SINFULLY YOURS

TRENT

Growing up here was like living inside a childhood dream. To most people, it was just another suburban townhouse development, way out on the edge of nowhere. But to an eight-year-old kid? It was magic.

Before that, it had always been just me and my mom, moving from one crappy apartment to the next. The kind with peeling paint, leaky faucets, and neighbors who got into screaming matches at two in the morning. Places where cockroaches were just part of the décor.

But that year-when I turned eight-everything changed. We left the city behind because she got a job working for some fancy lawyer guy.

(Yeah, he ended up being my stepdad. One of those sappy, Hallmark-movie-type stories where a down-on-her-luck single mom meets a guy who actually gives a damn, sweeps her off to a quiet little townhouse community, and pays her well enough that, for the first time, she can make her own choices.)

His name is Joe. My dad, now. And honestly? He looks like a Joe. Sounds like a Joe. Acts like a Joe. And thank God for that. Because before Joe, my mom had a thing for guys named Chad. Or Todd. Or-no joke-Snakes. She actually dated a guy who went by Snakes.

So yeah, Joe Turner was a serious upgrade.

But I'm getting off track.

I was talking about the day I met them-the twins who lived across the green space.

See, this place wasn't just some neat little neighborhood. It had this huge, open field right in the center, with row after row of identical townhouses facing each other. To the left, there were woods. To the right, this incredible rock formation surrounded by just enough water to make it feel like an adventure. In the summer, there were tadpoles and frogs. One year, even a turtle.

Maybe to some kids, that wasn't anything special. But to a kid like me-who had only ever known cracked pavement and overflowing dumpsters-this was heaven.

And then there were them. Julia and Eric.

Same age as me. They'd lived here forever, and to them, I was some clueless city kid who had never built a proper fort, never caught tadpoles, never spent an afternoon just being in the woods. And they made it their personal mission to teach me.

From the moment the moving truck pulled up, we were inseparable.

That's where it all started.

And now... this is where it ends.

I blink, suddenly realizing I've just said all of that out loud.

I'm standing at the podium. In a church. At Eric's funeral.

Everyone is crying. Everyone but me.

I can't even look at Julia, because if I do, I'll lose it. And I can't-won't-lose it. Not yet. Not until I finish this. Because this is the last thing I can do for Eric. My last chance to tell him, in front of everyone, how much I love him. How much I'll miss him. How the world is just wrong without him in it.

I was going to say, "And now this is where it ends." The words are right there, written on the paper in front of me.

But I don't say them.

Because that would mean it's over. And it's not. Not for Julia.

Losing a best friend is one thing. Losing your twin?

I can't even begin to imagine.

So I change course. I talk about growing up. About how Eric went off to business school, I went to mechanic school, and Julia moved away to become a chef. How Eric and I started Hill Top Custom Jeeps and spent the last decade knee-deep in grease and horsepower, living the dream.

Maybe it's just for me. Maybe no one else cares about all these little details. But I need to say them. I need to remind myself that life was good once. That it was real.

Or maybe I'm just stalling.

Because once I stop talking, we have to go outside. Get into the limos. Drive to the cemetery. And throw dirt onto his coffin.

And I'm not ready for that.

But eventually, I run out of words. I mumble out a goodbye and walk back to my seat.

My mom grips my arm. Joe leans in and whispers, "Very nicely done, Trent. He would've loved that eulogy."

And I think, God, I hope so.

After that, everything blurs together. A priest speaking. Me and the guys from the shop carrying Eric's casket. Then standing at his grave, staring down at a wooden box covered in Jeep decals and racing stickers, because of course, that's how Eric would have wanted it.

And then, at some point, everyone leaves.

Everyone except me and Julia.

We sit in those crappy little folding chairs, staring at the fresh dirt. The backhoe is waiting, parked a few feet away. Soon, they'll finish the job. Cover him up for good.

Julia doesn't sob. She doesn't break down or wail into the silence.

She just sits there, hands folded in her lap, staring straight ahead.

But I know what she's thinking.

Because I'm thinking the same thing.

How the hell do we do this? How do we keep going without him?

