My Lolita, Cassandra [RFK/Bobby Kennedy] (Alternate Universe)

Part Nineteen

"The Happiest Brother"

Growing up in the Kennedy manor, Robert wasn't a good brother—he himself would admit it. His parents, though together, walked in two separate paths: the altruistic and the hedonistic. John followed the footsteps of the latter, he was his father's favorite anyway; Robert followed suit, thinking he could at least get CFO; but Ted was the only son who took their mother's hand. His sisters welcomed him, while his laughing brothers derided him in their masculine voices.

But all things grow old, and Robert realized one thing and one thing only: none of them are as happy as the youngest brother—the hippie, the druggie, the runt of the litter. He is uncorrupted, escaping the wrath of blood money by a hair's breadth.

Now, with his car parked in front of a townhouse, Robert ponders when was the last time they'd seen each other. Possibly Diane's Bat Mitzvah; the last time he'd seen her truly happy and beaming in her childish blue dress that cascaded over her knees. A week isn't a long time, yet he has never felt so far away from her mentally and physically.

"Hey, you okay?" You ask, grabbing Robert's shoulder to wake him.

He turns in a rather robotic way to look at you. "Yes," he says. "Are you ready?"

"I don't know, Robert."

"It's fine." He spreads a hand over your thigh, warm like a piece of coal. "Ted's cool, cooler than John."

You inhale sharply—the way he spoke of John is as though what had happened with the man was common knowledge.

"Hell, cooler than me," Robert murmurs.

"Fine, but we're not staying long." There is a noticeable pattern here: you can't say no to him. Anything he wants, he gets. Maybe because that's the way it's always been, maybe it's your unconscious desire to be commanded again—one could never tell.

"We won't," he answers with confidence, though you have a prejudiced feeling it is feigned.

At the doorstep, Robert fixes the collar to his white shirt; he has to look presentable so as not to be ridiculed for his five o'clock shadow and unkempt hair. Then he knocks on the door. You bite your lip—there's no going back now.

Just as Robert opens his mouth to say something to you, the door creaks open. And there stands a man, perhaps a foot taller than Robert and another foot for you; broad-shouldered, square-jawed—a former college athlete, no doubt—and the most robust of the brothers, his eyes lustrously wide as he looks at you.

"Bob, you made it!" He pulls his brother into a hug, though his eyes remain curiously on your face. How scary it is, to meet another man who knew John before he was wicked.

Robert explains why he is in the city—the imaginary conference—then comes the part where he explains you. "This is my niece, Gina," he says. "Her mother let me take her for a tour."

You wonder how he came up with the name, do you remind him of anyone named Gina? Whoever she is, she can't be like Carmen, not in front of Ted.

Ted lifts his eyebrows, smiling. "Gina! How are you?" He then reaches around your shoulders with his Herculean arms—the man's a hugger.

"I'm great..." you answer, giving Robert a hesitant look, but he proceeds to light a cigarette. "So this is Uncle Ted you talked about," you quip when the gentle giant lets you go.

Robert slyly smiles. "Yes, Uncle Ted..." he always likes the games you play when it doesn't involve him; he hates Carmen wholeheartedly, but the jury's still out on Gina.