence my behavior. Sometimes I want to get into trouble, just a little bit. Some laws are meant to be broken. Life would be boring otherwise. You know I've always been that way."

"Fucker," I said, protesting the latest intimate photo. "Is that why you fuck your sister?" I jested and beamed a wicked smile at my sibling. My body didn't react, lying permissive to Dustin's slow repositioning between my knees. The only physical response came in the form of a racing heart and a shortness of breath, though I remained otherwise still.

"Hey now," Dustin said, finally laying aside the camera. He fell forward, bracing himself over my torso. "I just wanted to spend a little quality time with you, sis, before you abandon me for months on end. Who said anything about fucking?"

My paws reached up and caressed my sibling's flanks, fingertips delving under his shirt and sinking into his fur in pursuit of skin. I could almost hear my heart thumping wildly in my ears as I began to unbutton my brother's jeans. He stood idly by, watching my fingers do their work without a single word of protest. It was beyond risky, but so long as the house was silent, it meant we could get away with just a little bit of teasing. I personally had no idea how far things would go. I just wanted to experience my brother while I still had the chance.

With Dustin's button and fly open, my fingers went further south. His fur grew coarse and curly. Shortly thereafter my paws bumped into his sheath. I took furry pouch and protruding maleness into my paw, guiding it out of his pants. I strained to get a look at his dark pink canine tip and gave the exposed tapered length a few quick strokes. "Playing innocent only works if you've got clothes on. You just said your little guy doesn't lie, and well, he seems to be pretty into the idea of committing incest one more time. Told ya you'd get into trouble, but then, we both know this is precisely the trouble you're looking for," I said, pawing my brother's increasing length.

"Fuck," Dustin said. Both our ears swiveled behind us. Heavy steps forced creaks from the noisy staircase. That impediment of childhood mischief now served as an early warning system. Dustin pulled off me before I could even ask him. He left me naked and spread eagle on my own bed. I didn't stay in that position for more than a fraction of a second. Dustin quickly tugged his jeans back up and worked with great difficulty to cram his erection back into his boxers. He cursed a few more times, suffering discomfort I'd never know, zipping himself up over his blue balls and hard-on. I pranced nude around my bed, gathering clothing in my arms.

"Hide," I commanded, falling onto my bed as I struggled to get my foot-paws into my jeans. Dustin looked around, desperate. Then he looked at me and shrugged. "Closet." I said, buckling up comando. He hopped into the closet and slid the door shut in front of him, just as our dad knocked on the door.

"Sport," our dad said, knocking and turning the knob.

"Just a minute," I said, pulling my shirt over my head. To my shock it was on backwards. My dad tried to push the door in, but failed against our barricade.

"Hold on," I said, correcting my shirt for what felt like an eternity. After which I raced around, trying to find all the developing Polaroids, which I stuffed beneath my pillow, just in the nick of time.

"What's going on in here?" My dad asked, managing the door open a crack. His muzzle peeked in, luckily I was clothed. My foot-paw kicked my bra under my bed, hopefully unseen by my father.

"Sorry dad. Can you help a little bit. I was moving some stuff around, doing some deep cleaning," I lied.

"Jesus H. Christ," my dad said. "Barricading yourself in here? I thought you wanted to leave?"

My ears sank. I felt guilty, until it dawned on me he was joking. "That's right." I said, "I had a change of heart. Don't you dare take me away from here."

My dad pushed the door in. He put his back into it, and within a moment the empty bookcase was back in it's place. "If that's what you want, kiddo, by all means you can stay." He smiled. "Just don't tease your father, okay? You got my hopes up there for a second."

I smiled and realized I was out of breath. I tried not to make it seem that way. "I'm almost ready. Keep finding stuff. God, I'm amazed about how much crap I had."

"It's understandable. I just wanted to let you know you need to head out soon. You're already running late. I'd rather not have you driving in the dark."

"I'm almost ready," I said. "Just a few more boxes."

"Just leave what you don't need. You don't have to get rid of everything. Hopefully you'll be back sometime," Dad said, smiling expectantly.

"I'll come back," I said.

"I'll keep the place just how you left it. You'll always have a bed here. Can always set up a crib in Dustin's room."

"I heard that," Dustin said, sweeping open the closet door. Both of us looked with surprise as my brother suddenly stood in the room, heaving up a heavy box of books. "Damnit dad, don't you go giving away my room. First you make me live with this bitch until I'm fucking twelve, now you're already plotting on kicking me out of the house now that she's gone gotten herself knocked up. Great parenting, dad. You're really giving me a lot of incentives to succeed and shit." He said to both our shocked expressions. "Where do you want this sis?" He said, referring to the box in his paws.

"Uhm," I stammered. "How many times do I have to tell you? If the box is closed, it goes into the car! It ain't rocket science, Dusty. Closed boxes go, everything else stays."

"I just figure I'd ask. Don't really feel like gettin' chewed out again. Fuckin' stress making your hormones all crazy and shit," Dustin said, fully letting his accent shine.

"Be nice Dustin," our dad said.

"Sorry Miss. Finlay," Dustin said with a toothy grin. "I do request that you forgive my lapse in demeanor. The summer heat surely does affect one's nerves. I'll have you know I am at your beck and call, madame," he said, channeling his best southern dandy. He bowed and walked past us into the hall, audibly grumbling, "always fuckin' takin' her side," through clenched fangs.

