Surviving the Andersen Brothers

Motorcycle I

Nothing. Not a single thing happened to me since the moment Lucas’ hand found the mouse trap on his light switch to the time I reached the house after school the following day. Maybe Vincent was right. My attack would have been the ultimate victory.

            Lucas wouldn’t look at me in photography—no angry glances, no loaded stares. His features were sad. He knew Vincent told me what to do. Lucas was feeling the betrayal Vincent committed.

            It made me wonder if that was something I should be okay with, a brother betraying his own brother.

            I shook my head, banishing the thoughts. Vincent did not betray Lucas, Lucas brought everything on himself. I wasn’t going to feel bad for him now. I finally put Lucas in his place with Vincent’s help. Vincent stood up to Lucas with my help.

            Now, I dressed in my donated leather. Too big for me, of course, but I fixed that with a belt. I looked at myself in the mirror before going to see if Vincent was home.

            He wasn’t. I stood in his room for a moment, looking at the wall we painted on. There was so much more there than when I painted with him those many months ago.

            The biggest part of this… mural was a night sky with a large, full, blindingly white moon. Around the moon, in various positions and distances, were nine stars—all in varying brightness as well; none so bright as the moon. A separate painting was a rainy night, trees placed here and there. Six white figures stood out from the background, in the distance, chasing after an orange oval.

            Most of the paintings on the wall were obscure in the same fashion, never fully identifying any of the subjects. They were beautiful and masterfully done. I was in complete awe of them.

            My fingers reached out to touch, what I believed, was an unfinished piece. It was of a woman with long hair that covered her face; her arms lovingly wrapped around a group of music notes. There was no color to the painting-one reason I did not think it was finished—it was still just black and white.

            I just stared at all of the paintings on the wall, spending the least amount of time on my own painting off in the corner. I spent a good ten minutes in Vincent’s room viewing his work.

            When he still didn’t show up—probably being held up by Lucas—I went to the kitchen. Lilly sat at the bar with some terrible looking pregnancy creation. She took a double take at the blue and black leather.

            “Hello Jasmine,” Lilly greeted, adding a spoonful of her concoction into her mouth. “You look very… interesting today.”

            I smiled, trying to hold in my laugh. “Vincent is going to teach me to drive the motorcycle today,” I explained.

            She nodded, taking another bite. “You and Vinnie sure have been spending a lot of time together as of late,” she commented.

            I blushed.

            Was she on to us?

            “We have quite a bit in common,” I admitted, shrugging like it was no big deal.

            “That’s good to have in a significant other,” Lilly said, a knowing smile crept across her lips. “When I met James my junior year of high school—he was a senior—I was the most stubborn, independent, did-not-take-crap-from-anyone kind of girl. I had been that way all my life. My parents were not around very often and I had no siblings. I didn’t need anyone… until I needed James. He was just always there for me, even when I thought I didn’t need him. It was a terrifying thought—relying on this one person so much for my happiness. I didn’t like it at first. I resisted it. I had no idea what to do. I could not allow myself to give in so easily—to give up my independence. I always thought I was going to grow old on my own—and I was fine with that, I was comfortable with that. But James made me feel safe, made me open up, and made me feel like me. Things were easy with us, natural. Like breathing.”