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brother to all of us. For God’s sake, he’s a year younger
than me. Plus he’s not like that.”
    “ Not like
what?”
    “ He’s…shy, I think. Quiet.
He doesn’t talk much, not even to me.”
    “ He doesn’t seem quiet to
me, and he looks like he’d be a playboy, impregnating all the local
girls with Viking babies.”
    “ You have a wild
imagination, sis. I think he’s just the opposite. In fact, I’m not
one to tell stories, but I think he might be celibate.”
    That got both my eyes open.
    “ We’ve all tried to hook
him up, but he won’t even go to the bar with us.”
    “ Maybe he doesn’t
drink.”
    “ No, he drinks. We’ve
tossed back beer and whiskey from time to time. He just doesn’t
socialize much. And he’s definitely not interested in Momma, so get
that thought out of your head.”
    I shrugged. “Well, how am
I supposed to know? He called her Bethany. And he’s hanging around
here, and he cooks, and he kissed my forehead, and his beard
tickles, and…and he looks like a Viking.”
    Jethro frowned at me.
“You’re drunk. You need to eat more of that sandwich.”
    Instead, I sipped the
bourbon and forced my eyes to focus on Jethro, who was looking
blurrier by the minute. “What could Drew and Momma possibly have in
common?”
    “ They talk about poetry,
books, meaning of life stuff. He’s always bringing her books. I
think they like the same kind of stuff. He’s got that PhD, and
Momma, you know she always wanted to go to college.”
    I nodded because I did
know. I did know that she always wanted to go to
college.
    But I was tempted to shake
my head because I couldn’t reconcile the image of Drew and Momma
reading poetry together. This was partly because I used to read poetry
with her. This was also partly because my first impression of Drew
told me that he only read magazines related to guns, cars, naked
ladies, and facial hair.
    I finished half of the sandwich and washed
it down with the rest of the tea.
    “ I need to sleep,” I said,
swaying a little.
    “ What about brushing your
teeth?” This was an unexpected question coming from Jethro, not
because he lacked appropriate dental care. In fact, he had lovely
teeth. It was unexpected because it verged on nurturing.
    My eyes were closed, and
this time neither of them would be opening for several hours.
“No…can’t…must…sleep.”
    I fell backward against
the pillow, already half passed out. I wasn’t fully conscious when
Jethro lifted my legs onto the bed, pulled back the covers, and
tucked me in. But I did surface long enough to feel his kiss on my
cheek, his hand squeezing my shoulder, and to hear him whisper
something about sweet dreams before he flicked off the light and
closed the door.

CHAPTER 4
    “ Woman’s love involves
injustice and blindness against everything that she does not
love.... Woman is not yet capable of friendship: women are still
cats and birds, or at best cows.”
    — Friedrich
Nietzsche
    Duane didn’t lock the second floor bathroom door.
    Therefore, upon waking,
stumbling out of bed, tucking my toiletry bag under my arm, and
shuffling to the bathroom, I had another lesson in the importance
of knocking. The interaction also negated any need I might have had
for caffeine to bring me fully awake.
    He screamed.
    I gasped then growled and
grumbled as I marched out of the bathroom. “Is this all you boys
do? Hide in the upstairs bathroom? Get a hobby for hootenanny’s
sake!”
    I didn’t bother to shut
the door behind me. Instead, I raced down the steps to the first
floor and used the bathroom under the stairs. When I was finished
with my morning routine, I tucked my toiletries behind the sink and
stared at my reflection in the mirror.
    Really, I was fighting the
urge to run back upstairs and read. I did this by giving myself a
stern stink-eye.
    Reading, for me, was like
breathing. It was probably akin to masturbation for my brain.
Getting off on the fantasy within the pages of a good novel