She sighs-heavy, exhausted.

"Where are you staying?" I ask. "At home?"

She barely shakes her head. "Not staying."

"Not even for a night?"

She shakes her head again. "I need to get back."

"Why?"

She hesitates. Then, barely a whisper-"I don't know."

"You'll have to come back next week for the will," I remind her.

"I don't think I'm going to that."

And finally-for the first time today-she looks at me.

Julia has always been pretty. Soft, round face. Dark wavy hair that falls in a curtain over her shoulders. Plump lips, though her lipstick is long gone. Her black dress is simple, nothing fancy, but she's wearing this little black hat with a veil over her face.

And through that delicate web of lace, I see it.

The loss.

And my heart just-sinks.

Or maybe it's my stomach. I don't know. I just know I need to do something.

So I wrap an arm around her.

She leans into me like it's the first bit of relief she's had all day.

"Remember when you and Eric switched places for a day?" I ask.

She huffs out a tiny laugh. "Oh, God. Why did we do that?"

"I think it was because he wanted to wear your clothes."

She actually laughs. A real laugh. "No, he wanted to trade chores. He was supposed to wash the car, and I was supposed to sweep the patio." She looks up at me, smiling. "Guess who was out playing in the woods with you first?"

I smirk. "God, Julia. I've missed you. Why'd you move two hours away?"

She shrugs. "I dunno." A pause. Then, softer-"I do know."

She takes a breath. And then, in a voice so small it nearly disappears-"I wanted to see what life was like without him."

And just like that, the ache in my chest becomes unbearable.

So I lean into her, and she leans into me. Holding each other up.

And for a little while, we just sit there.

Giving in to the sadness.

Julia

I knew this day was going to be tough. The last four days have been hell. But I was hoping that by the end of the day, I'd feel something. Not relief, of course. That's not the right emotion. But... I don't know. Like I could take a breath again. Because there's been a tightness in my chest since I got the news. Like I can't inhale all the way and then, when I finally manage it, I can't exhale either. I don't know if that makes sense. I just know it hurts to breathe and my only goal right now is to learn to breathe again.

But it's not happening. I still can't seem to suck in enough air. I can't seem to stop clenching my teeth and balling my hands up into fists.

Trent helps a little. I know this is just as hard for him as it is for me, and I can tell that last remark, which he only made to cheer me up, has cheered him down.

So I say, "I just don't know what life looks like now, ya know?"

He nods. "Yeah, believe me, I know. Monday morning we'll open the garage back up and I'll get my cup of coffee open the bay doors, and wait for him to walk in." Trent sighs. "And he never will, ya know? He's never gonna do that again."

"I know," I say. "I wish I hadn't moved away. I wish I'd been here this whole time. At least then I could miss him the way you do. But I'm going to go back to my apartment and wake up tomorrow and nothing will be different."

"That's not true," he says, reaching across my leg to grab my hand.

I like the way his forearm feels lying across my thigh. It's the first time he's held my hand in years. Maybe since we were little kids. And it feels good. It feels right.

"You're going to feel different every day. I know, because even though Eric was just my best friend and not my twin, I have a space here now, you know?"

His other hand makes a fist and thumps against his chest. Right over his heart.

"It's pretty empty in there," I say. "Hollow or something."

"Yeah," Trent agrees. "Hollow. That's exactly how I feel."

I sigh, wanting to get up and leave this fucking cemetery but unable to find the strength to do that. My parents took the limo back home and I told them I'd walk. Our townhouse isn't that far from here. About three miles, maybe. Not a great idea when I'm wearing heels, but I don't care. I'll take them off and walk barefoot like we used to do when we were kids. I just couldn't get in that car with them knowing we'd end up back at home. I don't think I can do that just yet. I'd rather walk a hundred miles right now than go home knowing Eric will never be there with us again.

"So..." Trent says. "What do you do in the city? I feel like we haven't talked in a long time."

"Hmmm," I say. Because it has been a while since I saw him. Our last birthday, probably. That just kills any chance of feeling better. Because my whole life I've shared a birthday with my brother and now I don't.

