Double Take
Chapter 4
“On the surface, I was calm: in secret, without really admitting it, I was waiting for something.”
—Stanislaw Lem, Solaris
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2018 was a red-letter day. Hmm. I guessed I shouldn’t use that term. I doubted if anyone I knew had ever seen a paper calendar with Sundays and holidays marked in red. For me, though, it was the day I got out of the hospital.
Dad pulled up to the front of the hospital in a van I didn’t recognize. Of course, I wasn’t going to recognize any of the cars my parents owned. They were driving cars from this century. We had a 1947 Studebaker Champion in V1’s timeframe.
This was a fairly late-model van on a Chevy truck frame. Dad used it for hauling his tools around. He always had a lot of tools with him. He’d cleared one side of the front half of the van and attached a ramp that he could let down from behind the door. I was a little nervous about him pulling me up the ramp backwards and narrowly missed clipping my extended right leg on the door, but once I was inside, I felt fairly secure. I figured I’d only have a few rides in this thing. I didn’t think I wanted to try going to school or to church with this much plaster on me. I sure wasn’t going to any school dances.
Dad had been busy at home, too. There was a wooden ramp, just about the same width as my chair, that led from the driveway to the front porch. We lived in a ranch-style house, so at least I didn’t have to worry about stairs once I was inside.
That strange feeling of things being familiar but different hit me once I was inside. I’d look at a chair and almost be able to remember seeing my father sitting there sixty years ago, but not being quite the same color or shape. I could see my mother in the kitchen, but the appliances were different and a computer sat on one end of the counter with a movie playing on it. The whole place was just… a little off. Strange.
Peyton ran right over to me and did her best to give me a hug and kiss my cheek without getting hung up on my casts. Cute kid. I needed to make sure I spent some time with her while I was recovering. I thought I could hold cards in my hand now and maybe we could play a game or two. I hardly knew my little sister in V1. I was off to college before she hit high school. I guess I didn’t pay that much attention to her.
Mom was putting dinner on the table and called us to sit down. Well, I was already sitting. We almost never used the dining room table in my memory, taking all our meals in the kitchen. One look told me there was no way I was going to be maneuvering my wheel chair into the kitchen. It was just too crowded. Dad helped me position the chair at the end of the table so that my leg stuck out the side. It didn’t make too much difference since I couldn’t feed myself.
“Let me sit over there so I can feed you,” Mom said.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Em said. “I’ve got it. There’s lots of things J can’t do without hands. We just need to pitch in.” I almost choked on the bite of mashed potatoes she shoved in my mouth just then. Of course, my parents were oblivious to the underlying meaning.
“That’s very mature of you, Emily. I’m so glad you’re willing to help. The home nurse will be here during the day Monday but weekends are all up to the family. I’m sure we can share the burden so no one is inconvenienced too much.” That was nice of Mom, in a backhanded way. She’d just made it very clear that I was inconveniencing the entire family. Mom had always had a way of taking responsibility for things and making sure that you felt guilty about it.
“I’ll help,” Pey said cheerfully. “I might be too little to do some of the grownup things, but I can help get things for J. Like if he needs a drink. I think I could feed him, too.”
“Thank you, Pey. You’re the best little sister a guy could have. We’ll do some fun things together.”
“You need to keep up with your school,” Dad said. I nodded. It was about the most Dad ever said and that was all the response he expected. It was funny that he hardly said a word the whole time he was picking me up from the hospital and driving me home. It was just the way Dad was. It might have been the most familiar thing about coming home.
Home. After dinner, Dad took charge of seeing that I could maneuver my chair down the hall to my room. Our house was as modest as I remembered, though more modern. There were three bedrooms. The difference with this one was that there was a private bath for the master bedroom. The girls and I all shared the bath in the hall—not that I’d be going in there any time in the next few weeks.
Going down the hall wasn’t bad, but there was no way I could make a right turn with my right leg sticking straight out. Dad was analytical.
