My Sister's Boyfriend

“Train of Thought” by Robb Kunz

My sister’s boyfriend lives down the street. His family moved in halfway through her sophomore year. She would time it perfectly so that they take out the trash at the same time. I would watch from my bedroom window as she parks the trash bin on the corner and turns to look at him.

My sister’s boyfriend is a basketball player. He mimes layups under the American flag during fifth period. He catches the invisible ball, turns to face the wastebasket, shoots. The teacher yells at him to sit down, he listens, but reluctantly.

My sister’s boyfriend has six siblings. I hear him talking about how lonely it is to have so many. I press one ear to the wall and put a finger in the other so I can hear better. He says he feels lucky that she notices him, so lucky that she lives just down the street.

My sister’s boyfriend has a pair of gym shorts that end above the knee. When he runs, they inch up and down his legs, revealing and shielding. I sit on the edge of the blacktop, look over the pages of Seventeen and notice how the coarse dark hairs of his knee begin to blonde as they move up his thigh.

My sister’s boyfriend breaks into her room by climbing the grill and hoisting himself up onto the roof of our back porch. I hear the window frame slide in its tracks as his fingers reach inside, finding hers.

My sister’s boyfriend eats a peach every day at lunch, wiping the juice from his chin with the back of his wrist, closing the pit in a paper towel when he’s done.

My sister’s boyfriend lets his fingertips brush her shoulder blade, the end of her ponytail, the loops in her jeans. They walk down the hall in a soft sway, rounding the corner without breaking eye contact.

My sister’s boyfriend drives a half hour to get her when she calls him from the side of the road. He changes her tire and uses the tire iron to push the limp body of the squirrel she hit to the grassy shoulder.

My sister’s boyfriend hops the fences of local pools after hours. He shows me the red paths that are sliced into his arms after the cops show up and he scrambles back over sharp metal.

My sister’s boyfriend argues with her in his Altima. I can hear her yell from the house. He keeps the windows up and they fog. Then the car shakes. I can’t tell if it’s a dangerous shake or a pleasurable one.

My sister’s boyfriend comes on our family vacation to Cape May. When I return from the water in my strapless top, a sunburn blushing across my shoulders, he leans his head down to look over the edge of his sunglasses. How is it out there? He asks me. My sister, perched in his lap, her arms creating a ring around his neck, turns to him and says, what?

My sister’s boyfriend asks me if I’m a virgin but doesn’t let me answer, just laughs and says, of course you are.

 My sister’s boyfriend makes the championships with the basketball team. He tells me he plays power forward. He says this when she’s not around.

My sister’s boyfriend comes to the door and asks her to prom in front of all of us. My father takes a picture of them on the front porch while my mother searches through the kitchen cabinets for a vase.

My sister’s boyfriend calls her a slut bag to his teammates before the big game. I hear them as they walk up the staircase that leads to the locker room. At first I think this is a compliment, but the way his friends laugh makes me change my mind.

My sister’s boyfriend runs back and forth on the court. His mouth hangs open as he passes the ball and sweat streaks his temples. I follow the orange blur with my eyes as she sits beside me. That was a foul! She yells and I have no idea how she knows that.

My sister’s boyfriend comes to the house in a tux on prom night. They pose for pictures and when my mother is fixing my sister’s hair in the next room, he holds out a flask. Want a sip? He asks.

My sister’s boyfriend drops her off early and she scurries toward the house with a wilted corsage and mascara streaking her cheeks. She locks herself in her room. I press my forehead against the wood of her door and ask her what happened. She doesn’t reply.

My sister’s boyfriend stands on the corner where the lockers meet and watches her from afar. She is avoiding him, moving from class to class in a cushion of her friends. Avoiding eye contact with everyone but them, her barrier to the world. There are many rumors circulating, each more creative than the last. None of that is true, she hisses through her locked bedroom door.

My sister’s boyfriend says hi to me as I walk across the school parking lot to the bus. He nods his chin and waves his hand just once, the back pockets of his jeans leaning against the door of his Nissan. He has grown his hair out since they won the big game and it falls over his ears.

My sister’s boyfriend appears at the same party as me. Even though everyone there is two years below him, he comes with some teammates, holding a six pack and laughing louder than anyone. He opens a beer for me and leans on the countertop, asking me how I’ve been. He hadn’t been over in weeks. I tell him I’m good and school’s good. He rolls his eyes and takes a sip from his beer. No, really, he says, how are you really doing?

My sister’s boyfriend and I make out in the upstairs bathroom at the party. He picks me up and places me on the sink. I’m still not tall enough to reach his mouth. He stretches his neck and sucks on my bottom lip. As he finds the strap of my bra, I think I hear him say my name. Or maybe it’s my sister’s name.

My sister’s boyfriend comes to the door with another dozen roses. He says he’s sorry about prom night, that he’ll never do it again, that he loves her. I sit at the top of the stairs and listen, my mother opening and closing cabinets downstairs, searching for another vase.

My sister’s boyfriend leaves the flowers on the doorstep after she slams the door in his face. She stomps up the stairs and brushes by me, kicking me in the side. What are you doing you nosey bitch? She says. My mother rushes after her, the vase in her hands.

My sister’s boyfriend watches me walk by his second period class. I steal her jeans and swing my hips like she does. I know she will be mad that I went through her closet, but it’s worth it to feel his eyes on me.

My sister’s boyfriend picks me up at the mall and we drive to the lake. He rolls the windows down and we watch a pack of geese move toward the edge of the water. He tells me I look pretty. He pulls me into him, his hand behind my neck, and pushes his tongue against mine. He tastes like sour peaches, basketball rubber, mint chewing gum. I touch the hair on his upper thigh. I feel its blondeness without looking. He is pulling my t-shirt off when I tell him to call me a slut bag. He stops, my shirt blocking the view of his face. What? He says. I shimmy my shirt back down. I want you to call me a slut bag, I say. He pauses and looks out at the geese, bobbing their long necks, snapping their beaks. I’m going to take you home, he says.

My sister’s boyfriend walks large circles around me at school, keeps his eyes on his worksheets as I walk by his classes. After lunch I stare at the peach pit crumpled at the bottom of the trashcan. It is falling from the paper towel, wet and bare. The bell rings and someone tells me to get out of the way, tossing their half-eaten pizza.

My sister’s boyfriend walks out to the edge of the driveway to take the trash out and I hear plastic wheels on our driveway too. I watch from my bedroom window as my sister drags out our bin. She stops and looks over toward him. He stops too. They stand like this, a few cement driveways and mailboxes between them, looking at each other, his six siblings playing inside, her one sibling watching from the window. He lifts his hand and waves to her, just once. I raise my hand to wave back.

About the Author

Kale Choo Hanson is a writer from Philadelphia. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Main Street Journal, Grande Dame Literary, and Lunar Lit Magazine. She holds an MFA from Temple University and is working on her first novel.

About the Artist

Robb Kunz hails from Teton Valley, Idaho. He received his MFA in creative writing from the University of Idaho. He currently teaches writing at Utah State University. His art has been published in Equinox and is forthcoming in Fauxmoir. His art was given Special Recognition in the 13th Annual “Landscapes” Art Exhibition from Light, Space, Time.