"You have a job, of course," he says. Prodding me to talk.

"Yes," I say. "I'm the head chef now at Bistecca del Bosco."

"Nice," he says.

I shrug. "I guess."

"You don't like it?"

"Not really."

"Then do something else," he says like this is so simple.

I laugh. Not a happy laugh but a 'yeah, right' laugh. "Cooking just isn't as fun as I thought it'd be. I mean, I always wanted to be a baker, for one thing. But there's no money in baking. And the only other thing I really know how to do is work on those stupid Jeeps."

"Stupid Jeeps," Trent echoes. Sadly, I might add. Because that's how Eric died. Rock-crawling out in Utah. The Jeep flipped over backward and crushed him. We had to have one of those half-open caskets because he was not in good shape from the chest down from what they told me.

"I should've gone to business school with him," I say.

Trent just squeezes my hand.

"I don't know how you can even look at them," I say.

"Who?"

"The fucking Jeeps," I say, turning my head so I can meet his gaze.

He presses his lips together and frowns. "He was doing what he loved, Julia."

"Yeah, and now he's dead."

"The Jeep didn't do this," he says. "He made a mistake. People do that, ya know. Because they're people."

"Are you going to sell the place?" I ask.

"Do you think I should sell the place?"

"Why do you care what I think?"

"Because he probably left you his share in the will."

"Oh," I say. "I hadn't thought of that."

Trent sighs. "Let's talk about something else."

"Like how we're going to get home?" I huff another fake laugh. "Because everyone is gone and I know that the backhoe operator is probably well-schooled in graveside etiquette, but I'm pretty sure he's giving us the stink-eye right now."

Trent looks around the cemetery. It's on a hillside on the edge of town. And there's a nice view of the mountains from where we're sitting. The sun is just beginning to set and this day is almost over.

"We can just walk," he says. "Your house isn't that far away. People are probably wondering where we're at."

"I can't do that," I say. "I just can't. I'm not going back there for some... some stupid... whatever it is. It feels like a party. Why do people want to eat and drink after a funeral? It makes no sense to me."

"Just... to remember him. And have a chance to share memories?"

I shake my head a little and huff out some air.

"I'll call a car," he says, letting go of my hand to reach for his phone.

But I grab his hand back and say, "No. I can walk just fine. I just can't go back to the house and listen politely as people try to console me. Or worse, expect me to console them. I don't care if it's rude. I just lost my twin and I'm not in the mood to hear how sorry everyone is for my loss."

"Oh," Trent says, understanding me. The idea of ditching the reception never entered his mind. "Well, I'll walk you to your car and then make excuses for you."

"You will?" I ask, looking at him again. Like... really looking at him. His blue-green eyes are blurry today. Like the tropical ocean they usually resemble has been muddied with silt. His hair is dark and cropped short everywhere but on top near the front. So that every time he bows his head it tumbles down over his face in loose curls.

His nose is straight, even though I know it was broken once when he was sixteen and Eric accidentally hit him with a wrench when they were working on their first Jeep together. I went to the hospital with them, holding a cloth over Trent's face as Eric said, "Sorry, dude. Sorry, dude," over and over again. But he had surgery to fix it a few days later so it's straight now.

He grins at me, noticing I'm looking at him. His smile is wide and he always shows teeth. Even when he's angry, he'll smile and show teeth. Like a dog getting ready to attack.

His jaw is square and clean-shaven. Usually, he's got days' worth of stubble on that chin. And once, when he was seventeen, he grew a goatee.

That makes me laugh.

"What?" he asks, looking into my eyes.

And then we talk about his goatee. And of course, he has to bring up that time I tried to wax my bikini area the day before we went out to the lake for a long weekend and I couldn't even wear my bathing suit because I had these god-awful red marks all over my upper thighs.

Pretty soon we're laughing about the time Trent shaved Eric's head when he passed out drunk on New Year's Eve and how Eric got back at him the next year by taking pictures of Trent with a dildo in his mouth.

Before we know it the sun has set. The backhoe guy is lugging out lights and setting them up around us and every chair but the two we're sitting in has been collected and stacked onto the back of a little tractor.