“Try going past the door and backing in,” he said. After I got the hang of backing and turning at the same time, it actually worked. It didn’t take long to realize that Dad was the only one who could get me in and out of the chair. With the added weight of all the plaster, there was no way that either Mom or Em could lift me. Dad took the training that everyone else in the family had, but even with that it took us a couple of tries before we got it right. After sitting up in the chair for the past few hours and then all the jockeying around to get to my room and into bed, I was exhausted.
“Everyone out. Let me get Jake ready for bed,” Mom directed. “You don’t have to go to sleep now, but let’s get you out of your traveling clothes and ready for bed.” It was like seven o’clock in the evening and obvious that everyone was getting tired of carting me around. They wanted me in bed so they could have their evening.
Having Mom get me ready for bed could have had unfortunate repercussions if my cock had betrayed me and gotten hard. I was in no way hot for my Mom, but she had to handle me in order for me to shit and piss and get cleaned up. Afterward, I got a fresh diaper and a giant-size T-shirt pulled over my head, arms and all. I needed to figure out something to protect my stomach from the plaster.
“Could I get a towel across my stomach so the plaster isn’t rubbing?” I asked. “Please.”
“Oh, I never thought about that. Is that what they did in the hospital?”
“They had some stretchy sleeve kind of thing they pulled over the casts. I should have asked them for some,” I said.
“I wonder if it would work to cut the toes out of a pair of tube socks. We’ll experiment tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I distracted myself while Mom was taking care of my toiletry by examining my room. I had a feeling it had been cleaned up for my arrival. I couldn’t imagine that I kept things so tidy. The room was typical off-white, but the wall at the head of my bed was garishly painted in the style of graffiti I’d seen on walls in the city. There were intense colors with dark outlines and an abundance of skulls. One had a cartoon balloon over it that said “Die Fucker!” A sword was stuck through another skull. If my kid had painted up his room like this, I’d have laced his hide.
I painted it. V2. Looking at it from that perspective, I had to admit I had some talent. A guitar leaned against the wall on the other side of my bed. A desk I recognized as being from IKEA had my computer on it. Dark. My dresser had a bunch of crap on it that looked like hell. I couldn’t even identify what the cards, dice, figures, and oddball junk were. I wondered if any of it was valuable. My closet door was closed so I had no idea if I owned any decent clothes. I’d worn a one-legged pair of sweatpants and a heavy pair of socks home with a hoody sweatshirt pulled around me and zipped up, trapping my arms inside. I’d find out later.
I sat propped up in my bed with my Kindle and read while the rest of the family went about their business. For Em, that included going out on a date. I really needed to talk to her.
I dozed. Can’t say I fully slept that night. I got Dad to remove the pillows from behind me and let me lie down about nine o’clock. I was bored of reading with a perpetual hard-on. I had plenty of books on my Kindle that weren’t porn, but I wasn’t interested in reading the history of World War II and the rise of the Third Reich. That was ancient history for V3 and the schools hardly touched on anything before the first Gulf War. That was pretty much the beginning of the modern age according to my history text book. What a bunch of crap.
I felt her presence at my door before I saw her.
“You awake?” she whispered.
“Yeah. Have a nice date?”
“Oh, you know. The usual. Get ice cream and a movie and pay for it with a hand job. Boys are jerks.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Shit. I was planning to be a jerk. She apparently sensed my discomfort.
“Spill it. What’s on your mind? A nightmare?”
“Not since last night. I just… It’s nothing.”
“Right. You were going to ask for a hand job and I called my date a jerk for wanting one. Geez, didn’t we just do that?”
“Em, how many times did you jill off this week?” I whined.
“That’s none… Oh. And I was about to go to my room and do it again. And you haven’t had one for a week, have you?”
“I can do without.”
“Right. I’m not going to torture you. Just sit tight for a few minutes. I need the bathroom.”
