What Happened with My Sister When We Got Back from the Party

My name is Tomás, I’m twenty-four years old, and ever since I finished college I’ve been living again in my parents’ house, saving up to move out. I’m thin, dark-skinned, with the body of someone who works out just enough not to feel bad in front of the mirror. And I have a problem that’s the source of almost all my misery: my sister Renata.

She’s twenty-one, studies design at university, and is the opposite of me in every way. Light skin, black curly hair, a small figure that fills any room the moment she walks in. My parents work from early morning until late, so for years the responsibility of keeping her under control fell on me, as if I were the adult on duty and not a guy who also had a life of his own.

—Tomás, take me downtown. Tomás, lend me some money. Tomás, can you stay up waiting for me?

That was the soundtrack of my house. Renata went out at any hour, brought friends over without warning, asked me for favors as if they were obligations. And the worst part was that she knew exactly what she was doing. She took advantage of the fact that my parents were never around and that I, out of habit or guilt, always ended up giving in.

I hated her. That’s not an easy word to write about a sister, but it’s the truth. I hated her for being immature, for being selfish, for the way she used me knowing I wouldn’t complain in front of our parents. For months I fantasized about getting back at her somehow, about making it so that for once she was the one who depended on me. I didn’t know how. Until one night the opportunity came up.

It was a Saturday. My father crossed paths with me in the hallway with that tired face that doesn’t allow for argument.

—Your sister’s at a party. I need you to pick her up at six in the morning, at her friend’s house.

—And why me?

—Because your mother and I start work early tomorrow and we need to sleep. Do it and that’s that.

I went to bed grumbling. I couldn’t believe I had to get up in the middle of a weekend night, and not even for myself, but for her. I set the alarm, but I was so angry that it took me forever to fall asleep. When I finally did, I overslept and heard the alarm late.

I jumped out of bed. Luckily my parents didn’t wake up. On my phone I had five messages from Renata, each more impatient than the last. I texted back that I was on my way, but the complaints kept coming. I ordered a car to get there faster, and when I got out in front of her friend’s house, she greeted me by yelling.

—Where were you? Why are you so late? You’re unbearable.

—You’re the unbearable one —I shot back—. Now let’s go.

***

We started walking toward the bus stop. At that hour the city was dead, with that gray stillness everything has just before sunrise. Renata came to a sudden stop.

—What are we doing here? I want to go back by taxi.

—I can’t, I already spent money getting here. Remember I was running late.

She looked at me, her cheeks flushed with anger, her lips pressed tight.

—It’s always the same with you. I’m sick of you.

—Fine, okay.

I changed direction and walked toward a cab company. She followed me, confused.

—And where are you going now?

—Didn’t you want to go by cab?

—Wasn’t there no more money?

—I lied.

The truth was that I was so exhausted that, for once in my life, I didn’t want to do what she asked. And yet there I was, doing it anyway. During those two blocks she kept yelling at me, even though we were going exactly where she wanted. We went into the office and they told us the car would take half an hour. We sat down to wait.

Renata sat across from me, her eyes fixed on me and her mouth tense, as if I were responsible for everything. And there, in that empty, dimly lit room, I started really looking at her for the first time in years.

She was wearing a tight top, one of those girls wear for going out, clinging to her chest and leaving her stomach bare. From the way the fabric moved when she breathed, it was obvious she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Below, a short skirt that had ridden up when she sat down. I crossed and uncrossed my legs in my chair, uncomfortable, because something was waking up in me that had nothing to do with tiredness or anger.

She’s my sister. What am I thinking.

But I kept looking at her. Her black curly hair fell over her shoulders, still with the shine of the party on it. And then an idea I’d had circling in my head for months without taking shape crossed my mind. Revenge. The reward for all those years of being her driver, her babysitter, her ATM. For once, she was going to give me something in return.

—Let’s go —I said, standing up.

—And now what?

—We’ll take the bus. It’ll be faster.

—What? Are you serious?

She kept protesting, but I wasn’t listening anymore. The only thing that mattered was that she was walking beside me, following me despite every complaint. On the way to the stop we had passed, without her noticing, in front of a narrow passage between two buildings. This time, when we reached it, I grabbed her arm.

***

I pulled her into the passage and pressed her against the wall. Renata opened her eyes, more surprised than frightened.

—What are you doing?

—I’m tired —I told her, my body almost against hers, my voice low—. I’m tired of you. And I think I… deserve a reward.