Then we're sad again because we realize we've been here for hours, laughing, smiling, and having a pretty good time. Forgetting that Eric's dead body is lying just a few feet away.

"Hey," Trent says. "You ready to get out of here?"

I sigh, hesitating. Because I'm not. Not really. Walking away from Eric's grave means they're going to fill it up. And then he'll really be gone.

"Come on," Trent says, standing up and taking my hand. He pulls me to my feet and I slip my shoes off, readying myself for the long walk home.

He takes them from me, holding them in one hand while holding me in the other, and leads me across the cemetery and down the hill to the town.

Trent

We walk through the gates of the cemetery holding hands. It feels wrong in many ways. For one, I had a crush on Julia when I was a kid. I got a little sappy, trying to carry her books home from school and shit like that. So Eric took me aside in the woods one day and said, "You're my best friend, but if you ever try to hold my sister's books again, I'll punch you in the eye."

End of Trent's crush on Julia. Like, needle-scratching-across-an-old-record kind of full stop.

Except it wasn't the end. It was just the beginning.

I admit, I jerked off to the image of Julia's face more times than I can count back when I was a teenager. And yeah, there was that time I saw her naked. She was getting out of the shower and a bunch of us guys were hanging out in Eric's living room and I just so happened to be coming up the steps to grab my Paulet out of Eric's room and there she was with her door cracked open a little, looking through a pile of clothes on her bed.

She didn't know I was there right away. Took her time finding a shirt and a pair of shorts as I peeked at her like a pervert. Then when she looked up and saw me, she smiled. For a second I was like... OK. She's naked and smiling at me. She probably wants me. I even got a little hard. I was seventeen. You can't stop that shit when you're seventeen.

But then she walked over to the door. Not even embarrassed or anything. Just walked over to me with her perfect tits and nicely groomed pussy. She opened the door a little wider and yelled, "Eric! Trent's upstairs peeking in my room!"

There was a bunch of, "What?" "What?" "What'd she say?" from all the guys downstairs.

Which, gotta be honest, made me panic a little. But then she kneed me in the nuts and by the time they all came upstairs to see what was happening Julia was safely behind her locked door and I was writhing on the ground like an idiot.

Eric did one of those, "You're an asshole," laughs guys do when they know you deserve another punch in the eye but just got something better. Then he walked away.

But he did make a point later of telling me if I ever peeked at his sister again, he'd sneak into my bedroom at night and cut off my dick.

So holding her hand after his funeral is definitely up there with peeking at her naked when she was seventeen.

I can practically hear him now. "Trent, you asshole. I've warned you twice already. I'm not gonna waste time with words, OK? I'm just gonna knock your fucking teeth out."

But I don't let go of her hand.

He's not here, right? Joke's on you, dickface. I guess that's what you get for leaving me alone with her.

Julia groans as we walk down the big hill into town. Calling it a town is a bit much. Back when they built our little townhome community this place was an up-and-coming suburb. The city would eventually sprawl out and then it wouldn't be so far away from everything.

But that's not how it turned out. The urban sprawl ended up going west instead of east so our town is still the same as it was when we were kids.

Eric and I came back here to set up our shop after school. Actually, I came first-he was in business school and took two more years to finish. So I rented an old garage with an apartment upstairs and that's where I've lived ever since.

It was a total dump back then but it's really nice now. We expanded the building several years ago and added three more bays. So we now have five full-time mechanics, including Eric and me, an office manager named Karen, and a couple of kids from the mechanic school who work there for their internship.

It's on a side street in the middle of town. And by the middle, I mean at the bottom of the hill just next to the river. Which is pretty much where everything is in this town that's not really a town. One real cross street with a few side streets on either side of the river. And we only have two stoplights. Both of them are at the top of the hills that flank the town. Technically we have three stoplights if you count the one in front of the fire station, but that one only works if there's a fire and the engines need to get out onto the two-lane highway.

"Why are you groaning?" I ask Julia. Because she just did it again.

"There's stones on the sidewalk," she says, tiptoeing her way around the stones.