I’d gotten hard just talking to her. Or I should say harder. I hadn’t really gone down all the way since I peed before bed. Mom had been very efficient about wiping me off but once she was gone and I started thinking again, the boner kept rising and falling. Thinking that Em might come and jack me off got me up all the way.
When she came back to my room I got even harder. She’d changed for bed and was wearing a sports jersey that barely covered her butt. The neck hole was so big it slid down over one bare shoulder. She’d taken off her makeup and her fresh-scrubbed face looked sweet and innocent, even with the purple streak through her below-the-collar medium brown hair. She carried a washcloth and a bottle of lotion with her.
“You’re not a jerk for wanting to masturbate and not being able to,” she said. “Don’t get the idea that this will be an every night thing. Even I don’t do it that often. But I’m not going to let you suffer.” She pulled down the sheet and unfastened my diaper. I sprang up like a flagpole. “Geez! You know, you’ve got a nice cock. Do you need to pee first?”
“Huh-uh,” I moaned as she took hold of me. She squirted a little lotion in her hand and slicked my pole. I really wanted this to last, but I knew I was going to pop before I was really ready.
“Since I was going to do it to myself anyway, I figured I’d just get it out of the way at the same time,” she whispered. She sat on the edge of my bed with one leg pulled up. I wished the light was brighter so I could see what she had on display. She slowly stroked my cock with her right hand as her left started moving over her pussy. “I never imagined bonding with my brother over masturbation,” she giggled. “Ah.”
Having her active in her own sex made her movements on my pole less predictable and slowed me down some. But not enough. She wasn’t near when my cock started to pulse. She didn’t stop stroking. I didn’t get soft.
“Can you stand to go again?” she husked. “Diddling myself while I’m holding a hard cock is nice.” She was panting and I was watching her frig herself. God! To be fourteen again and have this immediate recovery time. I was! The last time I’d had two comes in a row was thirty years ago. I was building fast again and my previous come on Em’s fingers made her hand glide even smoother.
“I can feel it coming, Em,” I breathed. “Oh, yes!”
“I’m there!” she squeaked. Somehow the fact that she stopped stroking when she started coming didn’t diminish my shot. It arced up and landed on the towel Mom had given me to keep the casts from scratching me up.
“Thank you!” I panted. “Oh, God! Thank you! You’re the best.” My ribs had pretty much healed since they’d rested for five weeks already but the deep breaths I was gasping still gave me little twinges. I’d have to do some deep breathing exercises. “And thank you for letting me watch you come. You’re really beautiful, Em.”
“Oh, shit, J. I didn’t even think about you being able to see me. Is that why you stayed hard?”
“It didn’t hurt. It was… really nice.”
“I need to get you cleaned up.” She efficiently went about the process of wiping me down and cleaning up the come from all over. She refastened my diaper and covered me with the sheet. “Think you can sleep now?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“I think I’m going to sleep like a rock. See you in the morning, J.”
“’Night, Em.”
Sleep came quickly and was filled with hazy visions of Em’s pussy.
We all managed to get through the weekend. Mom, Dad, and Em all took turns helping me with my toilet and cleaning me up afterward. I managed not to get fully erect with either Mom or Dad, but Em got to see me in all my glory. Pey was too little to do any of that work. Who’d subject an eight-year-old girl to cleaning her big brother’s ass? But it turned out that she did one thing that helped as much as everything else.
“You need a bell,” she said firmly. I’d been struggling to sit up in bed Sunday morning. She managed to get a pillow behind me so I was at least partway up. I guess she was the only one who was awake so far.
“What?”
“Nobody knows when you need something if they aren’t in the same room. I’ll be right back.” She took off to the room she shared with Em. I had to say that Em was an angel with our little sister. How many almost-eighteen-year-olds do you know who’d peacefully share a room with their ten years younger sister. I needed to figure out a way to let Em know how great she was. The Em I remembered from V1 was always bitter and hated having younger siblings. She’d rather sleep on the sofa in the living room than sleep in the same room as Pey. And if we dared call her Em instead of by her full name, Emily, we could expect she wouldn’t speak to us for days. Apparently in this life, I was the one who was nasty and stand-offish to my siblings, even lording over them with my private room. What an asshole. I was going to change that, pronto.