She didn’t say anything. She just looked at me, holding her breath. And in that pause, in that silence that lasted barely a second but felt eternal, I understood she wasn’t pulling away. That something in her was waiting too, maybe as long as I had been.

I slid my hand under her top and touched one breast. Her skin was warm and her nipples hardened instantly beneath my fingers. I squeezed them, played with them slowly, and a sound escaped her throat that she immediately tried to swallow. She held my gaze, stubborn to the end, as if giving in meant losing. That made me want to make her yield even more.

I lowered my mouth to her chest. I ran my tongue over one nipple, took it between my lips, sucked on it while she bit her lip to keep from moaning. My sister, the one who had made my life impossible for years, was trembling against a wall with my mouth on her and refusing to admit how much she liked it.

So I went to my final move. I slid my hand up her thigh, under the skirt, until I found the thin fabric of her underwear. I moved it aside and touched her directly, gliding my fingers through a wetness that gave her away far more than any moan.

—Say it —I asked, almost in her ear—. I want to hear you.

Renata closed her eyes and finally let go.

—Keep going… —she murmured, her voice breaking—. Don’t stop, please.

I moved my fingers slowly between her folds and then penetrated her with them, feeling the way she clung to me. They went in and out more easily each time, lubricated by her own wetness. She opened her legs wider, offering herself, while with my other hand I kept playing with her breast. Out of the corner of my eye I kept watch on the street: no one passed by, it was the absolute stillness of dawn, broken only by her breathing in that corner.

I looked at her. Her mouth was slightly open, her lips shiny, her pale skin almost glowing in the half-light. She seemed so desirable that I couldn’t hold back. I brought my face to hers. She opened her eyes, looked at me, and made no move to stop me. I kissed her. I kissed my sister, the one who annoyed me so much, and I did it with an intensity that surprised even me, forcing my tongue into her mouth while she kissed me back with the same desperation.

When we pulled apart to catch our breath, I opened my pants. Renata looked down and licked her lips, and that was the only thing I needed. I took her by the waist, kept her underwear pushed aside, and pushed in slowly.

—Ah… —she let out.

I felt a resistance I hadn’t expected. I stopped, confused. For everything she implied, for the way she teased, I had always assumed my sister had plenty of experience. But I was wrong. She was a virgin. She had kept it, for whatever reason, until that absurd dawn in an alleyway.

—Do you want me to stop? —I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

—No —she said at once, wrapping her arms around my neck—. Keep going.

I pushed in carefully, making progress little by little, and she moaned against my shoulder, a mix of pain and pleasure that made her dig her nails into my back. I waited for her body to get used to it. When she started moving against me, seeking me out, I understood the pain had passed.

—I love it —she whispered—. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.

I didn’t answer. I was still angry with her, and at the same time nothing in the world seemed more urgent than this. I held her against the wall, lifted one of her legs, and started moving with a steadier rhythm. Her small body bounced with every thrust, her breathing kept breaking, and I alternated kisses on her neck and her mouth to quiet the moans that were becoming too loud for a public place.

After a while I turned her to face the wall. Renata looked at me over her shoulder, breathless, and arched her back, offering herself again. I took her hips and penetrated her again, deeper in that position. I gripped her black hair with one hand, tugging just a little, and with the other I held her firmly while I fucked her. She wasn’t holding back anymore: every movement tore a muffled moan from her, mixed with the first birdsong.

—Like that —she told me—. Like that, don’t stop.

I held out as long as I could, but the combination of her body, her voice, and how forbidden it all was eventually did me in. I buried myself in her one last time and let go, holding her against the wall while both of us trembled. We stayed still for a few seconds, catching our breath, not really knowing what to say.

***

We straightened our clothes in silence. I dried her legs as best I could with a handkerchief I had in my pocket, and she laughed softly, still blushing. In the end, just as I’d wanted from the start, we went home by bus, sitting next to each other, our shoulders touching, not fighting for the first time in years.

When we arrived, our parents had already left for work, as always. We looked at each other in the hallway and didn’t need to say anything. That dawn didn’t end in the alley. It ended hours later, in my room, with the door closed and the certainty that something between us had changed forever.

That night, when my parents got back, they asked the usual question.

—Was there any problem with the pickup?

—None —I answered.

Renata and I looked at each other and a smile slipped out of us that we had to hide.

—So now you two get along better? —my mother asked, surprised by the truce.

—We get along very well —Renata said, biting her lip—. Much better.