I stop us and turn my back to her. "Get on," I say. "I'll carry you like the old days."

She laughs a little. "You never carried me on your back in your life."

Truth. Eric would've killed me. He was the one who always did that.

But you're not here, are you? I silently ask him. So that's what you get for leaving us alone, jerkoff. I guess if you really wanted to keep me away from your sister you'd have stuck around.

"I know," I say. "But I can't stand your whining and groaning. Now get on."

I look over my shoulder at her. Daring her to say no. Or maybe just glaring at her, because there's a sudden rush of anger inside me. Anger that Eric isn't here to stop me. Anger that maybe I want to do more to his sister than just hold her hand and give her a piggyback ride.

Maybe I want to take her home.

And I know I can. No one's gonna stop me but her.

"Fine," she says, placing her hands on my shoulder. She jumps and I catch her, dropping her shoes in the process.

"Oh, shit," she says as I hike her up on my back. Just the feeling of her legs wrapped around me gets me hard.

And I think to myself, Trent, what the fuck is wrong with you? Her brother has been dead for four days and you're already planning to eat the forbidden fruit.

Sure, I agree that makes me a Grade-A douchebag. But I don't care.

You're not here, ha!

I just bend down next to her shoes and say, "Grab 'em," and then stand back up once she's got them in her hand. "Should we run?" I ask her.

"No." She laughs.

But I'm already running. And she's bouncing on my back, laughing, and it's a hot summer night with no wind, so the wind I make feels cool, and good, and soothing.

She starts to slip and I know this whole break in the sadness has a lifetime limit of maybe ten more seconds, but I make the most of those ten seconds by heading towards a large green lawn along the side of a big old house that is actually a real estate office, and fall into the grass with her, rolling around until Julia's on her back and I'm propped up over the top of her, looking down into her eyes.

She smiles. No teeth. Like she's waiting. Like maybe she's been waiting her whole life for this moment.

I lean down. Slow enough that she has time to make a decision. But fast enough that I don't lose my nerve. And I kiss her on the lips.

Julia and Trent's first kiss. Walking home from Eric's funeral.

I pull back immediately and she lets out a long breath of air. Fingertips touching her lips like she can't believe I just did that.

"Sorry," I say. "I just couldn't stop myself."

She nods at me, silent. The moon is out now. Shining down into her eyes. Then she says, "OK."

"Yeah?" I ask, knowing full well she wasn't permitting me. Just agree with my statement about not being able to stop. So I'm leading her on here, but I don't care.

"Sure," she says, going down the path to hell with me. Willingly.

I put my hand on her thigh and slide it up her leg before I come to my senses and stop.

She tilts her head at me, questioning.

"You should stay the night at my place. Get drunk with me. Talk about old times and shit like that."

Shit like that means... All those times I wanted to jump your bones and never could, but now I can, so I'm using this as an excuse to take you home, and put you in my bed, then fuck your brains out because I'm sad. And you're sad. And there's no one here to stop us now because he's the reason we're sad.

"OK," she says again.

And again, I respond, "Yeah?"

And she nods.

Yes.

I roll off her and get to my feet, extending my hand down to her. She takes it and I pull her up in one smooth motion. She's small compared to me. Only about five foot six, maybe. And pulling her up, she is light too. Like a feather.

We stand there on the side lawn between the real estate office house and Mrs. Cooper's driveway, under the glow of a single yellow streetlight, and look for something in each other's eyes.

I'm looking for solace and I think she is too.

So I say, "Come on. We can cut through the backyard." And then we are eight years old again. I'm leading her through Mrs. Cooper's backyard half expecting her to open her window and yell at us to stop cutting through her yard because we're making a path in her grass.

But Mrs. Cooper doesn't live here anymore. She lives up the hill now. One of Eric's w neighbors. Plus it's night. Paul and Billie Freeman, who live here now, are probably over at Eric and Julia's parents' house for the reception.

And we are not eight, anyway. We are both just a couple of sad, thirty-somethings who used to be someone else. And we'd give anything to be those kids again, but of course, that's impossible.

But maybe for one night, we can pretend.