Em came back with Pey. She immediately helped me sit the rest of the way up and get my pillows arranged so I didn’t slump back down. Having no working arms really sucks. I was working my abs like a demon to try and help them.
“I see what you mean,” Em said. “He needs some way to call us. At least in the hospital, they taped the call button to his cast so he could get help from a nurse.”
“You guys aren’t my nurse,” I said a little more hotly than I intended. “I mean, thank you, but I don’t want to inconvenience anybody.” I used Mom’s subtle dig at me.
“Right. Like it’s easier to change your diaper than to get you on the bedpan. We’re not talking about catering to your every whim, so get that idea right out of your mind.” She looked at me meaningfully and I got the message that she wasn’t going to be around to stroke me off on demand. “But you need to be able to alert someone if you need things. We’ll make it easy on you and write a list of acceptable summons on your cast. Before you ring the bell you look at the cast and make sure what you want is on the list.”
“I don’t have a bell.”
“Well, that’s what we’re talking about. For some reason, Pey decided I need to get you a bell—or something.”
“I’d have told Mom, but she isn’t awake yet.”
“Neither was I, squirt.”
“Yeah, but… Em?”
“Don’t worry. I hear you. If we don’t stick together, we’ll all fall apart.” The two girls laughed. This life was so different than what I remembered. What had happened in my family that changed my sister so much? And me? It sounded so familiar but I couldn’t remember my sisters ever having a saying like that. “So, it will need to be loud enough to be heard but not so obnoxious that it sounds like he’s calling his servants.”
“And he needs to be able to ring it over and over to wake people up. You know… in case,” Pey agreed.
“Well, it’s only eight o’clock on Sunday morning. We can’t go shopping yet. What shall we have for breakfast?”
“Um… Not cereal, please,” I said.
“Does it do things to your poop?” Pey asked. Leave it to an eight-year-old.
“It’s not that. It’s just hard to eat. I end up with milk all down my chin and my chest.”
“Okay. He wants something totally… forkable,” Em said with an evil glint. “But not something that will make him constipated. That’s icky.”
“Pancakes!” Pey said.
“Good call. Why don’t you keep J company while I go whip some up? We can feed him from both sides and see if he gets syrup down his chin and chest.” The girls laughed. Em left to start some breakfast. Apparently in this life, our parents slept late on Sunday. I remembered always being up early and Sunday breakfast being a special time before church.
“Want to play ‘Go Fish’?” I asked my little sister.
“Yeah. I bet you can hold the cards easier with those card holder things the old people use.”
“We have those?”
“Yeah, you know. Mom and Dad don’t like people bending the cards so they insist that when people come over for card games that they use the holders.”
Well, that was a new point of information, too. I wondered how much I could count on my sisters to fill me in on things without giving away that I had no idea what I was doing in this life.
“I guess I haven’t been paying attention.”
“You quit playing cards with everybody the last time Mom yelled at you,” Pey said. “Em and I shaped up fast after that. We have one deck that we only use when you’re playing with me. They’re kind of bent up.”
“Why don’t you get things and see if I can hold cards with that gadget,” I said. Pey ran out of the room. I knew exactly what she was talking about. In the nursing home, when we played on Wednesday nights, we all used card holders. It wasn’t to keep the cards nice, though it did that. Most of us ‘old folks’ had arthritis so bad that we couldn’t grip a handful of cards. With the card holders, all the cards were in a rubber grip that even the weakest of us could keep.
Wednesday night cards. The last time I played pinochle with Big and the guys, Renie died. I never went back to the games. I hope she went peacefully. I still miss her. And I could sure use a good cigar right now.
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