"I'll bet you'll miss him," Dad said with a smirk, nodding over his shoulder.

"You'd be surprised. He grows on you."

"You must see something in him I don't. You guys have spent a lot of time together this year. Though I gotta say, I gotta thank you for whipping him into shape. That boy's making me proud of him."

"Ehh," I said and shrugged, feeling a blush around my muzzle that came from multiple forms of embarrassment. "Call it Stockholm Syndrome."

"Whatever it is, you guys really know how to confuse me."

"Most of it's intentional," I said, trying to sow a trail of breadcrumbs away from the most awful conclusions.

"Go figure," he said. "Was that why he was in your closet?"

"Guilty," I said and smiled. "Dustin wanted to try and give you a heart attack. I told him not to, for the record."

"Figures. You know I'm getting older right? You guys might actually be successful. My dad had three by my age."

"No dad," I sung. "Stay healthy. Okay?" I hugged my father, and held him tight. I really would miss the guy. "Don't forget to eat right okay? Never add any salt. Try and buy fresh, if possible. I left you a list of things you need to keep stocked. My recipe book is by the fridge. If you stick to it, you'll be fine."

"Just don't startle me, okay sport?"

"It was Dustin's idea."

"Why do I have the feeling you're both in on it? I kinda have the vibe that there is more going on than I can see."

I stiffened and felt guilty. "Nothing you'd want to see," I said.

"I've got weird shenanigans happening under my own roof."

"It's just because we are twins," I said nervously, twisting the corners of my muzzle into a forced smile.

"God, I love you guys," he said. "You both turned out great. Real chips off the old block."

"I love you too, dad. But like I said, please please watch your diet?"

"Of course I will," he said. "Now as much as it hurts to say, it's time to pack up and think about leaving, okay?"

"Okay dad," I said and squeezed him a final time.

My dad grabbed the last box and exited the room. I quickly gathered my missing clothes and arranged myself a bit better, slyly and hastily making up for my rather embarrassing lapse of chastity. I couldn't believe we went so far while our dad was in the house. Fuck, perhaps if he were around during the fall, none of this would have happened. I tossed the camera into my suitcase and retrieved the photos from their hiding spot. I only managed a quick once through on them before tossing a few into my suitcase and latching it closed. I palmed the rest and darted to Dustin's room, tucking them under his pillow in the mess of a bed he had left. I knew he'd find them sooner or later. After returning to my room I sighed as I looked over the place one last time. The bare walls and bookshelves pierced my heart like the sight of a slaughtered animal. Only a few token reminders preserved any proof that this humble room had been the center of my life for as long as memory served me. Without delving into any further melancholy I grabbed my suitcase and headed down stairs.

Dustin met me by the Crown Vic. He took my suitcase and heaved it in the trunk, tetrising it into place beside the rest of my worldly possessions. It dawned on me that all my worldly possessions fit in a four door sedan.

"So this is it," my brother said, after slamming the trunk closed. He dusted off his paws and looked at me.

"Yea," I said, shyly, somehow resisting eye contact.

Dustin stepped closer and hugged me. My arms draped along my sides, but I couldn't resist for long. My paws snuck up his back and clutched him close. My brother pressed a kiss on the bridge of my muzzle. He waited for a kiss on the lips, which I denied him. After nearly getting caught, I felt a bit wary about showing too much affection. "No kiss?" He whispered.

I silently pecked a kiss onto his muzzle, a short one. My eyes met his. I wish I they hadn't. It took all my effort not to get emotional. "This'll have to do," I said.

"Wish we could'a had one more round." He said.

"Me too," I said, as my back-swept ears perceived the sound of approaching paw steps. I pulled my brother into a tight hug, just as my father swung open the door. I let go of my sibling, and turned to give my father the same treatment, an innocent but affectionate hug. "And I'll miss you too, dad," I said, nose buried in my father's chest.

"I'll miss you too, kiddo," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Been dreading this moment longer than you've been looking forward to it."

"Oh dad," I said. "You'd be surprised how hard this is."

"Remember this, okay? Promise me you'll enjoy having your little guy around. Cherish every day. In just a few quick years, you'll be in my shoes and you'll be the one saying goodbye."

"I will, dad," I said, not knowing what else to say. My dad was a master of guilt, as I've mentioned. His sadness was contagious.

"Anyway, you better go. I'll be bawling and you'll be late. It'll be late as hell by the time you make it there."

"I know," I said, but it took a while before I found the fortitude to let go. Dustin got another hug, as if I'd forgotten that I'd already given him one. "Bye," I said, calmly.

"Bye, sis," he said, giving me a chaste hug in front of our father.

We let go sooner than we both prefered. That much was obvious. We looked at each other, confessing more intimate emotions. "I left you a few things in your room. Take good care of them alright?"

"I threw in a few of my own things into the back seat. Err, stuff I borrowed from you over the years," he corrected.

"Thanks," I said, already reaching for the door.

I climbed in and buckled up. The engine turned over without a hitch. I adjusted the rearview mirror and looked out the window. My father and brother stood there, side by side, expectantly awaiting my departure. We were all weary of goodbyes. I was just taking their time now. I put the Crown Vic into reverse, and began my trek down the driveway. I waved a final time. They waved back and turned and meandered back to the front door. Only my dad waited for me to reach the highway and speed out of sight. I'm not sure how long he remained there, standing on the step as my taillights rounded the bend.