Shower Stories

Dearest Quentin

Rosebud Sampson
2.22.11
Dearest Quentin

I watched my older sister throw her long, messy brown hair into an even messier pony tail before she stuck her Rockies baseball hat onto her head in the same backwards manner she always did. She wore an old hand-me-down, baggy black Wild Oats shirt that I'm sure she received from one of our brothers. Her shorts were her favorite pair of shiny red basketball shorts. She wore no shoes on her calloused feet.

My sister glared in my direction as she hopped off her bed. I smiled shyly at her, she only scowled in return. The deep frown on her face caused the smile to slip off my own. She stomped across our bedroom toward where I was perched on the barber's chair that Uriah and Gyles had found in an alleyway and dragged home. She reached out her dainty hand and tugged on the shirt I was wearing. It was a white and green Whole Foods shirt that I had snagged from her dresser when she was still asleep earlier that morning.

"That's my shirt," she mumbled, more to herself than to me, it seemed. "But you can wear it if you want. Just wash it 'kay?" I nodded my head enthusiastically as she turned away from me.

"Where ya goin'?" I asked hopping down from the barber's chair to follow my sister. She didn't turn around, instead she kept walking.

"To hang out on the roof," she answered as we reached the stairs leading out of the basement. She stopped abruptly and turned to face me, a secret smile threatening the corner of her lips. She glanced quickly to her right where four of our brothers were watching TV, as she began to climb up the steep, narrow stairs. "You wanna come with me?"

"Heck yeah." My wide grin spread across my entire face uncontrollably. I followed my sister out into the backyard where the enormous tree stood, just waiting for us to climb it. So we did. We climbed the thick wooden branches as fast as we could, not caring about the cuts and bruises we'd have to cover with Arnica later.

We scrambled onto the roof, breaking off sticks and having a mini - sword fight while thirty feet off the ground. When our neighbors yelled at us and called us "stupid fucking kids," we just laughed until our stomachs hurt.

When our laughter died down, Xylia and I laid side by side, watching the sun set. We could hear our brothers shouting our names, but neither of us felt like returning from our blissful haven on the top of the roof.

"Hey, Xylia?" I asked, gazing at the sky.

"Hm?"

"We'll be best friends forever, won't we?" I crossed my fingers that she would say yes. I was forever surrounded by boys, we both were, and I liked them and all, but Xylia was my best friend. I watched as the very first star showed up in the night sky. I closed my sapphire eyes and wished as hard as my little eleven-year-old mind would allow me to.

Xylia giggled at my question. "Of course we will, crazy Quen," she replied, using my nickname. My real name is Quentin, Quentin Lane Oakley. I am the fifth Oakley child, hence the name.

"Do you promise?" I had to make sure. Xylia reached over and gripped my hand in hers. She stared at me with the gorgeous emerald eyes that I wished I had been born with.

"I promise." She squeezed my hand lightly. I wanted to be just like my sister. I dressed like her, I tried to act like her. She was my role model. She made living with six crazy brothers bearable.

My sister was my best friend. She would never lie to me.

But she did.

***

"Goddammit, Quentin! Get out of the fucking way!" my older brother, Uriah, shouts at me. I roll my eyes and glare at him.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" I snap back as I flop down onto the old leather couch. I honestly have no fucking idea why I even bother to come down from my room anymore.